Author's note: Well, this chapter should answer something a couple of you guys have been wondering. ;)
The agent turns out to be Steve. Not many days later, he's standing there in the middle of Tony's living room with duffel bag in hand, way too early in the morning, as out of place as a punk rocker at an opera concert in Town Hall.
The good Captain looks equal parts uncomfortable about intruding and equal parts all business and duty, his jaw stoically clenched, clearly determined to fulfil even this no doubt unwanted assignment like a real trooper.
And Tony, on his hand, isn't sure whether to be relieved that Fury picked a guy that he knows and is as straight-laced as a tight corset, or annoyed for more or less the same reasons. A part of him is convinced that Fury decided to go with Steve for precisely that very reason instead of one of his usual black-clad clone-like little lackeys. After all, the two of them never did have the most sparkly personal chemistry imaginable, something that Fury would be well aware of. And right now, Mr Dark and Scary is probably rubbing his hands together in glee at knowing how much the Captain's presence in his own tower is going to prickle him.
Then again, given the number of SHIELD agents he's had the misfortune of meeting that seem to fancy themselves a mixture between James Bond and Jack Bauer, he supposes this is preferable, even if he has to sit through daily sermons about morals and decency and proper behaviour. Aspects in which he's already well aware that Stars and Spangles believes him to be sorely lacking.
Oh well. At least no one can accuse him of not being a gracious host. So he steps up to Steve, effectively invading his personal space just a little – but who cares, the guy is a soldier and takes his showers together with other naked men, so something like that isn't going to make him even blink – and gives him a friendly clap on the shoulder.
"Well, if it isn't good old Capsicle," he exclaims cheerfully, as if Steve is a long lost friend suddenly recovered. "This is unexpected, seeing your granite-chiselled face in here. Frankly, I thought Fury would send someone a bit more… ominous."
"Director Fury considered me the best choice for the job partly because you and I are already acquainted," Steve answers, somehow managing to maintain the impression of a rigidly clenched jaw despite being busy talking. "He expressed confidence it would make things run a lot more smoothly that way as opposed to sending someone in who's fully… inexperienced in that regard."
And Tony isn't sure if that's supposed to make him feel flattered or insulted, but he settles for the former.
"Isn't that awesome!" Hey, he's almost sounding sincere, too. "I can't wait to hear all about who won the World Series in '43 and how great Betty Grable was in her latest movie. And in return, I can show you how to work a water closet and take you for a ride in one of those four-wheeled vehicles that have now replaced horses and carriages. We'll have such a great time together," he says pleasantly, bestowing another slap on the rock-hard shoulder.
Well, if he's lucky, perhaps his patented Tony Stark manners will have the man cutting his visit bearably short, taking his holier-than-thou attitude with him, along with the blue spandex. Which he thankfully isn't wearing today. Small favours, and all.
Steve doesn't deign that with an answer. Instead, his eyes shift to focus on something over Tony's shoulder. Despite already knowing what the other man is looking at, Tony turns, following the Captain's gaze to Loki, who is sitting on the couch behind them with a forgotten book still in his lap, watching the proceedings with wary interest.
"Loki," Steve acknowledges, stiff and formal.
"Captain," Loki returns with a slight nod of his head.
"Oh yeah," Tony interrupts them, "sorry for my bad manners, not making formal introductions. But as you've already met, I think I can skip my little speech of 'Steve, meet Loki, alien god-turned-temporarily-mortal, and Loki, meet Steve, self-proclaimed champion of all that's right and just." He gives a flippant shrug at the two gazes, green and blue, that are now firmly locked onto him, as he holds up his hands, palms facing out. "Okay, it's totally not necessary, guys, I know."
Then there's a silence that not even Tony can describe as anything else than awkward, so he grabs hold of Steve's upper arm – and damn, is that seriously the man's bicep or some extra steel-plated padding he's sewn into his shirt? – and ushers him forwards.
"Alright, then, I'm sure the two of you will have plenty of time to get to know each other later on. Even if you probably won't stay all that long, right? Of course, not that you're not welcome to stay long, but I would figure there's only so many days that the world can manage without their dashing protector and guardian to fend for it, right?" he rambles into Steve's tight face. Probably, the guy doesn't like this anymore than he does.
"So, why don't I show you to your room?" he quickly continues. "Should make a nice change from those three-level army bunk beds you're used to, I think. Just make yourself feel right at home, though I'm afraid we don't have any of those communal showers, but I'm sure you'll manage."
Steve isn't protesting as Tony leads him out of the living room and into the hallway, steering him on towards the guest room area. He's going to put Steve up a little bit away from him and Loki; because he doesn't want him too close. Not too far away either, because that would probably just make the guy suspicious; just at a safe, comfortable distance.
"I'll show you the gym later, but I'm sure you'd like to freshen up a little first, get your nose powdered and that kind of stuff," he quips over his shoulder to Steve who is walking one step behind.
"Thank you, Stark," comes the reply, stiff but polite as ever.
"Okay, here we are," Tony indicates with a flowery hand gesture as he stops outside a door to his right, pressing the handle down and stepping inside. "Your humble accommodations for your little stay."
Of course, the room is not very humble at all – nothing in the tower really is, but whatever.
Steve follows him through the doorway and deposits his duffle bag on the middle of the floor. There are a few seconds of silence before the man draws himself up to his full height, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His big arms. And his rock-hard chest. And no, Tony's not jealous at all.
"Alright, so what have you been doing to Loki after he got handed over to you?" Steve demands to know.
Tony cocks his head. "What I've been doing to him?" Sure, he could go into some very vivid details about that, but he's pretty certain that's not what Mr Freeze would be interested in hearing. "What do you mean?"
"Regardless of Asgard's designation of his current station, Loki is a prisoner and should be treated accordingly," Steve says, smoothly avoiding the word 'slave'.
Tony waves a hand at him. "Yeah, yeah, human rights and all that. I know, I've had that little talk with Loki already. And I've done nothing terrible to him, so don't you worry."
The look he gets in return is doubtful and sceptical as the other man eyes him intently, blue steel piercing the distance between them.
"I know your morals are rather loose in certain matters, Stark, and I just hope you haven't abused your position of power in any way," Steve says like he's a teacher admonishing a misbehaving student. "We're supposed to be the good guys, the ones with moral standards, and not lower ourselves to their level."
Tony lets his eyes do an impressive full roll. "Aww, come on, Capsicle, you saw the guy sitting on the couch when you waltzed in here. Seriously, did he look like I had just pulled his nails out or electrocuted his balls or whatever it is they do in those torture camps?" he shoots back, crossing his arms in a not-quite as imposing imitation of the good Captain's posture.
"For someone who's been through torture himself, I'd think you shouldn't speak so light-heartedly of it."
Oh great, so the Capsicle is in a preachy mood today. This could get long-winded if he doesn't quickly do something to stave it off.
"Look," he says, widening his stance to put more authority behind his words, still acutely aware of how small he is compared to Steve. "Loki's fine. Don't believe me? Ask him yourself. I haven't done anything bad to him that would make your precious moral code run off screaming in horror, so just relax, okay?"
Alright, some very liberal stretching of the truth there. But at least those things were consensual, so they don't really count.
"I think I will do just that," Steve answers simply.
Alright then, good. Now it's time for him to get some answers of his own.
He regards Steve's all-American face and poster-boy good looks for a couple of seconds before speaking. "So, exactly what were Fury's orders? What it is that you're supposed to do around here, to be more specific?"
"My mission is to confirm that Loki is indeed as harmless as Director Fury has been given reason to believe, and assess whether there is any need for SHIELD to intervene," comes the reply.
My mission. Spoken like a true solider.
"Well, given that he's already been here in person to check up on our resident god of mischief, Fury sure is a paranoid one if he finds it necessary to send you in as well," Tony says, relaxing his pose as he takes a few paces towards the window, nonchalantly leaning against the pane.
"And with good reason," Steve counters, ever-loyal towards his superior officers.
"Okay, Mr One-Eye isn't here and he can't hear you, so you can stop the brown-nosing already."
Steve's eyebrow gives a slight twitch. "I would think that after everything that's happened, Director Fury is doing well to be wary and not let his guard down."
Yeah, yeah, whatever.
"And how long are you planning on staying in Casa de Stark?"
"For as long as it takes until I can give a reliable report to Fury."
Tony suppresses a wince. Damn. That could be any time.
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