2) The Drama Student

The world really didn't appreciate Loki enough.

His classmates didn't. The instructor would ask for someone to be the example and Loki, who has memorized every important Shakespeare soloist speech in history, would volunteer, delivering every word perfectly. Loki is always perfect. Loki is always the example.

And how his classmates detest him. How they roll their eyes and grit their teeth and mutter under their breath.

(Of course whatever they mutter couldn't be criticism, because Loki is flawless.)

He supposes jealously is a twisted version of appreciation. He likes the way they all envy him, with his big expressive eyes and skin that illuminates under stage light.

What they don't realize is all his talent takes work. He doesn't go to parties or drink jelly shots or twerk to loud, thumping music. He doesn't skip class to go to concerts or shopping or the premiere of some rebooted Rocky Horror Picture Show nonsense (although he has the entire script memorized; Freddy could be a potential role and very suited to him).

He bust his ass. He made honour roll all throughout high school and had a part-time job, on top of taking up special classes and small side jobs for his acting. He worked hard to get into the school he's at, unlike all these jealous, stupid rich kids who decided to take up acting because 'oh I might get to meet Robert De Niro at my graduation'.

He wasn't here because he took some of daddy's money and decided he likes the idea of wearing a glamorous Gucci suit on a red carpet filled with celebrities. He is here because he wants to be the only one on the red carpet in a Gucci suit, and he will kick and shove anyone who dares to want to join him.

Money helps, in this situation. Hense, Starbucks. And Olive Garden. And the campus bookstore. Telling Odin to fuck off might've been a bit hasty. But he's still adamant that his decision was a good one. Being independent is great. He is following his dream. He is making it.

He has $4.05 in his wallet.

Then someone is standing in front of his register at some place he works (it must be Starbucks, he's handing out coffees, he hasn't slept in two days) and is asking if he wants to be his boyfriend. He's not unfamiliar with the request. But no, as he processes the words over his sloshy frontal lobe, the man said pretend. Act.

Loki has always been impulsive. You have to be, in his career. You have to be ready to go and do whatever it takes to get to the top.

The man is older than him, although not by too much, and his hair is a scruffy mop of golden brown. His eyes are hiding behind dark aviators and he's wearing quite a bit of leather. Stubble sprinkles his jaw, looking like he's trying to grow it out rather than forgotten to shave. He looks very Hollywood. Or very creepy. Loki will take the chance.

When the man gives him his name he doesn't recognize it. Anthony. Or Tony, he didn't really make up his mind. His last name better be more interesting, but that can come later. He hasn't gotten a side job in months. He needed to up his street cred. Then he could freelance it and drop out of school and leave those pompous idiots and he'll become an inspirational rags to riches story.

He wasn't expecting a thousand dollars. The man has obviously not done this before. Usually Loki would have to negotiate for days to get a couple hundred. One thousand upfront? Was the man an idiot?

So yes, Loki is feeling better about his decision every passing minute. So he gives him his number and sends him on his way with his honey malt chai latte.

He's a fucking drama student.

Tony had been quick to do a google search on his new boyfriend/con-artist/actor/hooker(?) while waiting for him to arrive at his apartment, and what he finds is surprising to say the least. His name is Loki Odinson, as in Odinson Corporation, real estate empire. He'd heard of the Odinson's vaguely but never to much extent. The Starks are technology and weapons. They work on arming folk, not housing them.

Apparently Loki had been dropped from the family name a year ago. Not officially, but you'd think otherwise by the way his photo has been removed from family listings and how articles loved to express how adopted he was. He was cut off from the money, the inheritance, the company and was studying acting. And was fucking good at it, apparently.

Of all the people to freak out in a Starbucks.

Loki arrives not ten minutes after Tony sends the text. Tony opens the door and Loki walks in wearing a long trench coat over yet another part-time job. He smells of garlic. Olive Garden.

As he chucks a messenger bag onto an armchair and shrugs off the coat Tony gets a good look at him for the first time. He's slim, very much so, and his skin is just as pale and flawless as his face everywhere else on his body. The kid looks like he's never stepped outside. His hair goes to the nape of his neck in soft flowing locks, black as space. He has a bit of a fringe that was pushed back when he first saw him, but now it falls limp over his forehead. And he has a nice ass, but now was not the time to appreciate it.

His jeans are dark and starting to get ratty around the edges, reminding him of how very much cut off Loki is from Odin's money. He swallows as he looks around his Manhattan apartment filled with lavish furniture, city views and wide screen TVs. He's dressed in soft cotton after showering in his high-pressure, floor heated bathroom.

"Um, make yourself at home, I guess."

Loki drops his coat on the sofa and looks around, hand on hip.

"So, my job is to act as your romantic interest for a weekend?"

Ah yes, the fucked up situation Tony's mouth got him into.

"Uh, yeah."

"You're Tony Stark."

He's not the only one who's been Googling.

"Yes."

"Of Stark Industries."

"Yes."

"I want five thousand."

"What? Ok."

Loki looks somewhat disturbed.

"You're just going to give me five thousand dollars?" he asks carefully. "What situation are you in, exactly?"

Tony sighs and sits down on the sofa. "I...have pretended to have a boyfriend, or really a partner— someone—for a year. To escape my family. And now my family is coming down to see them and my mom will cry and I can't stand my father looking at me with that smirk like the asshole he is."

Loki didn't answer for a while.

"You are willing to pay a random stranger five thousand dollars to piss off your father?"

When Tony looks at him he doesn't see fear, or contempt or disgust or anything he was expecting to see. He sees humour; he's entire face has lit up and the corners of his mouth are slightly twitching upwards. His eyes have a new intensity in them. Tony would even say he looked somewhat aroused.

Daddy issues.

Tony nods, slowly. Loki grins.

"Well then, darling, when do we begin?"

Tony's mouth drops open. This was the best idea.

He lets Loki shower to get the smell of burnt bread out of his hair. When he emerges he's in a spare change of clothes he must've brought with him, a V-necked green shirt and baggy woollen pants. It's almost 10PM when they both are in the living room again and Tony's handing Loki a sheet.

"What's this?" Loki asks, looking over it.

"General information about me. If we've been dating for a year then you'll have to at least know some of this stuff." If this was actually happening, it was happening right. No holes could be found in his story.

Loki takes the paper in his mouth as he puts his hair up in a ponytail. When he's done he looks at it for a couple moments. "You're twenty five?"

"Yeah."

"But you're an honorary professor at MIT."

"Yeah. I created the world's first AI and probably debunked a couple string theories, I don't know." Loki raises an eyebrow. Tony clears his throat. "We really just have to go over the details of our fake relationship. It's only one dinner."

"I can cry."

Tony looks up. Loki is staring at him with that intensity again.

"…what?"

"I can cry on command. I just want you to know, if it was needed."

"Um, yeah, we kinda want to portray a happy relationship? So I don't think crying is needed."

Loki shrugs. "Alright, I just personally think tearing up can be very romantic, but whatever you want."

Tony takes a moment. "Ok." Fucking actors.

"Aw, you had a butler growing up." Loki's gone back to reading Tony's life. Tony nods.

"Jarvis."

"Is he going to be at the dinner?"

"He's dead."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Should I cry if he's mentioned?"

"No crying, jesus." He swears to god Loki pouts and doesn't say anything more. "Ok," he looks at the spread sheets on the coffee table. "Over the year we've been on five fake dates."

"Only five?"

"Hey, one was an expensive weekend getaway thank you very much."

"Doing what?"

"I don't know, camping?"

"I hate camping."

"Then a weekend in Atlantic City."

"I hate New Jersey."

"Well fuck, I don't know, what do you like?"

"Do you really expect to sell the idea that we've been together for a year like this?"

Tony huffs. "Ok, fine. Tell me about yourself."

Loki's face suddenly lights up again. "Me or fake-me?"

"I don't care. Whatever."

He realizes his mistake when Loki grins, looking off into the empty space of the room with a horrible look of inspiration. Idiot. He has just told the next William Shatner that he can be anything he wants. "Actually," he says quickly, "let's just stick with you, we don't have time."

The expression drops off Loki's face and Tony lets out a breath. Loki crosses his arms and looks at the sheet again. "Fine."

"Alright, cool. So what do you like?"

Loki shrugs. "Movies. Shakespeare. Books. Food."

"Great. I'm loving the 'indistinguishable from every other person on earth' vibe." Loki huffs and turns his head away. The guy is so damn dramatic he really can't tell if this is him or if he's trying to audition for something. Tony sighs and sits back. "Ok, where would've you liked to go on our weekend getaway?"

Loki thinks for a bit, chewing his lip. "Somewhere near the beach."

"Do you like the beach?"

"Yeah." Loki smiles. Tony nods encouragingly.

"Sure. Beach. I could find a beach."

"What about the other dates?"

Tony shrugs. "Olive Garden?"

"I work at Olive Garden," Loki says through gritted teeth. Tony winces.

"Yeahhhh…no you don't." Loki looks almost challenged.

"I don't?"

"No. Or Starbucks. What about an internship?"

"In LA?"

"Sure."

He might've well actually given him the internship. Loki grins and slicks a few strands of his fringe back as if to say 'damn right'.

"Alright," he says, stepping around the coffee table until he's practically looming over Tony. "Once we're at the dinner we have to start acting like a couple. Romantic interests' behaviour towards each other can be very different depending on how much time they've been dating. We've been together for a year so avoid stupid staring for long periods of time or excessive touching. Pet names should be sensible but if you do call me something stupid then it must have a cute backstory to it. You have to know how I like my drinks and if I like gravy and we should at least have three inside jokes."

Tony stares at the acting major.

"Also, people who are in love stare when the other isn't looking and they stare at the eyes. People who are in lust stare at lips." Finishing with a breath, he sits down next to Tony. "So we should probably practise holding hands."

Tony can't get a word out before Loki reaches out and grabs his hand, entwining their fingers. His hand is cool and he's suddenly very self-conscious about his clammy one. He immediately stands, drawing away. "Ah yeah, not doing this sober."

Loki glares. "If you're not going to take this seriously-"

"I am taking this seriously! This is five thousand dollars of my hard earned inherited money we're talking about here. I am paying attention. How do you like your drinks, dear?"

"Call me that and you can forget the whole thing, five grand or not, honey."

"Ok," Tony smirks, ducking down to a glass cabinet filled with bottles. "How about babe? It's normal, simple, but still reeks 'young love'." He pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniel's and two glasses.

"Acceptable. And I prefer spirits."

Tony looks at Loki with surprise and newfound respect as he ducks down again. Eventually he sits back down on the couch with a small bottle of lollied vodka and a larger bottle of gin. He stares at the collection, humming, before getting up and grabbing a couple cans of lemonade as well. He wants them tipsy, not dead.

"Ok, babe," he says, mixing Loki a drink. He shakes his head as he passes it to him. "Ugh, no, this is so weird. I've known you for an hour."

"Well, I don't exactly have the excuse of 'buy me a drink first' anymore," Loki says, taking a sip. Tony chuckles and pours himself a Jack Daniel's and downs it.

"Yeah. Hey…why the fuck are you doing this? I Googled you. I know who you are. But I don't think any sane person would agree to this."

Loki hums around the lip of the glass, finishing off the drink. He immediately starts mixing a new one, a different mixture to Tony's and he mentally takes notes. "I'm an acting student. I take every opportunity I can."

"I'm not sure I can write you a reference for this one."

Loki smiles. "Mmm. Renowned acting academies cost money unfortunately, so you are helping me."

Tony watches him drink, staring at his lips. Then he remembers to stare at his eyes and quickly adjusts. "Why are you in acting?"

Nothing in Loki's face changes significantly. He gives a nonchalant shrug. "I've always been interested in it. I've just always known I wanted to be an actor." He finishes another drink and refills. Tony starts to worry at how fast he's going, but then again if anything is going to break the ice and make things less awkward for both of them, it's alcohol. "What about you, Tony Stark?" he asks, looking at him from the corner of his eye. "What are your life aspirations?"

Tony lets out a long breath and joins Loki in refilling his glass. "Well, mostly, it's lying around and spending my parent's money, maybe some inventing here and there…then I die, I guess."

Tony takes a moment to mull over the question. His young brain shooting alcohol through his veins won't make him stop mulling anytime soon. As far as he knows, his life is already decided for him. He'll inherit the company when his father deems him old enough and from then on it's going to be paparazzi, showgirls, extravagant parties, contract signings, board meetings and drinking himself to an early grave. Just like his father. Sure, he'll invent ground-breaking technology in the meantime if he wants. Maybe he'll find a nice wife to settle down with and have a kid to fuck up. Just like his father.

Loki giggles, and Tony is shocked at the sound. He wasn't expecting something that bubbly to come out of Loki's mouth. When he looks up he sees that Loki's moved onto his fourth drink. "How horrible for you. To have a billion dollars to spend." He sighs dramatically. "So hard."

Tony scowls. "Fuck you, poor person."

"Not for long," Loki remarks, waggling his finger. "You promised upfront."

"Ugh," Tony rubs a few creases in his forehead, "can we not handle money with drinks in our hands? Brings back bad memories. Besides, I thought we were practising something." He looks at the man next to him. "Babe."

"Much better. Less forced." Loki entwines their fingers again. Tony still winces at how sweaty he is. His whole apartment is temperature controlled; this is ridiculous. Loki's hands being the softest hands in all the world isn't helping either.

"Your hand's so much nicer than mine though. I feel so self-conscious." Loki looks surprised and glances down, looking at the milky white against tan.

"Your hand is fine. I like the…colour."

Tony downs another drink. "Aw…you're just saying that."

Loki snorts and begins using his free arm to mix another drink. After trying and failing Tony pitches in to help, manoeuvring his spare limb to grab at bottles and cans. They fumble and spill gin everywhere with a collection of snorts and giggles, but eventually Loki has a new drink. "Thank you," he smiles, bringing it to his lips.

For an unnoticed amount of time they drink and discuss, getting more and more off topic. They agree on certain details of their relationship: they met at a Broadway show and after five different arguments about which one it should be they settled on The Lion King (Tony cringes just thinking about explaining that one to his parents), for their first date they went to the movies and for their second they went to Olive Garden (as much as Loki detests it he likes the lasagne), and for their weekend getaway Loki settled for a beachside hotel in New Jersey. When asked Tony decides Loki can keep his last name—unless his Dad was feeling more 'asshole' than usual he wouldn't use Loki's cast-out status to embarrass him, and besides, Tony's sure Howard doesn't know enough about the Odinson's to care.

Soon an alarming amount of vodka and Jack Daniel's is left. Loki stopped mixing his drinks a while ago and his behaviour shows—not that Tony's behaviour is any better. The lights in the room are getting brighter, the edges getting fuzzier, words getting slipperier and Loki's getting prettier.

He really should start ignoring the last part. But he just swears the V-neck on that shirt drops lower every minute.

They were still holding hands.

"Ok, what do you hate most about your dad?" Loki slurs, now leaning against the plush sofa-back with his legs sprawled out. Apparently the more drunk Loki gets, the more room he takes up.

"Pffffftttt, one?" His voice is getting louder and his tone is getting an annoying whine to it, but he can't help it. He's glad Loki is numb to appropriate voice volume right now. "I don't know." He takes a sip of air from his empty glass for the third time in a row. "Probably his face."

"I know right!" It turns out Loki turns into one of the Sex and the City girls when he's intoxicated. "Mine just has this…look…that just…fucking…it's like you've just come home from one night of your fucking LIFE where you've had fun, and he's just standing there glaring with his one eye, like…" he does an imitation of what looks like a slightly cross-eyed bulldog. "And it's like, fuck off, you know?"

"Totally! Mine has this smirk that he does when he knows your about to humiliate yourself, and it's like, shit, because I have his face too, like I have to deal with that every time I look in a fucking mirror." He finally puts down his glass and picks up the bottle of gin and takes a swing. He grimaces, hard. "You're so lucky your adopted, man."

Loki scoffs bitterly. "Fuck you. I hate myself."

Tony whips his head up. "No, ohmygod, you're so pretty."

Loki makes another noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "No." He slips his hand away and Tony actually whines. "I'm too skinny and too pale. My brother's the perfect one. Thor." He spits the name like bile.

"Noooooooo," Tony says quietly, getting up onto his knees. "Your skin is so soft. And your eyes are Disney Princess."

Loki looks up with said eyes, slightly glassy. "Really? I'm Disney Princess?"

"Toats, babe."

They stare at each other. That fucking intensity. Tony wants to…lick it. Yeah. His ruined brain is so right.

Tony inches forward, closer and closer, not noticing to how Loki doesn't, how he looks very confused, how he slightly leans away, and then looks slightly scared and how he then swings his arm around and—

Tony gets knocked off the couch, head spinning. He groans into the carpet. Blood fills his mouth. Ow. He can hear Loki's harsh breathing and when he strains his head to look up at him he's raised to his knees, fist still clenched.

"If you ever touch me without me wanting to I will kill you!" he screams. He steps off the couch and stands by Tony's head and ducks down to shout in his ear. "You are nothing, Stark! Don't touch me!"

Then there's glass bottles clinking together and bare feet padding away and a bedroom door slamming. Tony is left alone.

He grunts as he lifts himself up off the floor. He doesn't have the ability to process what just happened, a habit his mind seems to have around Loki. Wiping his mouth he lazily looks around and ends up grabbing a throw rug lying over one of the arm chairs and snuggling up with it on the couch. It isn't long before the pain in his jaw numbs along with his brain and he stumbles and falls into a slumber.