Chapter Text
The clear summer days were long lost, slowly swallowed by the voracious belly of winter. The sky looked like some kind of cottony concrete that the sun itself seemed unable to pierce, its illuminated maces only rarely breaking through it. The cold was biting the air and the air bit you right back. It was spitting its white, frozen poison into the face of the living, gradually dismantling the heating system built into the muscles of men.
Tony was feeling himself losing his most cherished nerve connections one by one through his whole body, particularly below his ankles and disturbingly under his waistband, as well as the last three inches of each of his fingers yet ingeniously wrapped in - oh, mittens. Right. Tony hated himself enough right now, but the mittens truly had to be the last straw.
His muscles frozen with cold and his fingers ready to fall down at the first opportunity, he decided that enough was enough and that he had to get out of the vicious linear rink that were the sidewalks of the city if he wanted to preserve the major parts of his anatomy and his brain capacities. His breath crystallizing as soon as it escaped him, Tony rubbed frantically his hands together while narrowing his eyes.
Through the white rain and the already gloomy late afternoon, he could make out a few barely human figures, wrapped in several layers of clothing, crowding the streets as well as the rare pairs of shining eyes of the brave automobiles which rolled slower than slowly on the blanket of ice that hid the tar of the roads.
Two little girls dressed in white and pink ran past Tony, laughing, the pompoms of their beanies and gloves bouncing in the wind. He winced.
"Cotton swabs," he muttered, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his snowflake-strewn coat.
He walked a few more dozen yards down a street he probably would never have discovered normally. But then again, under normal circumstances, he would never have stuck his nose - and everything else - out in the cold. It was the sound of laughter, drowned in muffled music, that attracted Tony first, and soon the delicious smell of hot coffee. A green neon sat enthroned above a terrace. Asgard. What, like the realm of the Nordic gods? Tony bit back a laugh.
"That's my luck."
Perhaps by being sympathetic enough, he could pray to the gods of the cold and the north to "pretty please, stop pissing ice cubes on the city"? Sniffling, he didn't even hesitate for a second before picking up his pace to join, he hoped, the warmth of a bar to which he was going to offer all his money for the entire stock of coffee. He just couldn't wait to get his ass warm.
Three laughing men stood at the entrance, each armed with a huge pint of beer, and given their flushed cheeks and questionable poise, it certainly wasn't the first round of their day. When Tony stepped onto an slippy patch of ice and one of the imbeciles swung his arm in the air, Tony almost ended up on the ground, bending down to avoid catching that enormous arm in the face. He barely caught himself on the doorknob, swearing, and believing that he had avoided the worst, he wanted to stand up properly. But leaning on the handle made it suddenly open.
That was how he landed - freaking finally - his ass in a warmth place. Well, not really, 'cause here he was, sprawled on the dirty slushy snow-soaked floor of the entrance of a bar crowded with eyes that were all - without exception, yep - riveted on him. Great. Way to make an entrance, buddy.
The silence that followed seemed endless.
Still on the floor, Tony held up a hand, escaping a slight nervous laugh. "Don't mind me, I'll… I'll stay here. A little while," he sighed. "I love this floor. Very clean. Yeah."
A wave of laughter arose and the strongest of them all approached him. Tony looked up to see a gigantic hand stretched out towards him and smiled at it before facing a mountain of muscles and long blonde hair.
“Welcome to Asgard, my friend!" Point Break greeted him loudly, giving him a friendly pat on the back that blew all the air out of Tony's lungs. "This was a crashing arrival, are you sure you haven't broken anything in there?"
"My ego is bruised, fore sure," Tony whispered, rubbing his wrist. "But I survived, I will survive," he smiled, wiping his mittens on the front of his coat.
"HE SURVIVED!" the blonde roared happily, waving his fist in the air and the whole room cried out in victory as they mimicked him. "AND HE WILL SURVIVE! "
Tony winced as they screamed again, and Prince Charming put his heavy hand on his shoulder this time.
"My name is Thor! What's your name, little man? "
What parallel dimension had he fallen into? Thor, seriously? The picture only missed thunder and some sharp weapons.
“Um, Tony."
"Welcome, Tony," Thor repeated warmly, grabbing the rag that was hanging over his shoulder, "please go sit down and choose any beverage. The house offers it to you!"
Tony feeling relatively tiny next to him gave him a vague gesture of thanks and found himself smiling. The air in the room was filled with human warmth, the scent of alcohol and sugar was thick, but sweat and humidity was also dancing around, creating a very special and intoxicating atmosphere that quickly went to Tony's head.
A biker with a braided beard slammed the door behind them and Tony savored the warm, vibrant air in the room that curled into his lungs.
A little bewildered by the deafening cries and laughter of all the customers, he made his way to the bar, between huge bodies and deep voices. The bar was rather small, the tables too, the number of chairs clearly limited. People stood, talked, laughed a lot more than anywhere Tony has ever been to. There was no room anywhere and yet… it was as if the rest of the world could come and stay there without a problem.
When he reached the counter, seven-foot monsters with fists as big as his head were standing there blocking his way. They stepped aside, miraculously noticing him, and patted him friendly on the back, taunting him about his arrival. One of them yelled to the bartender to take care of the new kid - jeez, he was forty-eight, for Odin's sake - and they all disappeared with a laugh that ran across the room.
After thanking them, Tony climbed into one of the high seats they had just vacated and leaned on the bar, sighing in his hands. How long was this day, really? He was going to drink a pint of caffeine and go home.
“They asked me to watch over you. Considering your remarkably miserable condition, I am afraid I will not be successful and fail before I even start."
The voice was sweet, like a strange secret lost in the surrounding cacophony. The tone was sharp. Tony dropped his hands and looked up at the man standing across from him, behind the counter, his chin perched on the palm of his hand. A smirk was stretching on his thin lips, carving a delicate dimple. His large green eyes, piercing and intelligent, sparkled with mischief. In one look, Tony was convinced the man had uncovered all of his innermost secrets. Also, long, night-black curls framed his delicate, almost angelic face, divinely contrasting with his fair skin. Tony hesitated for a second: did he look more like a voodoo or a porcelain doll? Obviously, his beauty was not human.
"Nice way to welcome a client," Tony replied, forcing himself to look away, trying to remove his damn mittens.
"I was not welcoming you. You broke your ass on my floor without anyone's help. Quite spectacularly, might I say. What a man you are," he breathed, not batting an eye.
The appallingly calm sarcasm in his voice was obviously from birth. Charming. Tony tried to suppress his smile, frowning, and couldn't help but lean in and mimic his host's position.
"Speaking of men, aren't you the one supposed to serve me? The customer is getting impatient," Tony said, whispering the last words.
"Oh, aren't you the cleaning boy?" the other said, stepping back, a playful sparkle in his emerald irises. "You were such a beautiful mop a few minutes ago."
This time, Tony didn’t hide his smile and watched with unrestrained interest the elegant creature who ran the bar. You could have stepped on me, I would have thanked you, Tony thought, letting himself be bewitched by the barman's vicious smile.
The man was imbued with delicate body language, each movement reaching its precise goal without any fail, like a dance between alcohol and glasses. His remarks were tinged with humor but his words were imperious to anyone who disrespected him, his smile becoming as sharp and cruel as the face of the most dangerous of assassins. Something intense was emanating from him, an arrogant energy, a cheeky shadow. He was unmissable, it was just impossible not to feel naturally drawn to him, and yet Tony remembered that he hadn't noticed him until he spoke to him. He was invisible before you met him, but after that it was inconceivable to look away.
While serving everyone except Tony, Snow White was repeatedly called out as Loki. Tony studied him more carefully and saw that Thor, the blond knight, was bringing beers throughout the room. They both worked here, certainly even owned the bar, and the smiles and faces they exchanged were more than camaraderie and had nothing to do with flirting. Tony assumed they were brothers then, and the irony made him smile. The two men were clearly the opposite of each other; Thor obviously only knew how to be distracted, loud and sickly jovial while Loki seemed focused, measured and of Olympian calm.
They were both tall and proud, holding their heads up, and speaking like no one spoke today. They were beautiful, each in their own way. Day and night, and Tony turned to Loki again. His attraction to twilight and shadows kicked in at that exact moment. Just a look, and Tony would be satisfied, even if he had nothing to drink. A look from Loki.
That was the only reason why he sat for about an hour in his seat, waiting for the bartender to deign to give him his attention. Tony had taken off his coat, his fingers dancing impatiently on the counter. The three happy fools who had stood outside when he arrived had returned to get another round and pulled Tony into their mirth, asking Loki to serve him as well. Tony turned to him, his eyes shining, and Loki casually leaned in front of him again.
"You are still here?" he wondered falsely before stretching his neck to look behind Tony. "My floor isn't clean yet," he lamented.
"Your friends here want to buy me a drink," Tony replied with a smirk. "Are you going to upset them?"
Loki leaned down and then smiled with all his teeth, purring: "Watch me."
"Oh, believe me, that's what I do."
Loki's smile faded away but mischief still slept on his features and Tony felt his heart stir when the corners of the man's lips quivered for a second. And Loki looked at him. He was looking at him. Then, Tony listened to him persuade the three drunken giants that it was time for them to stop drinking and go home. Thor could even bring them back if they didn't feel like walking back. They whined for long minutes, trying to negotiate with him like undisciplined children to their father, and soon the bartender's bossy tone became adamant and they dropped their empty glasses on the counter and backed away. Head low, they left the bar to return home without making anymore of a fuss. Tony couldn't help but laugh and rested his head in both hands, staring at the tall dark and gorgeous creature, who was already busy cleaning the abandoned glasses.
"You can stop, you know?" Loki said, not even looking up.
"Watching you? Oh okay. Tell me when I can start again."
Tony didn't move an inch, however, and stared at him without embarrassment. A new kind of smile appeared on the bartender's lips before the he pulled away from the glasses and his rag, slowly approaching his dissatisfied-yet-satisfied customer. Tony felt the tension between them heat up and he blessed this moment more fiercely than any other moment in his entire life.
"Alright, you have my attention," Loki purred, glancing briefly at his lips. "What do you want?"
"Your attention, yep. That's all I want."
"Mmh, and you definitely know how to make an impression."
"And what impression do I make on you?" Tony smiles, straightening up proudly.
"You have had such a horrible day that you sat for an entire hour in a bar aimlessly, not approaching anyone or showing any sign of wanting to leave. You justify yourself by throwing this on my back, just because you find me outrageously, scandalously attractive."
Loki paused for a moment to smile wickedly, his eyes staring into Tony's. He continued. "I'm the prettiest thing you have ever seen…" he whispered. "And I don't want to be a thing. I'm not."
It was like getting a slap in the face. The teasing was gone, but the sharp, cruel tone was evident. Loki walked away again, this time to never return.
Once he recovered from the shock, Tony got out of his seat, without a coffee, without a friend, feeling colder than when he had been outside, and put on his things, cursing himself for being so stupid. The bartender was definitely an enigma, and Tony hadn't gotten any key to decipher it. Still, he was pretty sure the man had liked him at first. Humor? Check. Sarcasm ? Double check. The smiles? Certainly. Forward flirting? My god, that shit hadn't worked out. Big fucking no.
As he walked through the ever-crowded room, Tony felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, holding him in place, and he immediately recognized the mess of blonde hair that leaned over to say in a deep voice: "My brother tends to alienate anyone who is interested in him. Come back tomorrow night. There's a match transmission upstairs, I'll be there to take care of everyone. Loki is running the bar here, it will be quiet downstairs. Come back, to really meet him."
The giant winked at him and left to go back to his beers. Tony stood there for a moment, then glanced at Loki in the distance. He could only make out his dark hair behind the customers, a glimpse of a smile between two faces. Everyone at the counter cheered as Loki drunk three shots filled with a liquid as green and fiery as his eyes. Tony put his hand on his neck, smiled sadly then stepped out the door and disappeared into the winter, certain he would never come back here.