Author's note: Dress-up time, everyone! :D
Yup, the closet in their room is filled to the brim with fancy alien clothing alright, he realizes as he opens the snakehead-handled door, gingerly peering inside. Leather and furs and garish fabrics in constellations that would make a renaissance fair enthusiast turn green with envy, could they at all see him.
There is a plethora of frilly shirts, hooded cloaks, fur-lined jackets, embroidered coats, all the kind of stuff you wouldn't see at your local clothes outlet. Nothing that looks normal or ordinary by simple Midgardian standards, by any stretch of the imagination.
And damn, he's actually expected to wear this stuff?
He takes out a green shirt with long, puffy arms, holding it out in front of him to regard it with a blank expression. Wow, he'd look like a freaking pirate captain wearing this. Jack Sparrow would be proud.
No, not that. Instead, he pulls the next item in line out – a red jacket with so much gold embroideries decorating it that there's almost more gold than red visible.
Circus ringmaster.
Sighing, he brings out another couple of get-ups from the closet, but the immediate associations he gets are 'Satanist cult leader' and 'pimped-up Robin Hood', respectively, so he quickly hangs them back inside again.
"Uh," he mutters dumbly. "Think you could help me out here, picking something out that would be appropriate? I mean, I don't want to accidentally put on some women's stuff or whatever," he says to the god standing some bit behind him, watching as he haphazardly flips through the items hanging on display in the closet.
A few seconds later, Loki is at Tony's side, deft hands rummaging through the garments, pausing at some to give them a quick but no doubt qualified evaluation. It doesn't take long before the god has picked out a few of the items, folding them over his arm and holding them out to Tony.
"I believe these would be suitable," he says with a nod.
Hesitantly, Tony accepts the bundle of clothing, critically examining it. Most definitely not what he'd wear back home, that's for sure. Even in New York, he'd get some really strange looks walking down the streets in this. Even during Halloween. But at least it's not as bad as the circus ringmaster or the Satanist cult leader getups.
There's a pair of pants that he first assumes are made of some sort of black fabric, but upon closer inspection it turns out to be leather, surprisingly soft against his fingers. Next in line is a blue shirt with some lacing at the top – undoubtedly the most straightforward piece of clothing of the lot – a short dark grey jacket that he isn't even sure how he's going to squirm his way into, and finally the ubiquitous cloak, also blue in colour. It billows softly from where it's draped across his arm.
Looking at the items, he gets that overwhelming deja vu feeling, remembering the clothes Loki had worn during their first encounter, with the numerous belts and straps and buckles.
"You should try them on and make sure they fit, or we will have to find you something else," Loki says somewhere at his side.
He sighs. Yeah, he should. Though eyeing the clothes, he's not really sure how to.
"Damn, how do you guys even dress yourselves in the morning with all this… extra?" he asks, fingers plucking at one of the countless straps.
"That's why there are servants around to help," Loki says as his shoulders bob upwards in a shrug. "Clothes worn for festive occasions aren't made for easy dressing; you are supposed to have servants assist you."
"Well, guess I'll have to make do anyway," Tony says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm not going to have some old fat guy come in here and dress me up like I'm some mannequin, alright?"
He briefly considers going to the bathroom to get changed, but then decides not to. Given everything that's transpired, it would only look daft – they've already stripped down to their underwear in each other's presence the night before, even slept in the same bed in that very same state, and will no doubt be repeating the procedure tonight, so acting like the straight-laced prude that he's really not would just be silly at this point.
Throwing the garments over the clothes stand right next to him – at least he assumes that the dramatically outstretched arm of the man-shaped metal figure on the floor is supposed to serve as clothing holder, though maybe it's really just another statue – he quickly strips out of his shirt and his jeans, dispensing of them on the floor. Then he grabs the leather pants, stepping into them and pulling them up to his waist.
Okay, that was the easy part, then there's the straps and buckles that he isn't sure what goes where. He fiddles with a few of the loose ends for a while, trying to solve the unfamiliar puzzle with rather unsatisfactory results.
"Here, let me help you," Loki says as he with two quick steps breeches the distance between them. Before Tony can protest, the god's hands are grabbing at a strap and a buckle, deftly slipping the leather into the piece of blank metal, pulling it tight, before making short process of the rest of the dangling ends.
Then Loki crouches down next to him as his fingers go to the leather at Tony's right side, starting to work on the lacing running the entire way along the leg, adjusting and tightening it.
And damn if this isn't totally awkward.
"You know," he says, being on the verge of swatting Loki's hands away as they're fiddling at his thigh, "I actually think I can manage this just fine by myself."
"In that case, I think we would be here for a long time. Even an Asgardian noble used to this would have trouble dressing himself in these kinds of clothes without a servant to assist him," the god says, stopping only briefly to look up at Tony, before continuing to tug at the lacing again.
"You mean you had people helping you dress every freaking morning?" Tony asks as Loki works away. Somehow, he has a hard time imagining that.
Loki's lips tug slightly upwards at the question. "No. I had my magic to help me; servants were not necessary. Still, few would wear clothes this impractical with any regularity; usually, it's just for occasions when you want to look your best. Even nobles would generally prefer to be seen in clothing fit for battle when they're not attending festive activities."
And he wishes the god would be finished with the lacing-up already, but from the looks of it, he's not even halfway done yet. Trying to dispel some of the weirdness, he gropes around for something to say, something to keep the conversation going so that the focus won't have to be Loki's fingers running down the side of his leg.
"So, what is this Hallgrim guy like?" he asks. "Any quirks I should be aware of?"
"He's a loud and boisterous man, and often you can hear him coming long before you see him," Loki says, his fingers not missing a beat. "He likes to eat and drink, and, like Thor said, he takes an interest in the other realms and enjoys conversing with foreign visitors. Just humour him, and he will be happy."
"Does he… have a quarrel with you?" Tony says, not sure he wants to hear the answer.
"Not that I know of," Loki replies, shifting slightly where he's crouching as his fingers move lower to the vicinity of Tony's knee. "Not more so than anyone else in Asgard, at least."
"Should I be concerned that someone will… try something?"
Loki shakes his head. "You are an honoured guest, not only of Thor's, but for the evening also of Hallgrim's. As long as neither of us provokes anyone, there should be no need for concern. And besides, Hallgrim enjoys merriment and gets cross if he has it spoiled with strife or discontent. His guests are well aware of that and can be expected to act accordingly."
"So is this going to be like a big hoopla with lots of guests attending?"
"There will likely be quite many people there. Hallgrim likes having guests in his Halls to enjoy food and drink with him, and the more, the better," Loki says as he finishes the lacing on Tony's first leg and then moves over to start working on the second. "There will probably be some dancing as well after the dinner is over, and if a lady comes up to you and asks you for a dance, you should not refuse her; it would be very impolite."
Wonderful.
There is silence for a while. Then another thought hits him. "And what are you supposed to be doing during the evening?" Another thing he's not sure he wants to know, because he has an inkling already.
He can feel Loki tense slightly at his side. "Like all other slaves brought along to attend to their masters during the dinner, I will be kneeling by your seat, filling your cup when it's empty, assisting you with whatever might be needed," comes the taut reply as the god stands up and goes to fetch the shirt from the clothes stand, handing it to Tony.
"And let me guess, slaves don't even get to eat anything, huh?" he says as he takes the offered shirt and pulls the fabric over his head. He hates this dinner with a passion already, and it hasn't even started yet.
"They do not," Loki answers, stepping behind Tony to fasten something at his back, pulling the fabric a bit tighter around him.
Figures.
Well, at least the clothes are his size so far, he would have hated having to spend more time than necessary trying to find something from this freaks'r'us clothing department. Small graces, and all that.
"But their masters are still free to feed them morsels during dinner if they should feel so inclined," Loki continues, holding out the weird-looking jacket to Tony for him to stick his arms into.
Like feeding a dog treats at the table. A wave of unease washes over him at the demeaning concept.
He says nothing as Loki once more starts to work on the straps and the buckles, letting something click into place on top of his shoulder, and then pulls at some leather cords beneath his arms, tying them together.
"So… are you okay with coming along to this Hallgrim guy?" he asks, feeling he at least needs to poise the question, even if they don't have a choice in the end.
"I will not be enjoying the evening ahead of us, no, but it will still be preferable to the possible consequences of offending Hallgrim. At least these will be nobles, and as such they have more class than simple servants or soldiers. Most would consider it beneath their station to at all notice or comment on the presence of a slave, even if that slave happens to be… me," Loki says, and then looks inside the closet again, obviously searching for something.
"Well, that's wonderful." He lets slip a sigh as he waits for whatever weird item Loki is about to pull out next, not sure he wants to know.
And when Loki turns back to Tony again, his eyes go wide as he stares at what's cradled in Loki's arms – a leather belt with a big-ass sword attached to it.
"Uh, are you sure that's necessary?" he says with a toss of his chin at the medieval weapon, feeling like an idiot. "It's not like I know how to use one anyway."
"People would think you look half-naked without one. It's not how you should attend a dinner," Loki says simply as his arms reach around to circle Tony to fasten the belt around his waist.
Tony instinctively holds his breath at that, feeling a sense of relief when Loki is finished and takes a step back. The sword is an unfamiliar weight at his side, pulling uncomfortably at him, and he resists the sudden urge to draw it, deciding it's for the better to leave it in its scabbard where it belongs. He's no doubt looking silly enough already without brandishing a sword when he's just barely able to tell which end is the pointy one.
"Oh, and by the way, if I should say or do something inadvisable during dinner, could you, like, I don't know, poke my leg or something to make sure I shut up? I'll try to be on my best behaviour, but I might inadvertently insult the host's mother by holding my glass the wrong way or whatever, so some discreet pointers might be needed," he says as he watches Loki get the last item from the clothes stand – the still billowing cloak.
"I will do that," Loki says as he fastens the cloak to something on Tony's shoulders, then letting the long fabric fall freely towards the floor.
Well, that's it, he supposes. Now he looks just like one of them, like an extra that has just walked out of the set of Lord of the Rings. He dreads stepping around to look into the mirror blocked by the still open door to the closet, instead turning towards Loki for the first evaluation.
"So, how do I look?"
He's half expecting Loki to laugh or at least snicker at the no doubt discrepant sight, but the god doesn't, merely lets his eyes travel over the display in silence, before his gaze finally looks up to meet with Tony's, his face straight and serious.
"Like a true Lord."
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