A/N:
Many thanks to fullmetalkahn for always reading my stuff ahead of time, and for all the lovely opinions and advice.
Walk away I urged myself.
Nothing good happens under the boardwalk on a Friday night.
I turned away from the dark rolling eternity of the ocean, and pulled up my collar against the wind.
I took a hesitant step away but was halted by a violent sound.
Damn it. I cursed my luck. years ago I probably could have walked away, feeling assured that it was none of my business. But I wasn't that man anymore. I couldn't walk away and let God knows what happen to God knows who just because I wasn't the one doing the deed.
Developing a conscience later in life has its downsides.
I pulled my gun from its holster and surveyed the platform for a good place to get down onto the sand and rocks. A large ash colored boulder, scraggly and inhospitable, caught my eye-A good place to clamber down to first.
I walked to the edge and dropped to my knees, saying a silent apology to my clean pant legs. It was one of my favorite suits, and by the end of the night it was trashed.
The wood creaked when I lowered myself onto the boulder and tried to stare into the blackness below. Nothing?
Passing a hand against one wooden support beam, sliding down to the soft sand wasn't all that difficult.
The shadows fell heavy over the moonlight beneath the boardwalk.
"Mr. Stark?" A familiar voice asked from somewhere vaguer than I was comfortable with.
"Hello?" I projected as confidently as I could and made the gun as visible as it could be in the dark.
A hand gripped my shoulder, and it sent a jolt of, not panic, but adrenaline straight through me. I reached back blindly and acquired a bony wrist. An almost silhouetted figure followed when I yanked hard and spun to face it, making sure the barrel of my gun met their stomach.
The face, frozen in an unvoiced gasp, was instantly recognizable. He didn't struggle against my grip.
"So, you're the one who was following me. I'd like to think I'm not so unapproachable that you've got to tail me to have a little quality time."
"I haven't been following you. I'm a little busy running for my life." He answered breathily with what I assumed was nerves, but he still hadn't tried to pull back, only breathing shallowly to avoid the uncomfortable reminder of my gun against his belly.
"I don't see anyone chasing you, Mr. Laufeyson."
"You aren't one for formalities are you, Mr. Stark?"
"It's wasted on me, always has been. You would have figured that out pretty quickly if you were better at tailing me."
"I wasn't tailing you. You have my word. Now, please get your weapon away from my vital organs and release me." Loki flexed the fingers on his captured wrist.
I let my gun drop to my side and put a socially acceptable distance between us. Acceptable for running into each other under a boardwalk at night, at the very least.
The Icelandic man cradled his wrist and rubbed it soothingly. He looked down at it briefly before he met my eyes. The green caught the light well, and it made his expression stand out against the dark more than it should have.
"Many thanks." Loki said and turned to look towards the lapping of the waves. "We shouldn't stay here. I doubt either of us want to be bullet ridden and face down in the muck by the end of the night."
"Alright, but then we're definitely addressing the whole you following me thing." I faltered over whether or not to holster my gun. "I'm guessing since you're not panicking, who ever may or may not be pursuing you isn't down here."
"I came down here to dodge them." Loki continued to look out towards the water and then turned to survey the boulder I'd used to climb down. "Could you give me a hand up?"
"Of course, m'lady, should I lay my coat down on the rock so you don't scuff your dress?"
"I only ask because I've never been particularly athletic. But, if you're offering, I'd love to spare these shoes the injury."
"I'll give you a push up, but there is no way in Hell this jacket is taking the hit."
It was a damn nice suit. Out of all my regrets from that whole debacle, wearing that suit out of the house is right up their at the top.
I gestured to the large rock with the universal gesture for 'after you' .
Loki placed his hands on the protruding curvature and tentatively set a foot near the base. After an initial test press of his limbs, he began to pull himself upwards.
I grasped him by what turned out to be narrow hips, and tried to prevent any falling backwards onto the damp sand, that might threaten to occur. Once it became clear that climbing was truly not the man's forte, I gave as best a boost I could and discovered that, like is so often the case with tall, thin people, he was heavier than he looked.
My assistance succeeded in speeding his ascent, but to my amusement, made it no more graceful. I couldn't help but wonder if Iceland was very, very flat.
Pushing a man I'd had to turn away, because he'd gotten himself tangled up in a web I didn't want to get caught in, up a boulder from beneath the boardwalk was not anything like my plans for the night had been. I may have been farther from my bed than I liked, with no one to take to it, but at least I wasn't bored.
Loki had stood carefully and reached to grasp the wood of the boardwalk while I moved to grab hold and climb.
"What was with all that banging and yelping if you were alone down here?" I asked, the situation not adding up right.
"I climbed down here from that ledge over there, and had to use those barrels to make it." He began to try and pull himself up by propping a foot against the support beam, "I told you I wasn't very athle-" then moved upwards with the unnatural force and speed of outside interference.
His small noise of surprise was accompanied by a voice I did not recognize.
Maybe boredom wasn't such a bad option after all.
"Heh. Got him." The voice announced smugly.
"Fuckin' finally. You know how long we been hoofin' it for the boss to get our hands on you?" A second asked with malice.
That was one of those moments when you wish you were cowardly enough to stay out of harm's way.
I knew that just jumping up there was a bad idea. I needed both hands to climb, and there was no guarantee that I'd get the drop on them and draw first. Standing there in the dark, shoes caked in sand, the more important question revealed itself to be: Do they know I'm down here?
"Get up." The first voice snapped.
"Gentleman, if we could just-" Loki was again interrupted, this time by a loud slap.
"He said move it!"
The sound was so acute that my cheek practically stung. when you've been slapped as many times as I have, the sensation is easy to bring to mind.
I made a dash for the barrel's he'd jumped down on to get under the walk and hoped the reason he went back up a different way was because he was shit at climbing, and not because the distance between the barrels and the platform above it was just too high. If it was too high for him to reach, I was screwed.
My shoes felt slick on the rim once I clambered atop one, and I ground down to wedge the edge between the heel and ball of my shoe, while trying to keep steady. The last thing I needed was to knock the damn things over.
Walking along their tops until I could align myself with the edge of the boardwalk was like walking on absurdly large, unbroken, egg shells-Like trying to sneak up on a dragon by climbing through its nest.
The horrifyingly loud smack my fingers were going to make when they met the wood successfully loomed heavy on my mind as I stared up at the ledge and jumped up to grip it.
I hoped they were occupied enough, and that I was far enough off to the right, that my emergence wasn't going to catch their attention.
The muscles in my arms protested the straining pull of my body weight, but they held fast, and I managed to snake an arm around the tower viewer and kicked a leg up over the side.
I made a note to thank Steve for dragging me along for his ridiculous workouts.
Rolling on as silently as possible, I drew my gun before I made it to my knees.
"Hold up boys, you'll be leaving him with me." I steadied myself on my feet, exceedingly glad to have solid board walk beneath them.
Both men spun to face me. The taller man tugged Loki with him, having a solid hold on the man's arm folded behind his back.
"And who the Hell are you?" The one with the second voice, who I was pretty sure had been the one to deliver that slap, practically spat.
"Listen bud," The man holding Loki began, managing to sound fractionally more civil, "why don't you just run along? You don't know who you're dealing with."
"I think I'm dealing with two mindless thugs acting as errand boys for a very bad man, who are now going to set any weapons they might have tucked away, on the ground, and let go of my friend here."
The shorter man scowled and turned to his companion, who looked more hesitant.
"We can't just let him go. The boss'll have our heads."
"I think you'll find your heads splattered across the boardwalk here and now, if you don't do what he says." Loki put in surprisingly calmly, but grimaced in pain as his arm received a sharp twist in retaliation.
"Hey." I snapped. "Still right here."
I've never understood the urge to resist the man who has a gun pointed at you, it's just stupid. What do people expect, to be able to outrun a bullet?
The two criminals made frustrated eye contact. The first swore under his breath and shoved Loki my direction.
"Good start. Guns on the ground."
"Alright, alright." The ruder of the two henchman growled. "Just don't get trigger happy."
Loki made busy smoothing himself down and moving to hover behind me, while his two assailants slowly drew out weapons, and placed them on the ground.
"Do you have a quarter?" I asked the man hovering out of sight.
"I do."
"Then run across the street and call the cops." I said, volume for his ears only, while I gestured for the duo to back away from their derelict fire arms.
I felt Loki step into my personal space before he spoke.
"We can't call them."
"And why is that, exactly?"
"They'll make us come in for questioning. I can't be stuck in one place for hours, with an official record of my presence when a man like Dooms after me. I doubt I'll make it three blocks when they let me go."
His words were truer than I wanted them to be. He'd wind up full of lead in no time.
"Well, what do you suggest we do? Just run off and leave these two?"
"No." Loki worried at his bottom lip and reached out to grasp my arm not occupied with holding a loaded gun. "We can deal with them however you want, just-please," There were those glistening eyes again,"don't get me involved with the police. I don't want to die."
Honest to God, I can't tell you why I did it. It might have been guilt, maybe it was my libido; Hell, I very well might've just been tired, but against my better judgment, I listened.
"Give me your jacket."
When I make up my mind, things start to move very quickly, and for better or for worse, I'd made my decision.
"My jacket?"
"We need something to tie them up with, and we are not using mine."
Loki obediently pealed off the long garment and held it out for me.
"I'm holding the gun, you do the tying."
He nodded and began to twist it into a thick makeshift rope.
"Shall I tie them to the street lamp?"
"Might as well."
"Gentleman," Loki projected so his assailants turned captives could hear him, "Please come over here and press your backs to the post."
Gentlemen, I don't remember the last time the term applied less.
He made quick work of the odd task, and did a fine job of ignoring the two men's bitter mutterings.
I was cold. The metal of my gun was unpleasant against my palm, and the wind from the water unkind. The city's indifference was palatable.
The quiet gust ruffled Loki's downy, ink black hair, and as he bent over the two crooks, his face hidden from view, I couldn't shake the comparison to a lone dark crow. The harbinger of death-graceful and preened, even as it brings its bad tidings. It seemed fitting, maudlin as I am when drunk.
He gathered the abandoned weapons and hurled them out into the water, and came to stand by me, arms wrapped around himself.
If he'd been a broad I would have given him my coat; but he wasn't.
"We don't have to stay and wait for them, but we're calling the police."
Loki nodded, none of his previous desperation visible. The quiet air of his need of help was still thick, and the shivering was not helping.
"Shall I, or will you?"
"You can do the honors."
As I leaned against a phone booth while an Icelandic immigrant on the lamb from a Latverian crime boss extraordinaire called the cops, and I made certain to keep an eye on the two thugs tied to a lamp post across the street, I should have probably been asking myself what in the Hell I was doing, but I was already years past wondering how I got myself in situations I shouldn't.
"It's done." He said with a small thankful smile.
"Where are you going for the night?" I inquired as we walked hurriedly down a side street, and left the brighter ocean side, to the distant call of "You can't run forever, Loki. He'll find you."
"I don't know." He didn't bother to look back. "I don't have any money."
"How were you planning on paying me?"
"I have money in the bank. Just waltzing downtown mid morning isn't exactly safe."
Loki gave a little shiver, whether from fear or cold, I didn't know.
Already pink skin was rosy at the cheeks from the nip of the wind.
I couldn't fight reconsidering giving the man my suit jacket, but in the end resisted; there was no point in feeding my inexplicable urge to take responsibility for his well being.
"Where did you sleep last night?" I asked when I realized I didn't know when he'd gotten himself into trouble.
"I didn't sleep last night. No where felt secure. It's not as if I can go home."
He looked better than I do when I don't get sleep, and there was a moment of vanity where all I could think was about how it pissed me off.
"If there's one thing I know, Mr. Laufeyson, its when someone is angling to go home with me. The circumstances are certainly not the usual ones, but it applies."
"Are you offering to take me home with you, Mr. Stark?"
There was no use pretending I wasn't. The neat, shivering mass of wide green eyes, dark hair, and mannerisms I enjoyed more than I should wasn't going to wind up with a bullet in his brain on my conscience.
"I could never resist picking up strays as a kid. 'Guess I haven't changed."
"I'll see you well compensated for your trouble, of course."
"I think I might just settle for not getting shot."
Loki smiled and it wasn't demure or flattering like the smiles in my office, nor was it thankful like the smile by the phone. It was sly, and it suited him.
"So, I don't have to pay you?"
"Don't push your luck. I expect to be flattered and thanked profusely if I even bother to feed you."
"Feed me?" He cocked an eyebrow and smiled wider. "How long are you planning on letting me stay?"
"We'll see. Now, put those long gams of yours to use and pick up the pace. I wanted to be home an hour ago."
We arrived at my building in silence. It was all dark, Pepper had gone home ages ago, no doubt, because that's where smart people are in this city at one in the morning: At home, in bed, most certainly not taking in a stranger with the mob after him.
"Do you live here?" Loki asked, dragging his eyes up and down the structure.
"Yah." I pulled my keys from my pocket and let us out of the cold. "I own the building. Office on the bottom floor, everything else on the top."
He ran his fingers along the lacquered edge of Pepper's desk.
"So, where do you want me for the night?"
I bit back a salacious response.
"I've got a guest room."
Getting him settled in was as easy as bringing him to the room and pointing out the amenities. It wasn't a hotel, and I wasn't planning on providing room service.
"Thank you. You're kindness has not gone unnoticed, believe me. I understand why you wouldn't want to get yourself mixed up in all this, and I appreciate that you're even willing to open your home to me for the night." He said, from where he'd settled on the edge of the large bed.
"I can't exactly send you on to your death, now, can I?"
"You could have, but you didn't."
"In the morning, after I've gotten a decent night's sleep, I expect the whole story on this little crisis you've wandered into. Alright?"
"Alright."
"Get some rest. It sounds like you need it."
He smiled at me and nodded, looking probably half as tired as I felt. "I certainly plan to."
"Good." I turned to make my exit. "Gotta' get that beauty sleep after all."
"Oh- Mr. Stark?" He called out to still me.
"Yah?"
"In Iceland nobody calls each other by their last name if they can help it, and it feels awfully strange to do so still. Could I call you Anthony instead?"
I had to admit the sound sounded good on his tongue, plus, I'd fallen into the habit of addressing him formally in the short time we'd been acquainted because that's how he addressed me, more than anything else.
"No, but you can call me Tony."
He chuckled. "Of course you can call me Loki, if you like."
"I would. Laufeyson doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, and I don't feel like saying it every time I need to get your attention."
"Every time? Does that mean you plan on helping me?"
"Yah. I think it does, Loki."
"Then, many thanks, and sleep well-Tony."
"Right back 'atcha."
I shut the door behind me and considered if I should lock him in. It's one thing to try to help a pretty stranger avoid death, another to trust him. I couldn't imagine the teary eyed, upright man who could barely scale a boulder pulling anything over on anybody. But hey, you know what they say about assumptions.
A/N2: Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated.