Author's note: And it's… outside time! :D
Despite Tony falling asleep yesterday night with the sound of rain smattering against window panels echoing in his ears, the morning after turned out to be as sunny and beautiful as one could possibly wish for. Sure there were still puddles of water on the streets, but otherwise it was as if the previous downpour never happened.
A perfect day for a walk in the park if he'd ever seen one.
They had headed out once breakfast was over and done with, strolling around among the trees and meticulously pruned lawns for the better part of the morning and even a fair part of the afternoon. Loki had seemed unusually at ease and content as he walked along the gravel-covered paths, apparently caught up in his own thoughts, as if he'd forgotten all about his current situation and the punishment he was serving, instead choosing to focus his mind on other and hopefully better things. That would definitely count as progress, if the god had indeed found it in him to disentangle himself from his previous gloominess and cultivate a somewhat more positive mindset.
All in all, Tony supposes he can't complain. The day had turned out nicely, there had been no trouble, and his charge seemed contented and even border-line happy.
A part of him had been whispering that he'd better remain vigilant, because it was almost too good. But then again, he liked 'too good', so he pushed the suspicions away, because Loki hadn't actually done anything to merit them. No, it was just Tony's old misgivings and inability to trust people that were rearing their ugly heads again. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time.
They even stopped for ice cream somewhere along the way as they were going back home. He's still not quite sure why. Perhaps it was the stark incongruity inherent in the mental image of one god of chaos and wanton destruction licking away at a vanilla ice cream cone that made it impossible to simply walk by the vendor and his icy goodness without indulging his brain's weird whims.
Loki obviously enjoyed it, too, though the look on his face was rather perplexed. Which was totally understandable, as the guy had probably never eaten frozen, ice cold food like this before, given that Asgard was most likely suffering from a pitiful lack of freezers, to say nothing of ice cream machines.
The weather turned bad again soon after, however, rain starting to fall in heavy droplets from dark grey skies. Only about fifteen seconds after the first drop landed on Tony's nose, the sky opened up in a veritable waterfall, and suddenly people were running all over the place for cover, the lucky ones equipped with newspapers to shield their heads from the worst onslaught.
Usually, this would be the time when Tony would have signalled for a cab for a ride home, but the area they were in was a pedestrian zone only, and there was a stairway entrance conveniently placed only a few yards to the right with the word 'subway' plastered across the railing, so he pulled the god along down the steps and into the underground.
Yeah, the joys of public transportation is something he usually avoids, but this time it did seem like the best option. It was only a few stops from home, after all, and preferable to standing around somewhere for who knows how long waiting for the rain to cease.
So now the two of them are standing in a carriage choke full with people pressing up against them from all directions. And Tony can swear that someone grabbed his ass just moments ago, but he can't turn his head and look the perpetrator in the eye unless he wants his face to make contact with the elbow of the grossly overweight man standing to his right, his arm holding one of the straps for balance. Totally unnecessary, as the carriage is so packed that even if the train should make a sudden stop, the throng of people would render a fall-on-the-face impossible. Tony makes a grimace, having no choice but to stand remain standing with the reek of a stranger's unwashed armpit in his face.
Despite the unpleasantness emanating from that direction, it's still easier to focus on that than on the person standing to his other side – Loki, all pushed into Tony from the pressure of people around them. He's never been so close to the god for such an extended period of time before, and it's oddly unnerving. Standing within licking distance to strangers without getting embarrassed or uncomfortable is something you learn quickly when living in New York, but when that someone isn't a stranger but Loki, it gets harder to ignore.
He dares a look in the god's direction. Loki is staring straight ahead, a blank expression on his face, but there is a tension in his posture belying his otherwise neutral features. Mot likely, he's trying to will all the jostling people around him away who are effectively invading his private space. Just like ice cream machines, crowded subway carriages are probably unheard of in Asgard.
The train suddenly takes a curve with a bit more speed than optimal, rustling the crowd inside. Loki's body presses harder against his, and Tony can feel the heat of it against his skin as he tries to don an undaunted deadpan expression, looking anywhere but at Loki.
At least he isn't sporting an erection this time, though if the circumstances were a bit different, as in the carriage being exchanged for the privacy of his tower and the other people around him not existing, he probably would have.
It's a relief when the train makes a halt at the next stop. The more impatient passengers are jostling to get off, and even though it's not his stop yet Tony steps out of the doors to let the people behind him exit more easily, glad for a chance to put some distance between himself and Loki. As the last persons are milling out, and Tony is about to step back inside, there is suddenly a hand brushing very briefly against his body, at chest level, far too intimately for it to be a mere accident.
Quickly, he gropes at his pocket, wanting to make sure his wallet is still there. The pocket is as empty as a rusty bucket turned upside down.
Fuck.
He whirls around, only to see the outlines of a quickly retreating figure dart into the throng of people milling towards to the exit.
You little bastard.
With adrenaline shooting through his body and the sound of blood pumping in his ears, he dashes after the figure on pure reflex without thinking, about to push himself into the mass of commuters when the sound of doors closing cuts through his hormone-induced sprint of madness, bringing him back to reality.
Double fuck.
He turns just in time to see the carriage with Loki still inside roll off the platform, leaving Tony there like some stranded whale, too stupid to navigate properly and about to be brutally eliminated by natural selection.
Suddenly, the stolen wallet seems like the least of his problems.
A surge of panic is threatening to well up inside of him, pushing his usual rational mind aside, but he forces it back, refusing to be overcome with raw emotion. It's not going to do him any good now, only sensible thinking will.
Okay, so he just lost a war criminal in New York City, like a freaking penny that fell out of a hole in his pocket. No reason to panic, though, the tracking device is still firmly attached to Loki's wrist and his location fed directly into Tony's cell phone, so at least he'll know the god's whereabouts at any given time.
Yes, rational, sensible thinking. He leans against a graffiti-covered pillar for support, cold sweat running down his forehead as he draws a hand through his hair, mulling over what the chances are that it's gone grey from this scarce and if it might be worth investing the spare change in his pockets in some hair dye. An elderly couple passing by give him an affronted look as they walk past, the man muttering something about drug addicts and withdrawal symptoms.
Alright then. He straightens himself up, exhaling deeply as he struggles to get a grip on himself. He did tell Loki when they stepped on the train that it would take them almost right to the doorstep of Stark Tower, but he never said which stop to get off at. So most likely, Loki will ride with the train until it reaches the end station, not knowing where else to get off but perhaps hoping that there will be something familiar along the way to let him infer the correct stop. That means a ride of about fifteen minutes. He looks at the time table hovering above his head where the number display just changes from an eleven to a ten. Okay, so ten minutes until the next one. Hopefully Loki will be smart enough to wait for Tony to come get him. Surely he will not be stupid enough to wander off on his own and do god knows what.
The wait feels more like an hour than merely ten minutes, anxious time that he spends transferring orders to Jarvis to block his credit cards and send requests for new ones, while staring at his cell phone and the little speck that represents Loki, wishing that he had had enough sense to equip the bracelet with a communication device while he was at it. Yeah, hindsight is twenty-twenty, alright. And a bitch, too.
When the next train finally rolls onto the platform, Tony squeezes himself through the doors before they're even fully open, his grave breach of commuter etiquette earning him angry stares and muttered comments from some of the exiting passengers. He couldn't care less, though.
For the duration of the train ride, his eyes are glued to his cell phone display, apprehension curling in his stomach like a snake when the application informs him that Loki has just stepped out at the end station.
Stay there, he silently wills the dot, don't move from the spot until I come and get you.
The black speck on the screen mills about for a little while, but then ceases to move altogether, remaining on the same coordinates. Okay, good, from the looks of it Loki probably isn't going anywhere until Tony gets there.
And then, the speck on his screen suddenly flickers, and a second later it is gone, leaving only an empty map with coordinates and street names printed across it.
What the hell?
Tony stares at the screen as if his intense gaze will bring the Loki speck back, but the black dot remains stubbornly absent.
His mind is swirling like a maelstrom as he stares at the empty spot that only moments ago was covered with dark pixels. Did Loki find a way to remove the tracking device? Granted, he would need some kind of tool to take that thing apart, but perhaps he had managed to pry the bracelet open somehow, if he'd gotten his hands on something hard and flat to stick into that thin groove where the ends connect…
Suddenly, Tony has a very sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. And then, raw anger is stirring inside of him, lifting its ugly face and baring its sharp fangs.
Of course Loki would take advantage of any opportunity to escape. And Tony is a blithering idiot for trusting the god of lies and mischief, for aiding his getaway like this, for playing right into his hands. How could he have fallen so easily for it?
There is not only anger burning through him, though, but something else, something even more potent – a feeling of betrayal. He put his trust in Loki, and the god repaid him by using his gullibility against him, probably laughing inside as he stringed Tony along and then making his escape as soon as an appropriate moment presented itself.
He clenches his hands into fists. Oh, he'll find the bastard one way or the other; he'll get him back, and once he does, Loki is going to be one very sorry-ass god indeed.
Ops.
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