A couple of hours, a dine and dash, three bummed cigarettes, and a five mile trek to the heart of DC later, Tony finds the Martell and stumbles around to the back, where he finds a brick wall and slumps against it, plopping firmly in a pile of cigarette butts.
He isn't high enough to stave off the pain of a body that hates what's being done to it.
He's nineteen and feels like he's eight hundred.
"Fuck me." He hears someone say and is delighted that it's the cynical british 'fuck me' of a man who knows he's in deep shit, rather than the leering 'fuck me' of an american man looking to stick his dick in something.
Tony's got rug burn in places he didn't know existed and he doesn't know how it got there. His knees look like ground meat.
He recognizes the voice too, which is helpful.
"Tony?" Peters sounds like someone's terrified mother. Tony can smell the cigarette he's smoking and blindly reaches out for either a drag or one of his own. He ends up with his had wrapped around the man's clean shaven calf.
"Get off, poofy git." Says the man affectionately and Tony feels a cigarette placed between his thumb and forefinger.
"Mate, where the fuck have you been?"
Tony shrugs and inhales. He looks up for the first time to see Peters standing in front of him dressed in something skin tight and purple. His arms are crossed.
"I'm honestly not even sure. I remember I was at that party Loki took me to. Next thing I knew I was piled into the back of a station wagon with a sack of coke the size of a small child, and there's a reason I've been called daddy. Then I was flying, man."
Tony starts coughing. It suddenly occurs to him that his throat is killing him.
"That's all you remember?"
Tony can see bits and pieces of it in flashes. He sees a redhead bouncing on his prick and its followed by a flash of two guys taking turns on his mouth and its followed by the taste of vodka and whiskey in one glass.
"More or less." He says and it seems that his throat suddenly hurts even more. He's fighting the urge to run screaming and scrub out his insides with turpentine.
"Loki is going to fucking kill you."
Suddenly Tony wonders how this didn't occur to him while he was wandering back to his master like a well-trained dog. Tony doesn't know what he looks like, but he knows it can't be pretty.
"You smell like a whorehouse and look like you've been mauled by a pack of bleeding vampires. These aren't even your fucking clothes. Tony, what are you doing?"
"Well mother, I'm just..."
Tony can't finish. Suddenly all he can taste is whiskey, vodka, and cock. His stomach churns unpleasantly twice before he's curled up on the ground, vomiting up the black coffee and waffles he'd inhaled before running out of the diner.
It's like acid eating away at his already sore throat.
He starts to cry. He feels truly disgusting.
"Oh fuck me!" Says Peters and Tony hears him disappear through the door his body convulses and he wretches. He feels like half of his back muscles have snapped.
Tony hears Loki before he sees him.
Even while cursing a blue streak his voice is distinctive. When the door slams open Tony moans. His temples start to throb.
When he's kicked onto his back and his stomach flips he lets out a cry. There is a lime green leather boot pressing into his chest with nearly enough force to crack his ribs. When Tony can open his eyes he looks up.
Loki looks like he could quite literally eat him alive.
"You gotta keep him on his side or he'll choke-"
"Kindly shut the fuck up Peters." Loki growls and Tony shivers despite himself. "Looks like that's all he's fucking good for, anyway. Either that or he stuck his whore mouth in a beehive."
Tony wants to die.
"Look, Loki, if you're done with him then let him go. Don't kill the kid."
Loki presses down harder and Tony wheezes. He doesn't know how much more his ribs can take.
"Done." Says Loki flatly and if Tony wasn't afraid of possible death before, he is now.
"Done?" Loki's teeth are grinding together and when he moves his foot Tony scurries away as best he can.
"Done!" When Loki screams Tony finds himself being kicked against the wall with such force that he actually can't see for a second. When he comes to he's throwing up again and Loki is looking at him like he's something awful that he's stepped in, which is actually the reality of it. When he takes a step closer Tony starts to physically shake. Loki's got his blood on his pumps.
The rock god kneels down. His skin is dusted with shimmering silver and black rings his eyes and fans out to sharp points. He's dressed in deep, dark green lace. When he opens his silver dusted lips to speak it comes out like a growl and the look in his eyes is terrifying.
"I am going to send you back to the hotel." He leans in closer and Tony wants to inch away, but he's caught between Loki and a brick wall. He begins in a low, soft whisper. "If you set even one fucking foot out of that room before I get back I will tear you apart with my bare fucking hands. Do you understand?"
Tony barely manages to nod.
FGS: Hahaha. I mean, my endings are either bittersweet or open ended or like horrible fucking tragedies. Like everything I write just gets so whacked out complex and out of hand that happy endings don't work. Sometimes I can't even technically end things and the story doesn't end but the telling stops. You don't even know how hard short prompt fills are for me. I want to make them all like 9000000000000 years long
Stormy: Bowie is pronounced Bow (like hawkeye) and eeeee (like a whole bunch of e's put together). Just so you know. Sometimes depending on the accident people call him Bough-ieee BUT THEY ARE WRONG.
Nev: Impending doom you say? You know me well...
Jen: YOU LIGHT UP MY LIFE WOMAN. Thanks so much! My fleet of OTP's includes Destiel, Johnlock, Mormor, Frostpudding, Holmescest, Snape/Everyone, and Mystrade, but I've read everything from Pepperony to Batman/Robocop.
Plastic Cello: Thanks! And 70's rock is like all I do. Like I pretty much have the taste in music my dad has, haha. Like I'm a forty year old man inside, so when I ask hipster kids if they play any old school rock and they say 'I know some R.E.M' I have learned not to go all 'kids these days' on them. And I love R.E.M, don't get me wrong, but there was like fifty years or so of awesomeness happening before them. It's just David Bowie's music is like the most important thing to me in the world and he's saved my life so many times, so when people don't get it I just ASDFGHJKL PEASANTS. And ALSO, I am honestly on a mission to drown the internet in feels. I am glad it's working.
loria: YES. YES. YES. YES. I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO NOTICE. YYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSS SSSSSSSS. YOU HAVE MADE MY DAY FOREVER.
Starkid: Well, I don't know about you, but I'm pretty much just a stoner that drinks a lot of white russians and wine. So that's what I'm on, man. It sounds like you've got a case of the fic shakes, my friend.
Sen: Thanks so much, man. I honestly don't know what other AU's are like, since I rarely read them. I got pretty disillusioned with all of the fucking frostiron hipster coffee shop AU's in a hot minute. Until Destiel, I had never found a highschool/college AU I liked either. I found them all fucking unrealistic and ridiculous and Loki to generally be characterized as a thirteen year old girl in a twenty year old man's body. Literally, Highschool/College Destiel are pretty much the only hardcore entirely different universe AU's I read on the regular though. Dude, there is like an overabundance of brilliant destiel fic. Like I can't even fucking handle it. These people have had nearly a decade to craft fucking art and they have made some fucking art. Holy shit. Like I am actually afraid to post my own Destiel fic because I feel like there's no way it's half as good as what these people do.
Mama: Thanks so much! And dude, Velvet Goldmine is my life.