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“… Tony, you can’t…” Tony picked a tumbler from his cabinet, and placed it on the counter, before cutting her rant.
“You will find that I can Pepper. It’s my party. I can damn well cancel if I want.”
“But…”
“No buts. You can host the Gala without me if you must- if it’s relevant to the business interests- but I am not going to come.” He set his jaw resolutely, not ready to be swayed by any amount of coaxing.
“You can’t just refuse to show up to your own party!”
“Why not? Nobody is going to be there for me anyway.” He dared her to deny that, dared her to convince him otherwise. She won’t succeed.
Once, Pepper had that power over him. Not now. (And if she did, she would never abuse it-not now, not after everything; he found he was grateful for that.)
She probably could read his determination in his voice because she sighed, “Tony Stark. You are a piece of work, you know that.”
“I live for it.” A laugh seem to punch out of his chest, startling him.
She laughed too, before sobering up. “It’s not about the business…”
Tony cleared his throat and she huffed, “Alright maybe it is,” she allowed, “but it’s not entirely about business. You shouldn’t have to be alone. Not on your birthday.”
“I am not alone, I have JAR…” Tony caught himself, the pang of loss too overwhelming for a moment before shaking his head and plastering a grin on his face, even if she couldn’t see it. “I have Dum-E. We will have fun.”
Pepper hesitated, and Tony wished he didn’t know what was coming. He poured himself his most expensive scotch as he waited and steeled himself, hoping that it would help. “Do you want me to come…”
It didn’t.
“No!” He cut her again, harshly.
“Alright,” she deflated, “I won’t. But you don’t have to be alone. You are allowed to have friends, Tony.”
“Friends.” Tony picked up his drink and took a large gulp, the burn in his throat masking the burn in his heart. “Yeah. Right.”
“Tony…”
“Good bye Pepper. I will talk to you later.”
“Happy Birt-“
The called dropped, and Tony sighed in relief, glad it was over.
He swirled the ice in his glass for a few seconds, staring at it, and then drained the rest of the drink in one go as well, swallowing down his emotions with the liquor.
“Mr. Stark,” F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke and Tony sighed again. He had to get used to her, but it was proving difficult. At least the female voice had stopped startling him, even if it never failed to remind him of what he had lost. “Ms. Potts has sent you a text.”
“What does it say?”
“Happy Birthday.”
Tony chuckled, because otherwise he felt like he would sob, and turned around to eye the scotch bottle again. He picked it up, planning to fill his glass, but decided otherwise.
“FRIDAY, did you order what I had asked?” He rifled through the drawers looking for a candle.
“Yes Sir. A chocolate cupcake is currently lying in the refrigerator.”
“Perfect. What will I ever do without you?” He found the candle and moved towards the fridge, half expecting a clever comeback, an ‘I am afraid to imagine such a scenario… Sir,’ or if it he was in particularly snarky mood, ‘Crash and burn, I suppose’. It took him a moment to realize none was coming, and it still took him by surprise how much that hurt.
He had not just lost an AI in JARVIS. He had lost a friend.
He picked up the cake from fridge, grabbed the bottle of scotch, and started his way towards his workshop. There, at least, he knew he would always be welcome.
The doors whirred open when he approached. Dum-E sliding around the floor towards him, like a dog awaiting its master, and Tony felt an affectionate smile crawl on his face. He could always trust in Dum-E’s loyalty, and sheer stupidity.
“Grab me the blow torch Dum-E,” he ordered, and then regretted it- not really, it was entertaining- as he watched it pick the wrong things, and having to keep repeating, ‘No,’ ‘Not this,’ ‘Not this one either.’
When it finally found the right tool and brought it towards him, Tony could bet it looked hopeful. “Yeah, yeah, good job.” The claws rotated in happiness, and fuck, when did Tony become the sap who reads into the actions of his machinery.
“Come on. Let’s eat cake.” Even though he was the only one who could eat it, Dum-E followed him obediently as he placed the cake on a work bench, and lighted the candle on it with a blow-torch. He sat down in a chair, and Dum-E position itself beside him.
He looked around, at the empty workshop, and felt a moment of peace. He didn’t have to put up an act here, didn’t have to fake that he was alright. Sometimes being alone was preferable to pretending otherwise; the empty silence of his safe place preferable to barely hidden jibes of his would-be comrades.
“I guess, happy fucking birthday to me, or whatever.” He was bitter, but he guessed he was entitled. Dum-E fidgeted nervously, and he half expected JARVIS to reprimand him, but oh yeah, he had lost his trusted AI too.
He took a long swig from the bottle, bitter taste matching the bitterness inside him, and was about to blow the candle when F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke.
“Mr. Stark. I apologize for the interruption but I am detecting some distinct magical signatures in the penthouse.”
Tony sighed. He couldn’t even catch a break on his birthday.
“Who is it?” He already had an idea. There was only one magical being insane and cocky enough to show up in his penthouse.
“I believe it is Mr. Loki Laufeyson, Sir. Should I sound the alarm and initiate emergency protocols?”
Tony thought about it for a while, about what his course of action should be. He should alert SHEILD, but he felt like being reckless. He decided he was allowed that, at least today. He could start being responsible tomorrow.
“No.” He placed the bottle back on the table and interlaced his fingers, waiting, “Let him know where to find me.”
F.R.I.D.A.Y was a perfect AI, and did not question his life choices. Insolence had not crept into its tone… not yet. A moment later he heard the soft sound of the door opening and he called out, without looking up.
“Welcome to the party.”
Loki stepped into his line of sight, and Tony slowly drew his gaze up. The lunatic was clad in all leather- It was May for fuck’s sake; how did he not boil alive under all that. Tony felt envious of the god’s apparent ability to be unaffected by temperature.
“So this is what it’s like to be one the Earth’s heroes. Celebrating the day of your birth alone,” Loki taunted in lieu of hello.
“Ouch. Hasn’t anyone taught you not to be mean to the birthday boy?” Tony smirked. From Loki, you could expect the venom. That made it strangely easier to bear.
“What would you have me say instead?” Loki asked, looking a little perplexed.
“Happy Birthday maybe?”
“I fail to see what is… happy… about the situation.” Loki rolled the word on his tongue in distaste, tilting his head.
Tony supposed he had a point. “You’re right,” he muttered and got up from his chair, walking towards a cabinet. He looked inside and picked up two beakers, and a small metal saw. When he turned around and placed the things on the counter, Loki was looking at him quizzically. He probably came here expecting a fight. Well, let nobody say Tony Stark was a predictable man.
“You will have to forgive me for the bad hospitality. I wasn’t expecting guests. I am guessing you like cake.”
When Loki didn’t reply, Tony started wondering why he showed up here anyway. Maybe he was bored. That seemed to be the reason he did most of the mayhem causing anyway. “So… what brings you here?” he asked, as he poured his scotch into the beakers.
“What in the name of the Norns are you doing?” Loki dodged the question and Tony smirked.
“Giving you the drink I promised. A long time ago.”
“Ah.” Loki seemed to remember that moment too, a smile appearing on his face. “A man of his word then.”
“Always.” He said, and took a sip from the drink while nudging the other one towards his company.
Loki picked up the drink- made a face at the beaker- and took a swallow. Tony grinned at the look of appreciation on his face; Loki noticed it because he turned it into one of disgust instantly- the melodramatic bastard- and mocked, “So this is what’s your plan: drown yourself in alcohol until you forget how isolated you are?”
“Oh please,” Tony scoffed. “Alcohol stopped working in university. No. I would need much stronger than that to achieve what you’re claiming.” He swung the saw around, asking, “Cake?”
“What?”
“I said do you want cake? It’s sweet, and delicious. Humans eat it to celebrate important moments.”
“I know what cake is,” Loki scowled. Honestly, he was so much fun to rile up.
“So, you would like to eat it?” He pointed the saw towards the small dessert on the table. It was meant to be for one, but he wouldn’t mind sharing.
“I suppose… as I am already here.”
“Great! You mind if I blow the candle first? I was going to do that, before you so rudely interrupted, and it’s almost completely melted now.”
Loki looked at him like he was insane, and yeah, maybe to him it looked that way. “Why would you want to blow a candle?”
“It’s tradition. You blow candles on the cake, others clap and sing for you. I don’t suppose you would be interested in that, would you?”
The look of plain disgust on Loki’s face startled a surprisingly genuine laughter out of him. It tasted strange on his tongue… unfamiliar. He made a whole show of rubbing his hands and sucking in breath, before blowing at the flame and extinguishing it. He looked up in pride at Loki, and found him looking bemused.
“You’re supposed to say Happy Birthday,” Tony pouted.
“And why would I wish such a thing, Stark? Why would I wish an enemy happiness?”
“Hey! That’s insulting. I offered you a drink, didn’t I?”
“So you did.”
Tony waited, knowing he had won. Loki took another sip, looked around as if searching for a way out and then caved. “Happy Birthday…”
“Aha!”
“You are one year closer to your death now… Mortals, celebrating their approaching demise.”
“You’re such a spoil sport. Did anyone tell you that?” Tony laughed, and cut the cupcake in half. He picked one half up and bit into it, groaning in appreciation. “God. I love cake.”
He nudged the rest of it towards Loki, smirking when he picked it up and took a bite. “Good, right?”
“I suppose it’s not terrible.”
His reluctance to praise anything humans enjoyed was endlessly entertaining. Tony settled down, watching Loki take bites of the cake, totally uncultured for a change. Tony wondered if he knew that you were supposed to eat it with a spoon, but he guessed that Loki won’t care. He looked way too engrossed for that. The bitter, maniacal villain had a sweet tooth: it was adorable.
Loki was licking the frosting from his fingers- long, beautiful, fingers- and Tony decided it was time to up his reckless game. He was never one to deny himself what he wanted, not when it was in easy reach. But first,
“So, why are you really here?” Tony leaned back in his chair and watched the sharp lines of the immortal’s figure tighten.
“Is coming to gloat at your enemy’s misery not reason enough?”
“Uh-huh. You didn’t know that before I let you in.”
“As if you could’ve stopped me, Stark.”
“True,” Tony allowed, “but I could’ve made it a hell of a lot more difficult.”
“Why didn’t you?” Loki asked, genuine curiosity shining in his eyes.
Tony shrugged. He didn’t really have an answer to that. Maybe he was looking for a fight as well, maybe he was looking for a company. Or maybe his self-destructive streak had finally taken over his rational thinking. “I don’t know. Same reason as you probably… I was bored.”
Loki bared his teeth, his entire demeanor changing into one of offense, protest written clearly on his face. He looked at Tony’s face, the small smile lingering there, and seemed to hesitate. Tony smiled wider. Bingo!
“Hey Loki,” he pushed. He really didn’t know when to shut up apparently. “There’s also another tradition linked to birthdays.”
Loki’s anger sort of mellowed, puzzlement taking over, and Tony continued. “A gift. It’s considered rude to come crashing into someone’s celebrations without a gift.”
Loki stalked over towards him, “And why, would I ever bestow any favors to an enemy. Someone who has been actively hunting me for far too long.”
“Hey! You stop the mayhem, I stop the whole… stopping you business.” Tony stood up and backed away a bit, letting Loki crowd him against the counter. “And I mean there really isn’t any reason to get so defensive about forgetting to bring a gift. Actually it’s a good thing… because I have a suggestion.”
Loki was looming now, a few inches taller than him, his green eyes sparking with confused anger. “And what would that be? That I surrender? That I become just a pawn of humans, so they can use and discard as it pleases them.” He snarled, bitter and angry, and Tony could relate so much it hurt. “What good did it do for you, Anthony Stark. You followed the rules, and yet, here you are… abandoned and alone.”
He was. But it didn’t give Loki the right to shove it in his face. Tony shoved aside the indignation for the moment, remember he had a plan. “No, you’re right. That’s not what I am asking. Hell, go wreak havoc right now… it would give me something to do. It can get awfully dull otherwise. I actually had something else in mind…”
Loki’s ever changing temper would never get old. It was like the man was pure emotion, flitting from one to another in the blink of an eye. “And what might that be?” His voice was threateningly sweet, and Tony gave one last thought to self-preservation.
Actually, he waved at it as he flew right past. “A kiss.”
Loki jerked back, as if slapped, Tony’s grasping fingers too powerless to stop his retreat. “What?”
“Kissing. It’s something we mortals enjoy… and from what I have heard, you lot do too.” Tony was rambling. He always rambled when he was nervous.
“Are you daring to taunt me, or have you finally lost your mind?”
“Maybe I have,” Tony knew that was always a possibility. He never let it stop him though. “Or maybe I have thought you are bloody attractive for far too long. Maybe I haven’t gotten laid in a while, and think I deserve a little self-indulgence today. It is, after all, my birthday.” ‘And maybe I am lonely and desperate to feel something real,’ Tony didn’t add. ‘Maybe even an honest punch to my face, a dagger in my side, would be preferable to fake accolades.’
Loki seemed to have read it on his face anyway, and Tony would feel embarrassed by the desperation written on it, except Loki was coming closer, back into his personal space. He spoke, softer now, gentler, “I am your enemy, Stark.”
“Yeah.” Tony agreed, “At least you are honest about it.”
And there it was, the cruel reality of it. He could believe in Loki’s deceptions. Loki lied, but he also announced himself as a liar… so what did that make him? His tricks were more honest than anything else Tony had experienced recently, more dependable.
Something like recognition, like understanding, settled on Loki’s face, and Tony suddenly wanted to push away. He wasn’t looking for pity. But then Loki’s fingers settled on his face, surprisingly gentle, tilting it up. Tony raised himself on his tiptoes, as Loki bent closer, his nose caressing Tony’s cheek.
“You’re a fool,” Loki whispered, and it didn’t sound like an insult. It sounded like awe.
Tony guessed he had to live up to that accusation, so he grabbed Loki’s hair and pressed their lips together.
If he was going to self-destruct, he would damn well go with a bang.
…
Later, Tony would ask, tentative and coy, “So… Would you be interested in accompanying me to my birthday Gala?”
Later, Loki would grin, mischief in his eyes, and say yes.