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Tuesday
Tony is not technically a superstitious man. It comes from years of math and science courses. It comes from always knowing the odds, knowing that sometimes a coincidence is just that. It comes from working damn hard, even when the odds are against him, to get out of things alive. It comes from knowing that over the course of billions of years and billions of light years, particles randomly knocking together with results that are impossible to either study or predict, can somehow cause him to be hanging out with a thousand-and-something-year-old only-technically-not-a-god alien with magical weather powers who is discussing combat-proof hair-braiding with an ex-Russian ex-assassin and the love of Tony’s life. No luck, fate, or divine intervention required. (Tony tries not to admit to himself that the most improbable part of that equation is still that he has a love of his life.)
Despite all of this, though, Tony’s feels like his life has had enough high stakes drama that he’s stopped pointlessly giving fate the finger. It might technically always be a random coincidence, but sometimes it still feels like the universe likes dramatic irony far too much. He’s not going to tempt fate. Even if he doesn’t really believe in fate.
That’s why it’s so strange to him when Thor, hundreds of years older and one of the central players in a real, actual religion, doesn’t seem to have that same view.
‘I have told Steve,’ he says to Tony as he’s leaving to go back to his rooms, ‘but I thought I should tell you also. Jane and I plan to institute the ritual of ‘Date Night’.’ As always, Thor sounds like someone’s severely uncool father trying to be hip when he uses any slang invented since the Civil War.
‘Yeah?’ says Tony, raising an eyebrow, wondering why he’s supposed to be interested.
‘On a Thursday,’ adds Thor. ‘Jane thought it appropriate.’ He grins to himself. Tony resists rolling his eyes. ‘I mention it merely because I hope you will try to resist summoning me for assistance on Thursdays, if it is at all possible.’
‘Firstly, I don’t plan when Hydra wants to launch mortars at school children,’ says Tony. ‘Secondly, you’ve just ensured every single attack we face for the rest of forever is going to be on a Thursday.’
‘Tony,’ says Pepper, ‘I’m sure it won’t be that bad.’
Tony raises an eyebrow. They gave up on their own official date night for exactly this reason. Now they just snatch time whenever they can. It works out OK, given everything, but only just.
‘It definitely will,’ he says. ‘Jarvis, schedule armour checks and charging every Wednesday afternoon.’
‘As you wish, Sir,’ says Jarvis.
‘Ignore him,’ Pepper says to Thor. ‘It’ll be fine.’
‘Sure it will,’ says Romanoff. ‘Now excuse me, I’m going to go and tell Clint he needs to oil his bow every Wednesday.’
‘See!’ says Tony.
Thor shrugs, unworried, and makes for the door. After he leaves, Tony turns back to Pepper.
‘You really shouldn’t let him keep his delusions, you know. He’ll only be disappointed in the end.’
To his surprise, Pepper smiles. It’s a clever and slightly evil little smile. Tony loves it.
‘Yes, well now...’ she says, getting to her feet and reaching forward to take his hand. ‘Now we know not to schedule our own dates on a Thursday.’
‘Ms Potts!’ Tony says, trying to sound shocked and mostly just sounding impressed. He likes Thor and Jane and wishes them well in their sex-having, but he’d throw them both into a volcano for one of Pepper’s smiles. ‘That’s positively supervillain-esque.’
She smirks and tugs at his collar. He goes at her direction.
~*~
The next morning he lets various appropriate people know when the next attack will be coming. It’s only polite. He receives a phone call from Rhodey almost straight after.
‘Why have you sent me a recurring calendar invite titled Jane and Thor are getting busy?’ demands Rhodey.
‘So you know when we’ll need the Iron Patriot,’ says Tony. ‘If Thor’s planning on having sex, we are definitely getting attacked by the worst the universe can throw at us.’
‘Yeah, fine, not questioning the logic,’ says Rhodey, ‘although also not saving you if Thor throws you off your tower when he realises you’ve done this. But I have people all across the Pentagon looking at my calendar, including the Joint Chiefs and the Secretary of Defense. I’m not accepting a meeting with that title.’
‘Whatever,’ says Tony. ‘Just make sure you’re charged up on Thursdays. And don’t make any plans. I might need you.’
Rhodey grumbles but, like Tony, he knows that the universe hates fun, so he promises to do just that.
The First Thursday
Two days later, some sort of mutant hellbeast is terrorizing Houston. Tony accepts twenty bucks from Bruce without even gloating too much.
‘That’s not how the universe actually works,’ grumbles Bruce as he hands it over. ‘There’s no higher power trying to stop Thor from going on dates.’
Tony grins. ‘There doesn’t have to be a higher power,’ he says. ‘The universe just isn’t that kind.’
Thor is the last person on the Quinjet, hair looking a bit rumpled. He’s half wearing his civvies, which today means a red shirt over his leather pants. Since he can summon his armour out of literally nowhere (violating all sensible laws of physics that Tony can think of and somehow not bothering anyone else), this isn’t that surprising.
‘Oh, sorry, did we time this inconveniently?’ asks Tony sarcastically as they take off at last.
Thor shrugs, unconcerned. ‘A little,’ he says. ‘It was a somewhat frustrating moment to have to leave. We were just coming up to the climax.’
A sarcastic reply combined with a laugh meld together to become a cough in Tony’s throat. Rhodey claps him on the back. Once he’s upright again he looks to Rhodey for guidance because he’s not he really heard what he thinks he just heard. Rhodey gives him a shrug.
At that point Rogers wanders up. ‘How was the movie?’ he says to Thor.
Thor grins, and Tony thinks he catches a bit of a smirk directed in his direction. He’s not surprised. Thor is an asshole sometimes. ‘It was most enjoyable, although we did not get to the end,’ he says, ‘so please do not spoil it for me.’
‘What… were you watching?’ asks Rhodey dubiously. He sounds like he’s not sure what to do with this discussion.
‘Jurassic Park,’ says Thor cheerfully. ‘The animatronics were mostly cleverly done considering the technology available. And the enduring message-- that of the survivability and unpredictability of life--felt very true.’
‘What is this, Media Studies 101?’ grumbles Clint Barton from where he’s piloting the Quinjet.
‘I always thought the message of Jurassic Park was that barbed wire - even electric - wasn’t strong enough to keep in dinosaurs,’ said Tony. ‘Or that you shouldn’t have an easily sabotaged security system if you’re working in cutting edge science.’
Thor sighs. ‘You are why one in four intelligent species are destroyed by biological creations of their own design before they can discover interstellar travel,’ he says.
‘Er, I just said I’d use a better fence than that movie,’ says Tony. ‘I’m not stupid.’
‘I had a research paper about the causes of demise in intelligent species translated into English for Jane,’ says Thor. ‘I can provide you with a copy if you would like?’
‘Sounds like light reading,’ says Romanoff. ‘I assume you’re saving discussion of that for another date night?’
‘And I wouldn’t worry,’ said Rhodey. ‘Tony’s not going to make a Jurassic Park. At least not without some help. Right, Tony? Remember bio in freshman year?’ He’s smirking.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ says Tony. ‘I did fine in that class.’
Rhodey coughs in a way that sounds suspiciously like ‘B plus’.
‘It was an A minus,’ objects Tony. It was his only A minus. It had also been over twenty five years so he’s pretty sure it’s time for Rhodey to let go. Besides, if he really wants to create dinosaurs he knows enough biologists, geneticists, and other life-science consultants. Plus he’s pretty confident he’d be able to get Bruce to help, after all.
‘Speaking of horrendous biological creations,’ called Barton from the cockpit. ‘According the radio, the thing we’re going to stop has just eaten the heads of Abraham Lincoln and Woodrow Wilson at a sculpture park.’
‘So it’s anti-American as well?’ said Tony. ‘Good thing we’ve got Rogers to give it a good talking to.’
For some reason Steve doesn’t seem to think he’s particularly funny.
The Second Thursday
The following Thursday, Tony and Rhodey are sitting around in their (freshly polished, freshly charged) suits playing poker. Pepper had said she thought that wearing the suits was going a bit far.
When the alert comes through (Hydra strike forces targeting a German military base, presumably for old times’ sake), he and Rhodey make a leisurely way down to the Quinjet. He even has enough time to text Pepper and tell her he was right before the others start to arrive.
‘Thor’s messaged saying he’s gonna be late,’ says Steve, still pulling on his official spangly top over a plain t shirt as he arrives, looking harried.
‘I’ll bet he is,’ mutters Romanoff as she tests her Widow Bites and checks through her impressively vast array of weapons. Tony’s still not sure where she puts them all given how tight her suit is. He’s a bit afraid to ask.
‘He says to start without him and he’ll catch up,’ continues Steve, apparently oblivious to Tony catching Rhodey’s eye. They roll their eyes. Tony supposes on the plus side, Thor and Jane’s date night has made his own life very predictable.
~*~
Thor catches up with them about twenty minutes later. They find out via a knock on the back of the jet. Romanoff checks one of the security cameras, and there is Thor, cape and hair streaming in the wind. He waves at the camera.
‘Did he just… knock?’ says Bruce. ‘Like a door.’
‘It basically is a door,’ says Romanoff, which would almost be reasonable if Thor weren’t such an intolerable show-off. She opens the back and Thor flies in.
Now up-close and in the light of the jet, it’s clear he’s already been through the wars that day. There’s black dust - ash - smeared in his hair and on his face, and down his collar drips a thick, black liquid.
‘What the hell?’ says Steve.
‘Do we even want to know what sort of kinky shit you guys were up to?’ demands Tony.
Thor laughs. ‘Go-karting,’ he says.
Tony sighs. ‘Do you two ever do anything that isn’t the kind of date high school sophomores go on?’
‘Weren’t you about eleven when you were a high school sophomore?’ says Bruce.
Tony, whose first date hadn’t been until he was in college precisely because of the fact that he was a genius and thus several grades ahead of all of his peers, chooses to ignore that.
‘I’ve been go-karting,’ says Clint, ‘and I’ve never come out of it looking like that.’
‘The reason for that is a most interesting tale,’ says Thor. ‘It begins with electric go-karts and Jane wondering whether lightning might increase their charge as it does with the iron suits. It ends with my lady speeding past me, beating me to the finish line, then returning to laugh at me. The middle of the tale is perhaps the most dramatic, for it contains fire, a rolling go-kart, a destroyed wall, and that the answer to Jane’s question is no, lightning should not be involved in such pastimes.’ He grins. ‘No one was injured,’ he says. ‘Except perhaps my belief that my beloved Jane always has my best interests at heart and would rush to my side were I in any danger.’
Later, back at the tower, with everyone safe, Tony finds Jane still awake and in the lab. She’s wearing a cheap, shiny, plastic medal around her neck on a red ribbon.
‘Really?’ he says. ‘Your idea of date night is injuring your boyfriend and then beating out a bunch of twelve year olds for a ten cent piece of plastic?’
Jane sniffs. ‘He wasn’t injured,’ she says. ‘He’s basically indestructible. I just wanted him to short the circuit so I could get a lead. Not my fault he put way too much power into it.’
‘Still, at least you beat the twelve year olds,’ says Tony.
She grins and then her eyes flick behind him. Tony half-turns and isn’t surprised to find Thor has somehow crept up behind him and is lurking in the doorway.
‘I should have known better than to trust you near moving vehicles,’ Thor says, but he doesn’t look annoyed.
‘Hi!’ says Jane, her face splitting into a disgustingly huge smile. ‘How did it go? Are you OK? Is everyone OK? Come and see what I found in this data while you were gone!’
Tony sighs and leaves them to go to his own private lab. It’s still date night, after all. He’s pretty sure looking at data is foreplay for Jane Foster, but that’s a suspicion he most definitely doesn’t want to see further confirmed.
The Third Thursday
The next Thursday, Steve and his friend Sam Wilson join Tony and Rhodey in their waiting. Steve looks a little embarrassed, especially when Tony claps him on the shoulder and says he knew Steve wasn’t completely stupid. Sam Wilson has brought his brand new wings, just in case. Tony resists the urge to fiddle with them, knowing they need to be ready for whatever inevitable attack comes.
Steve, Sam and Rhodey make chit-chat filled with military anecdotes. Tony, who feels like his only contribution to that could be asking if they liked Stark weapons, instead climbs a few levels higher at Candy Crush.
It takes a long time for anything to happen. Long enough that Tony can see Steve start to fidget, clearly wondering if he got all American-flagged up for nothing. The universe is not that kind to Thor, though, and when the alert comes through it’s some sort of robot drone army in Singapore.
‘Maybe we should get some drones to make life easier,’ he suggests to Rhodey once they’re all on the Quinjet. Except Thor, of course. Thor will be late. Again.
‘Didn’t Justin Hammer teach you that was a bad idea?’ says Romanoff, who’s listening in as she checks her guns again.
‘Justin Hammer taught me not to be Justin Hammer,’ replies Tony. ‘I wasn’t going to spring a Russian terrorist from jail. I was going to build my own and hook them up the Jarvis. Simple, and secure. No weapons. Just to help evacuate the populace.’
‘Why do I feel like an uncomfortable conversation with at least one government agency lies directly in my future?’ says Rhodey. Tony grins and pats him on the arm. The iron suits clank at the contact.
Thor eventually arrives, this time not covered in oil and bits of wall.
‘So just plain old vanilla sex this time?’ guesses Tony.
Thor maintains a look of polite but clearly fake confusion. Instead he extracts some cards from an unexpected pocket in his pants--which by rights are too tight for any sort of pocket to be useful--and tosses them onto the table.
Tony, Rhodey and the others lean over to inspect them. They describe a bunch of magic spells with gratuitous mentions of wizardry. If it weren’t for the mention of ‘hp’ and the nineties-style illustrations, Tony would have half suspected them of being Asgardian.
‘What?’ says Steve.
‘Some sort of trading card game?’ guesses Sam. ‘I don’t know. My sister was into this stuff but I never got involved.’
‘Have you been playing…? Oh, right, Jane Foster, of course you have,’ says Bruce. ‘That’s a nerdy date even by my standards.’
Grinning, Thor stacks up his cards and begins to idly inspect them. ‘Jane has friends who play these games and board games. We attended an evening where many people gathered to drink and do fictitious battle. I was frequently victorious. It turns out centuries of learning military strategy and magical combat have their advantages here on Midgard after all.’
‘Did they get you on D&D yet?’ asks Rhodey.
‘No, what is that?’
‘Dungeons and Dragons,’ says Rhodey. ‘I’ll lend you a book.’
‘I can’t believe that I, Tony Stark, can say this, but I’m surrounded by nerds.’
Thor re-pockets his winnings. ‘I am confident I would excel too at Dungeons and Dragons,’ he pronounces.
‘Yeah?’ says Rhodey. There’s a challenge in his voice. Tony resists the temptation to groan. He’s pretty the point of D&D isn’t to win. Not that Rhodey has ever been persuaded that.
‘Well I have fought actual dragons,’ points out Thor mildly. ‘And my family’s home contains a dungeon, which I have learned is not common on Midgard.’
Tony catches Rhodey’s eye. ‘Dude’s got a point,’ he says.
‘D&D is about more than just… you know…’ begins Rhodey.
‘Fighting dragons? In dungeons?’
‘Shut up, Tony.’
Tony grins and turns back to Thor. ‘How did Jane do? If she blew up your go-kart just to win a plastic medal, there’s no way that woman lets you win anything like this unless she’s way ahead.’
‘I left her there continuing to play,’ admits Thor. ‘I trust she will only increase the size of her winnings, and I assume the atmosphere will become friendlier in my absence. Five of the men are in love with her and took no pleasure in meeting me.’ He leans against the wall, so completely casual it’s irritating.
‘So you left your girlfriend in a room with a bunch of people who are allegedly in love with her. On date night.’
‘They have excellent taste,’ says Thor complacently. ‘And besides, before I left I’d won most of their cards.’ There’s suddenly a glint in his eye.
Tony laughs. The occasional reminder that Thor is a bit of a dick even when pretending to be above-it-all is always welcome. Unfortunately, all of this means the next time Thor and Rhodey are around they’ll be trying to rope Tony into playing D&D. He had enough of that at college.
The Fourth Thursday
Everyone except Clint Barton (and Thor) are loitering around, mostly suited up, by the time the next Thursday evening rolls around.
The call comes through about a lab accident that’s affecting the local populace. The Avengers go quickly, but it takes Clint a couple of minutes to arrive from whatever he was doing (probably hanging out in the roof somewhere if Tony had to guess). He shrugs off the ‘I told you so’s with a grumbled ‘whatever’ and jumps into the pilot’s seat next to Romanoff.
They’re about to close the hatch when Thor runs up. Tony is about to make a comment asking if they’ve been watching Jurassic Park Three, or if they’ve finally discovered sex, but his words die in his throat.
Thor is covered in gelatinous, thick, red liquid.
‘What the-?’
It’s not blood, Tony’s brain informs him. It’s the wrong colour. And consistency. And Thor is as irritatingly cheerful as ever with no wounds.
Seeing the stares he’s getting, Thor runs one finger down his cheek, catching a dollop of the red liquid. Then he sticks his finger in his mouth, grin widening.
‘It is a fruit mixture,’ he says. ‘It tastes like jelly.’
‘Of course it is,’ mutters Steve. ‘Don’t you guys ever, I don’t know, go to the cinema?’
‘Is Jane staying behind to wash the fruit out of the bedsheets?’ asks Tony.
‘Why would we be baking in the bedroom?’ says Thor, with such convincingly innocent confusion Tony is only ninety-percent sure he’s being messed with.
‘Why would you be baking full stop?’
‘I discovered a new cake recipe I liked the sound of,’ explains Thor slowly, as though the rest of them are the weird ones. ‘We decided to bake it together.’
‘Until you, what, decided to swim in some jelly?’ asks Romanoff.
Thor wipes some more onto his fingers and then licks them clean again. The relish with which he does so is making Tony start to think he’s accidentally stepped into a really weird porno. ‘Jane Foster is the most intelligent woman in all the Nine Realms,’ Thor explains, ‘but she does not always remember to attach the lid on the blender.’
Tony wonders if that’s true or if Jane was fed up with Thor’s PG rated dates and wanted to get things started. Then he wrinkles his nose. That, he decides, is something he doesn’t want to know the answer to.
Thor continues to clean his own face in a slightly indecent way. Tony sighs and Thor snickers. ‘Would you like a taste?’ he offers. ‘It’s very good.’
Tony pointedly turns to talk to Rhodey, wondering what he’s done to deserve getting such an annoying alien on his side.
The Fifth Thursday
They’re all waiting in the tower that Thursday. All except Thor, of course, who still hasn’t voiced any concern that every date he attempts gets interrupted. Clint Barton is looking vaguely mutinous and has voiced his opinion that it’s stupid, whereas Rhodey and Tony are debating whether Thor’s date night is something they should inform the Pentagon about officially. Romanoff has admitted she’s already told Fury.
This time it’s Hydra again, and it turns out they have a base in Rome. Steve messages Thor as they all get into the Quinjet and back into Avengers mode.
‘What do you think they were doing this time?’ mutters Tony to Rhodey. ‘Chuck E. Cheese?’
A few moments later, Jane’s voice comes across the comms. ‘Hey, hi, sorry, Jane here.’
‘Yeah, we can kinda tell you’re not Thor,’ says Steve.
Jane laughs. ‘Yeah, sorry, he says he’ll be a bit late, and you should get going without him. It’s taking a while for him to get his pants on,’ she continues casually. ‘Especially when he’s all wet and sweaty.’
Tony nearly chokes. Across the jet, Steve has gone red and is opening and shutting his mouth. He clearly has no idea what to say to that.
‘I swear, Thor, those pants are not practical,’ comes Jane’s voice again, although obviously no longer talking directly into the comms device. They can hear the rumble of Thor’s voice objecting, saying something about dragon-hide and fire-proof and waterproof. Tony is still trying to breathe.
‘Bunch of children,’ mutters Romanoff. ‘Jane, tell Thor we’re on a direct path to Rome.’
‘Gotcha!’ says Jane. ‘Thor, do you need a hand with tha--shit, watch out!’ There’s a crashing noise.
At last the comms device appears to be turned off and Tony gets his breath back long enough to crack up until he’s basically hyperventilating and Jarvis turns on the breathing apparatus in the suit.
By the time Thor catches up with them, they’re already flying over Europe.
‘I’m so proud!’ Tony greets him with. ‘You’ve finally figured out what date night is for!’
‘Going to a spa?’ replies Thor, in his usual very-convincing-but-almost-definitely-fake confused tone. Tony has definitely noticed it’s the same tone he uses every time he doesn’t want to deal with what he thinks is a stupid question from journalists.
‘A spa?’ repeats Rhodey. ‘You went on a spa day?’
‘Of course,’ says Thor. ‘It was most relaxing. Unfortunately the call came when we were in the sauna. Dressing was somewhat less relaxing. As you may have heard.’ He’s annoyingly unembarrassed.
Tony sighs. ‘All right, I give up,’ he says. ‘We’re never going to catch you with your pants down. Even after literally catching you with your pants down.’
Thor smirks and drops himself into one of the seats, lounging backwards. ‘Tony, if you wish to see me with my pants down--’
‘I did not say that.’
‘--you only have to ask. Or come to the sauna with me. I often go with friends on Asgard.’
‘You know what, next Thursday we’re just not going to call you.’
‘That,’ says Thor with finality, ‘would be welcomed by me.’
The First Wednesday
The next Wednesday, Tony is caught with his pants down.
Fortunately not in the middle of sex or anything, although that has definitely happened for him, even if Thor magically avoids it by baking cakes on date night. Tony is just changing his jeans after a lab accident. A very undramatic lab accident, as they go: no one’s become a Hulk, nothing’s exploded, and no portals to other worlds have been created. He’s actually just spilled a bunch of distilled water on himself and after no less than three people (Bruce, Rhodey, Pepper) told him he looked like he’d wet himself, he’d decided to change.
The call came through at the precise moment he was standing in his boxers.
He wastes precious seconds damning the universe before snatching his dry jeans, pulling them on, sliding feet into shoes and starting to leg it down the corridor, buttoning himself up as he goes.
‘What the hell?’ he mutters to himself. ‘It’s a Wednesday.’
That’s the most annoying part. The pattern had to break eventually of course, but he’d really liked it while it held. No more missions done while hungry or on half a charge or needing to take a leak. Or, as in this case, no more trying to get dressed in the corridor. He’s way too old for this shit.
Thinking of people who’re too old for this shit, Thor is still the last to arrive. Not by much, because everyone’s scrambling and rushing for the first time in weeks, but he barrels in at the last second just as they’re taking off.
‘Doing your hair?’ Tony grumbles.
Thor laughs and tosses his head. ‘Why, does it look good?’ he asks.
That’s when Tony notices. Thor is still in civvies, as usual. It’s not unexpected. What is unexpected, is the slightly bruised red lines around Thor’s wrists.
Handcuffs says the part of Tony’s brain that knows this sort of thing and can’t be shut off even when it’s really inconvenient.
His eyes widen. Well.
Thor catches him looking. And winks. Because of course he does, the asshole.
‘Does nothing embarrass you?’ mutters Tony, because part of him suddenly doesn’t want to ruin Rogers’ innocence. For the first time, he’s accidentally stumbled across something actually private.
Thor shrugs. ‘When you’re as old as I am…’ he says.
‘How the hell did they even leave a mark anyway?’ asks Tony’s science-brain before the rest of his brain can stop him. It’s a valid question, and he really kinda wants to know because if Thor’s got vibranium sex toys from somewhere, that could actually be useful to the Avengers. Not the sex toys bit. The vibranium bit. Still, he’s actually not sure he does want to know at all.
‘Manufactured in Asgard,’ says Thor with a note of pride.
Tony sighs. So much for secret vibranium deposits.
‘Fine, OK, done asking now,’ he says, and then because his brain hates him: ‘I thought tomorrow was date night?’
‘Date night is for dates,’ says Thor as though it were obvious. ‘That is why we usually do something different. That leaves six nights a week for… other things. Like science.’
He says that last bit with his usual, cheerful, fake-ignorance which Tony takes as definite confirmation that Thor and Jane use ‘science’ as a euphemism.
‘Ugh,’ he says. ‘I’m going to go over there. To talk to someone else.’
Thor snickers, the marks on his wrist already vanished due to his superior healing. Tony hates him sometimes.
Tony about-turns speedily and goes over to talk to Rhodey and Bruce about his plans for a next-gen arc reactor. Hydra, he considers, are really inconsiderate. They could have waited just one day for their stupid attack and then he’d still be living in blissful ignorance. Instead he’s learned far more about both Asgardian manufacturing and the tiny woman he often shares a lab with than he ever really wanted to.
One thing’s for sure though: he’s sharing the gossip with Pepper and Rhodey the second he can get them alone. He’s done Thor a favour and not told the entire Avengers team, but some embarrassment definitely needs to be shared.