Chapter Text
“Merciful-fucking Christ, oh God why, I’m in so much pain.” Tony Stark yelps, hopping on one foot in the dark hallway and trying not to spill his half-empty coffee cup. He’s by Thor’s rooms, so he’s pretty fucking sure what he just broke his foot on, but he has Jarvis turn the lights to half anyway.
And yep, there’s Mjolnir, hammer of Thor, on the floor in the middle of the damn hallway, perfectly fine despite the fact that it just broke Tony’s foot. He takes a resigned gulp of coffee and huffs dejectedly as the pain spreads.
“Yep, this is it, I’m a goner, tell Pepper I’m sorry about that one time where I did that thing,” Tony tells the ceiling, looking down at the dark, reddish-black splotch of bruise that’s darkening the top of his foot already “in my defense, it was hilarious at the time and still is.”
“I’ll be sure to pass the message on to Ms. Potts, sir, but in the meantime perhaps you’d like me to wake someone?” Jarvis’ calm, quiet voice cuts through the mild upset his potentially broken foot had inspired. “Nah, s’it’s fine, it’s probably not even that broken.” He puts a little pressure on his foot and blows an angry raspberry when the burning, rippy pain in his foot flares up.
“Your foot is very likely broken and you may require medical assistance. Might I suggest Captain Rogers or Dr. Banner? Or an actual doctor” Jarvis offers and Tony takes a few hobbling step in the direction of his room, ‘cause it’s closer than his lab and the thought of hobbling all the way there kind of makes him want to cry. Just a little.
“Nope, no, don’t wake anyone, nosiree bob, definitely don’t do either of those things. And don’t think I didn’t notice that sass mister” He grumbles as he limps to the kitchen. The pointed silence that falls speaks for itself and Tony keeps all the pained sounds he wants to make quiet so Jarvis can’t gloat.
He sets his World’s Best Mechanic mug that Pepper had gotten him for his 31st birthday down and flops into a chair, taking a break from his death hop. He throws an arm over his eyes and groans dramatically, peeping past his arm so he can get a look at his foot. It’s pretty ugly, already a mottled shade of purply-black that doesn’t promise a swift recovery and instead promises a brace at the very fucking least or, Pepper forbid, a cast because he’s pretty sure something is broken.
“God-damnit Odinson, if I have to wear a boot because of you-”
“Am I to assume you have a reason for cursing my name, Man of Iron?” Thor’s vaguely amused, oddly regal voice comes from the hallway as he steps into the kitchen. Tony really doesn’t think it’s fair that he can sound kingly in pajama bottoms that have his own face on them and nothing else.
“Damn right you are, Mr. ‘I leave my mega-hammer in the middle of the freakin’ hallway’ at night. In the dark.” Tony snaps, poking the worst of it with his index finger to gauge the pain. His eyes sting and Thor’s eyebrows lower as he strides calmly into the kitchen and takes a knee.
Literally takes a fucking knee to get a better look at Tony’s poor, abused foot.
“Mjolnir did this?” Thor asks gravely, cupping Tony’s foot and rotating it gently. He tightens his hold gently when Tony’s leg jerks and barely avoids getting kicked in the face. Tony’s a little disappointed by that. Not that he wants to kick his team-mate in the face or anything.
Definitely not. That would be bad. Like kicking a puppy.
His foot looks freakishly small in Thor’s big hands and he resists the urge to jerk his foot away and hobble to freedom. He probably wouldn’t get very far anyway. “No, I did this. On Mjolnir. Which you left in the freakin’ hall.” Tony grits out, getting to his feet and sneakily hopping away when Thor rises, a smooth, graceful motion for someone who’s so damn big, to get a bag of peas out of the freezer.
Tony’s barely made it out of the kitchen when Thor snags him carefully by the waist and carries him back into the kitchen. “What the hell, your arms are like steel,” Tony grunts, slapping Thor’s incredibly muscled arm. The sound is crisp and Tony’s oddly pleased with himself even though his head spins when he’s lifted off the ground and he feels nauseous.
“I bet if you close-lined someone they’d probably die.” Thor sits him back down and lays the towel wrapped bag of peas carefully on top of Tony’s foot. Thor is torn between amusement and concern and gives a simple “I have tested that theory and it rings true, but thank you” as he lowers Tony’ foot gently to ground so the peas don’t slip off.
He looks truly sorry when Tony sucks in a pained hiss and Tony kind of feels like a jerk even though it’s his foot that’s broken. The peas feel nice though.
“Look, big guy, it’s fine, you didn’t mean to, yadda yadda, thanks for the peas, which hey, I didn’t even know we had, but I’m tired, my foot hurts, give me a couple Tylenol and I’ll sleep it off.” He tries wriggling his toes a little and regrets it. Regrets it deeply.
“Sir Jarvis, if you would wake the one who is happy and inform him that Anthony must be taken to a healer, I would be grateful.” Thor rumbles, completely ignoring Tony, who pouts just the littlest bit at his peas.
“You’re just eating that up aren’t you, you good for nothing suck-up. I thought I programmed you better.” He grumbles at Jarvis who he replies with a crisp “Happy is awake and on his way. He’ll arrive in 20 minutes.” ignoring Tony completely. Tony gives the ceiling a “why me lord” look and whines out a low “nooo” as he considers making a break for it. Maybe tell Thor he has to pee and then crawl into some distant corner and sleep till tomorrow. Yeah, that sounds awesome, that’s definitely what he’s gonna do.
He’s so lost in his scheming that he fails to notice that Thor is watching him with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. If he were paying attention to the apologetic Norse God in his kitchen, he would have noticed the intense the look on Thor’s face, because a glaring Thor is just, well it’s just terrifying and hard to ignore.
Tony considers the vents before crossing that off, ya know, due to the archer that pretty much lives in them, the Widow’s green house (except he doesn’t have a death wish quite that big), the training rooms cooling system, the laundry hamper, the fridge and under the desk in Bruce’s lab or maybe in Pepper’s closet--
“I believe it to be a simple fracture, but such a wound can be crippling if not properly cared for. You will see one of your healers if I must carry you there myself, if you should attempt to flee I shall wake our comrades in arms and we will you find you wherever you may hide.” Thor says, voice dangerously quiet, stubbled jaw set as he towers tall and regal in the middle of Tony’s kitchen.
Tony blinks owlishly and says matter-of-factly “Wow, so I have a boner.”
“Same.” Barton says deadpan from his spot perched on top of the fridge, wearing Hulk boxers and a ratty t-shirt. “It would be a most impressive feat.” Thor agrees amicably, mouth still set in a displeased frown even though his eyes are warm with amusement as he watches Tony closely.
Tony bites out a “motherfucker” and clutches at his heart like a startled old lady. “Damn it Barton, why.” He gripes, glaring at the smug man crouched on his fridge. “Can’t help myself Stark, you just look so damn cute when you’re startled.” Tony tips his nose up and replies snootily “You’re damn right I do.”
Tony bats his eyelashes at Hawkeye when he hops jauntily down from the fridge and drains the last of his luke-warm coffee.
“So, this is happening?” Tony asks with a little more black despair peppering his tone than he’d like. “This is happening. X-rays and foot boots all around. Well, just for you Stark.” Clint affirms, lifting Tony’s peas and taking a good look at his foot. He whistles lowly and Tony kicks him half-heartedly in the shin.
Barton casually plops the peas back onto Tony’s foot. Tony retaliates for the sudden flare of pain amidst the steady throb of hurt by trying to kick Barton again. He dodges it casually “Definitely a fracture, pretty sure it’s not broken, he’ll live.” Thor doesn’t look any less tense, but he favors Clint with a small smile and a friendly clap on the shoulder. “Thank you friend, might I ask you to watch Anthony while I clothe myself?”
“I’m a grown ass man, I don’t need a sitter.” Tony says belligerently, crossing his arms and trying to look less tired and in pain than he actually is. “Bullshit Stark, that’s why you need a fucking sitter, go for it, I’ll make sure he doesn’t wander off to die.” Thor’s lips twitch and he nods at Barton before leaving.
“Eat a dick Barton. Eat a dick.” Tony says somberly, shaking his head. “Nah, already had my midnight snack.” Barton smirks back. Tony sucks in an offended gasp “Excuse you, my dick, while not huge, is sizable and at the very least a midnight meal for two. How very dare you, you circus heathen. ”
Barton’s still laughing when Thor comes back, in worn jeans with holes in the knees and a shirt that makes him look like a lumberjack. Tony can’t help but grin and shake his head at the lumberjack-hipster standing tall and proud before him. “Looking good big guy.” Thor shakes back his mane of golden-blond hair, ignoring the obvious jab, and tightens Mjolnir’s strap through his belt loop.
“Lady Darcy picked these for me.” Thor says calmly and leaves it at that. “Lady Darcy has excellent tastes.” Tony replies good-naturedly. “You got him?” Clint asks, arching an eyebrow at Thor.
“I believe so; Anthony’s Happy should arrive shortly. You should rest, for who knows what tomorrow shall bring and the Man of Iron is downed.”
“What come on, downed? It’s not even that bad.” Tony protests, hauling himself up and gimping a step forward when he overbalances. “Couple of vicodin, a few ace bandages, I’ll be right as rain.” The disbelieving look on Barton’s face is almost insulting but his mouth is pinched with pain and the urge to lay down on the cool kitchen tile and go to sleep is almost overwhelming. Thor gives him a quelling look and Tony, ever the pacifist, acquiesces with grace.
“Fine, you guys win,” Tony says, hands up in a placating gesture “but,” Thor’s eyes narrow and Clint raises a threatening eyebrow “but, I have to pee and someone needs to get the suitcase suit out of the workshop.” Thor relaxes and Clint watches Tony’s placid face with blatant distrust.
“Come on man, you really gonna deny me the right to take a leak?” When Clint just looks even more suspicious Tony throws his hands up and says in exasperation “You can watch for all I care, doesn’t change the fact that I have to pee.”
“He is aware of the consequences, if he should try to avoid going to a healer I will wake the good Captain and leave him to his fate.” Tony grimaces and gives Thor a ruefully respectful look “You’re a cruel man Odinson. ‘Sides, I’m not going anywhere on this foot, so, Clint dearest, if you would get the suit from the workshop, we could get this show on the road.”
The bitchface he receives is extensive. “J, you know what to do.” Tony drawls at Barton’s back. “Here comes the fun part.” He grunts as he takes a jerky step towards the bathroom. Thor scoffs and steps forward to steady him “I will carry you, as this is painful to watch.” He eyes Thor for a rebellious four seconds before caving and letting (pfft) himself be carried to the bathroom.
“Thanks buddy, think I got it from here.” Thor opens the door quietly and pointedly sets Tony down right by the toilet before closing the door behind him. He hears Jarvis through the door and Thor’s fading strides down the hallway “Happy has arrived sir, he’s waiting in carport C6, however, might I suggest shoes for this outing?” He hears Thor’s amused huff and agreement before they get too far away.
He does what he came to do and then cuts through the other side of the double-door bathroom to make a quick hop for Pepper’s rooms. They’re farther away than he remembers them being, even though they’re adjacent to his, and by the time he makes it to the blissfully cool rooms, he’s sweaty and in enough pain that it’s considerable.
The dark of the room has him close to conking out before he can crawl into the bottom of Pep’s closet, amidst the expensive shoes and one of Pepper’s various chocolate stashes.
Pretty much everyone except Natasha and Thor are afraid of Pepper, and rightly so, but no one’s dumb enough to wake the Widow and Thor holds Pepper in very high esteem and wouldn’t dare to go snooping through her closet, so Tony guestimates he’s got a couple of hours before anyone finds him, at the least.
“Jarvis? Mums the word. Not a peep out of you.” Tony’s pretty sure he gets a sigh in response and is properly aggrieved. “Did you just sigh at me, young man.”
“Of course not sir, that would be rude. Like leaving the people who have your best interest and good health in mind to search you out so that you may receive medical aid.” The sass is palatable and Tony is incredibly proud. “Little baby’s all grown up.” He mutters, wiping a tear from his eye as he snags a spare pillow out its cubby. There’s another sigh and then “If asked, may I tell them something sir?”
Tony grins sleepily into the pillow and mutters out something he won’t remember later as he wriggles into a comfortable position on his bed of shoes.
Foot propped up so it’s not touching anything; he curls in on himself, tugs down one of Pepper’s coats for a make-shift blanket and does his best to sleep as much as he can until they find him.
“His words were, and I quote, “I don’t deserve no better than living with the shoes.” Jarvis reports dryly to the assembly of pajama’d avengers. Thor and Steve look confused.
“Yeah, he’s hiding in someone’s closet.” Clint snorts, a hip cocked irritably as he drags a hand down his face.
“How in the heck do you know that?” Steve asks, eyebrows knit, hair ruffled from sleep and the hasty hand he’s shoved through it when Barton and Thor had knocked on his door. He looks at Clint with bemusement.
“TV reference,” Clint says briskly, thoroughly irritated with Stark, he’d just wanted a snack, damn it “he can’t have gotten very far, not on that foot. If we split up, we should get him.” Steve still looks confused, but he accepts it. They both look to Steve for orders and it takes him a second to realize.
“Right, sorry,” Steve says a little sheepishly “Thor, check your closet and all the ones in the west wing, Barton east wing; try not to wake the Widow.”
Clint snorts quietly “I’m not that suicidal Cap.” and lopes off, footsteps silent. “I’ll take the other two, let’s find him quick before he hurts himself more.” Steve finishes, quietly exasperated with his team mate. Hunting down Tony Stark at 1 in the morning is the last thing he wants to be doing, but it’s apparently what he’s going to be doing. Thor gives a grimly amused nod and leaves with his usual amount presence.
Steve wipes a hand over his mouth and gives the ceiling the same “why me lord” look and starts the search for Tony.
They find him, two hours and 23 minutes later, curled up in the bottom of Pepper’s closet, blinking sleepily, and smugly, up at a pissed off Hawkeye.
And that’s how Tony winds up in his Dr.’s office at 3 in the morning, in the arms of a Norse God who just so happens to look like the king of hipsters, flanked by a deadly archer and a super soldier, both in their jammies. It’s a testament to how weird Dr. Marlow’s life is that this isn’t the weirdest thing she’s ever had happen since she’d taken on Tony Stark as a patient.