Chapter Text
Tony
Tony grunted as the back of his head slammed into a wall, causing the brick and mortar to crumble away, leaving a residue of a green blast of magic swirling around him. He decided he was grateful for the helmet.
“How’re we looking?” Tony asked Jarvis.
“Suit health at 34 percent sir, with significant damage to your head protection. I would suggest withdrawing,” his AI advised, “However I am prepared for you to completely ignore my safety warning.”
Tony clicked his tongue appreciatively as he rose back up into the air, his propulsion slightly unsteady, “You know me, J.”
Tony rose up to eye level with the man, or more accurately, god, who was levitating about forty feet in the air. Hang on - that wasn’t right, Tony thought to himself, as skilled as Loki was, he couldn’t fly.
“I believe that makes it nine - eight to me,” the illusion said smugly, hands clasped behind its back, puffing out its chest, “And that’s if I’m being generous, in reality I think-”
The illusion was cut off with a repulsor ray through the head.
It only took a second of Tony scanning the ground to locate Loki, dressed immaculately in his armour of Asgardian leather, cape billowing unnecessarily dramatically behind him.
Loki tsked disapprovingly as he watched Tony lower his altitude towards him.
“Now what if that was really me. What fun would we have if you’d have blasted me in the head?” Loki snarked.
“Well, I’d believe that would settle the score for good to make it nine - eight to me, and that’s if I’m being generous,” Tony replied, before shooting another repulsor, this time at the real Loki.
Loki responded with a divide and conquer strategy, splitting himself into seven different beings. Six illusions. One god. Tony desperately wanted to blow up the local vicinity; Loki’s little magic tricks never failed to irritate him, but he decided that decimating an entire city of people might not get him into anybody’s good books. World War Two had been proof enough of that. Instead, Tony launched himself headfirst into the nearest Loki, which dissolved instantly.
“Sir, I would suggest not risking your helmet any more,” Jarvis warned.
“Why would I even need my helmet?” Tony quipped.
“To talk to me, sir.”
“What if I don’t want to talk to you?”
“Then you are more than welcome to fly home at mach five with no head protection.”
“Noted.”
Just as Tony was about to turn around, he found himself sprawling forward at an alarming velocity, through a window, which shattered into a million tiny shards, and into another wall.
“You really need to stop getting distracted,” Loki said patronisingly, as Tony grumbled, shaking away the dizziness that followed the collision, “It doesn’t seem to help your case.”
“I could say the same to you,” Tony replied, before launching a series of micro-missiles at his nemesis, who dodged them elegantly.
Loki laughed. “You've built a flying armour capable of crossing oceans, and yet missiles remain your preferred solution?”
Just as Tony was about to respond, the sound of police sirens nearby, had them both turning their heads.
“I think that calls time,” Loki said with a mock sadness.
“Looks like it’s a draw today,” Tony complained.
“I don’t quite think so,” Loki sneered, as Tony felt an impact at the side of his head, knocking him to the ground. He cursed as he realised the Loki he had been talking to was an illusion. As Tony staggered back up, he saw the illusion slowly diffuse into the air, and the Loki that had just struck the final blow pulled out the book he had spent that afternoon searching for, tapped Tony lightly on the head with it, and winked at him before teleporting away.
Tony knew Loki couldn’t have gone far, he could only teleport short distances after all, but he knew any sort of chase would turn out fruitless, Loki wouldn’t be found in a sprawling metropolis unless he was up to something, like looking for what Tony assumed was some sort of spellbook that afternoon. If only he had a wider radar system attached to his suit that worked on a frost giant god, Tony mused to himself, stashing the thought away for later when the sound of sirens got closer.
He walked back over to the window Loki had rudely catapulted him through, before launching off into the sky.
Tony was never really one to appreciate any beauty, except that of a product of his own intelligence, but as he flew over the glistening blue Pacific Ocean, he had to take a moment to appreciate the sheer enormity and elegance of it, even from so high up. That was, until the crystal blue became a greener colour, turning his mind back to Loki.
It had all started with a coincidence at the American Museum of Natural History. Thanks to Pepper, Tony had found himself wound up at an opening of an exhibit he wasn’t even bothered to remember the name of, and sick of the endless stream of questions completely unrelated to the exhibit that reporters had crowded around him to ask, he snuck out to an empty section of the museum. After wandering through the place absentmindedly, the sound of a swish snapped him back to reality, putting him on full alert. He followed the sound carefully, to see what he didn’t realise at the time was a god in an ornate gold helmet with golden horns and a regal green cape. Tony watched as Loki searched methodically through the fossils, until he found what he wanted. Tony decided not to think too hard of the fight that ensued, a fight that ended with Loki saying, “One-nil to me,” before disappearing with the fossil in hand. Tony never found out what exactly it was for. Throughout the months that followed, Loki continued to break into a whole host of locations, from museums, to castles, to universities, always after a relic of some sort, and Tony made sure he was always there to catch him.
Tony thought his method of tracking down Loki was rather ingenious. Under the guise of safety measures for his Stark Industries green energy plants, he’d installed radiation detectors that alerted him when the exact radiation readings for Asgardian magic occurred and where, leading him right to Loki.
A less elegant than usual landing announced Tony’s landing back at his Malibu mansion. The night sky in Malibu was a stark contradiction to the beaming sunlight he’d enjoyed in the Shanghai afternoon, but he was grateful for the cool breeze as the hours in his suit caused him to become hot and sweaty. That could be another upgrade for the suit, he noted mentally.
He strolled along the hidden walkway from his landing pad to his workshop, Jarvis opening doors for him with a slick hiss. Automated robots around him took off his suit piece by piece, as he stretched his limbs, sore from the fight. He watched as his suit was reassembled in the centre of his workshop, wincing as he saw the damage. A robot passed him an icepack, which he pressed against his head, where a particularly nasty bump was beginning to swell up.
“Jarvis, can you run a scan on damages to my suit?”
“Right away sir.”
“Thanks. Just put the data onto the Mark 45 folder, I’m going upstairs. I’ll tell you what, I am starving.”
“That does tend to happen when you cross the Pacific Ocean twice in one day.”
After deciding the icepack was useless, Tony tossed it to one side, leaving it to Dum-E to pick up and dispose of, before heading up the stairs two at a time. When he arrived at the main foyer of the mansion, he was met by Pepper, who was looking at him expectantly.
“Evening Pep,” Tony said, weaving his way around her as he made a beeline for the fridge.
“Where have you been all day?” she asked lightly.
“Oh just tinkering you know, in the workshop,” he lied as he rumaged through his food, frowning when he couldn’t find anything satisfactory in the fridge, “Like I always do. And you always tell me off for it. Anyway besides the point, why is there no good food here! Can you order me some-”
Pepper cut him off. “Right so you’ve definitely been in your workshop all day.”
“Yeah,” Tony replied innocently as he poured himself three fingers of whiskey, “Can you order me a cheeseburger please?”
Pepper’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“So then, I fear there may be an Iron Man impersonator somewhere.”
“Oh?”
She placed her iPad onto the counter, as Tony poured himself another drink, and played video footage from Shanghai. Blurry, but unmistakably him.
“Would you like to reconsider your answer?”
“Yes, fine, I was in Shanghai. But in my defence, they have really nice noodle bars!”
“So that’s why you’re still really hungry now?”
“Well, it took me just over an hour to fly back…”
“Tony Stark, I know that when you eat, you eat enough to be fuelled for days so don’t you even try lying to me.”
“Ok, fine. I was meeting a friend.”
“You don’t have friends in Shanghai.”
“Evidently I do.”
“Tony. This is your fourth trip that you’ve tried to hide from me this month alone. What have you been doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Who have you been fighting? They’re never in the video footage.”
“Why do you even care?” Tony asked, pouring himself yet another generous portion of whiskey.
“Because you could get hurt!”
“That’s what the armour’s for.”
Pepper sighed deeply, before walking away, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I’m hungry. I never got my cheeseburger,” were Tony’s first words of the day as he rolled unceremoniously out of bed. Thankfully, he had Jarvis to help him.
“Would you like me to make you some breakfast, sir?”
“Absolutely,” Tony said, pulling on a pair of jeans and a band t-shirt.
“Gluten-free waffles coming up.”
“Thanks, J.”
By lunchtime, Tony found himself bored. He’d spent the start of the morning trying to learn a new piece on the piano. Boring, he’d decided after flawlessly learning the first twenty bars. Ten minutes later he was swapping around the artwork in his study. He unceremoniously lobbed two pieces he’d declared ‘too minimalistic’ into the hallway, leading to a sharp shattering as the frames crashed into the ground, before putting up two Iron Man posters.
Jarvis was doing an intense data download to repair the suit, which meant even Tony, who was never one to follow protocol, had to admit that he didn’t want anything catastrophic happening to his prized possession. Well, current prized possession until he built the next suit. So with upgrades on pause, Tony had nothing to do. That was a lie, he thought to himself, remembering the large stack of papers Pepper needed him to do. He had nothing interesting to do.
That was, until he heard footsteps that were noticeably not Peppers walking from his front door to the foyer. Frowning, Tony put one hand on his watch, ready to weaponise it if needed, before realising the footsteps sounded familiar. He let down his guard, and looked over to see Steve, dressed in a jacket, shirt and chinos, walking towards him.
“Who let you in?” Tony asked indignantly.
“Nice to see you too,” Steve said, rolling his eyes at the eccentric billionaire.
“Yes, yes,” Tony said, waving away the formalities with one hand, “Let me repeat - who let you in?”
“Pepper.”
Tony cursed. Pepper must be really mad at him if she wasn’t even telling him when he had guests.
“Jarvis!” Tony called, “From now on, if Pepper doesn’t tell me, please inform me when I have visitors.”
“Of course, sir.”
Tony led Steve towards the bar, as he looked his friend up and down. He hadn’t seen Steve, for well, months. They first met when Nick Fury introduced the Avengers Initiative, which died down when it never really had reason to kick off. Maybe it would have kicked off again if Tony told them about his encounters with Loki, but secretly, he enjoyed the challenge of doing it alone. After that, Steve and Tony met often, they bounced off each other well, but their meetings became less frequent as time went on, mostly because Tony was nearly incapable of maintaining stable friendships.
Nestled by Tony’s indoor waterfall, the bar was bold yet elegant, home to a variety of the most expensive and exotic drinks one could think of. Modern barstools offered sleek, comfortable seating, surrounded by smart lighting controlled by J.A.R.V.I.S.
“Drink?” Tony asked, when Steve made himself comfortable on a barstool.
“Depends how creative you’re feeling.”
“Oh, you know I like a challenge.”
“Alright, a Brooklyn Egg Cream, it’s-”
“I know what it is,” Tony said cockily, already rummaging around for ingredients.
“Go on then, genius.”
“Anyway, what are you doing still drinking egg creams?”
“They taste good.”
“Yeah, they were good back in 1943.”
“So were manners.”
“Ouch.”
“Ouch indeed.”
“Don’t you drink anything more… alcoholic?”
Steve shrugged, “Sometimes, I don’t really bother though. Super soldier serum means I can’t get drunk, remember?”
“What a rough life you lead,” Tony said, sliding the drink across the table.
“Thanks,” Steve replied dryly, as he took a sip of the drink from Tony, who began pouring himself a glass of scotch, “Y’know this isn’t bad.”
Tony gave a bow, before downing his own drink.
“What brings you here then, Cap? Got a mission?”
“No, not quite, I've been tasked to give you this.” Steve handed him an envelope, which Tony took curiously.
The envelope was heavy, made of what seemed to be cosmic parchment that shimmered slightly like how Thor had described the Bifrost in the few times that they had met. The writing on the front was written in an ink that looked like molten, glowing gold, with his name written on it in elegant writing. Tony flipped the envelope over to open it, and was met with it sealed with an insignia, two crossed spears. The letter itself was made of a similar material to the envelope, only slightly thinner, and the parchment hummed slightly with energy, letting off a soft holographic mist. Tony’s eyebrows furrowed as he was met with a page of runes, but just as he was about to open his mouth to ask Steve how he was supposed to read it, the runes glowed briefly before translating themselves into English. Asgard’s Allspeak, Tony thought to himself, his little knowledge of the place itself confirming its origin.
Steve raised his eyebrows at this uncharacteristic gentleness from Tony. Usually he would have torn into the envelope excitedly, but today he was actually taking time to see how it worked.
“Go on then, read it,” Steve encouraged, as he noticed Tony trying to work out how the runes translated themselves, “You know it’s magic that does that.”
“Don’t rush my magical experience,” Tony warned jokingly, before turning his attention back to his letter.
Dear Mr Stark,
The Allfather Odin, sends his greetings to you on Midgard. Word has reached the Golden Realm of your continued vigilance in protecting your world. As we have sworn to safeguard the Nine Realms, we acknowledge the strength of your actions.
Therefore, we send out this invitation to a celebration of heroism in the Royal Palace of Asgard, which will begin on the Midgardian date of the fifteenth of June at 20:00.
Please send confirmation of your attendance by writing ‘yes’ on the back of this parchment.
Regards,
The Royal Palace of Asgard
“Do you have a pen?” Tony asked Steve, who promptly pulled one from the inside pocket of his jacket.
Before even bothering to check the date, Tony scrawled a ‘yes’ onto the back of the parchment in his crude handwriting, which immediately sunk into the luxury paper, and disappeared, as did the parchment, which slowly dissolved into the air.
“Hang on!” Tony yelped as the last trace of the letter vanished, “I was going to study that.”
“I think that’s exactly what they don’t want anyone doing,” Steve noted. Tony downed his drink and poured himself another.
“Rude. Anyway, how do they expect me to remember the date? And how am I even supposed to get there? Wait a second - are you going too?”
“Take a breath, one question at a time,” Steve said, huffing out a small laugh.
“Yes I’m going.”
“Good.”
Steve allowed himself a small smile at the rare show of affection, however tiny, from his friend.
“And remembering the date? Just write it down or something.”
Tony pouted. “You can’t expect me to remember where I’ve written it down.”
“Tell Jarvis.”
“Already noted,” Jarvis chimed.
Steve wrinkled his nose as he watched Tony pour, then down, yet another drink.
“Tony, you really shouldn’t drink that much, it’s not good for you.”
“I’m fine,” Tony said, brushing off Steve’s comment, “Besides, you haven’t answered my last question, which is arguably the most important.”
“I thought whether I was going would be the most important!” Steve countered with mock outrage, deciding to let his friend off the hook that time.
“Wow you need an ego check.”
“Hilarious. Thor said that Heimdall, I think that’s the teleporting guy, would take us.”
“Cool, maybe he’ll let me see how their teleporter works.”
“Doubt it.”
“Wait - you’ve been talking with Thor?”
“Yeah, we meet up every few weeks or so.”
Tony shuffled his feet slightly and looked down at his glass for a moment before emptying it in one swallow. Steve took the glass from his hand.
“Really Tony, you’ve got to stop drinking.”
Tony clenched his jaw. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I said I’m fine!”
Steve studied his friend for a minute, watching as his jaw ticked.
“I’ll see you at the party, call me if you need me,” Steve said in a voice that was both firm and gentle. Tony hung his head as Steve saw himself out the mansion, noticing as Pepper went to go and talk to Steve, as she watched Tony cautiously from the corner of her eye.
By the time the click of the front door echoed through the house to the bar, Tony was wired. He stared into his glass for a long second before shoving himself away from the bar and practically ran back down to his workshop, where he watched his robots still at work repairing his suit.
“Jarvis, pause all work on my suit. I need some air.”
“Sir, I would highly recommend a safer way of doing that.”
“J, I need to go out in my suit. Now.”
“There are still terabytes of calculations that have to be done.”
“Sometimes you’ve gotta run before you can walk.”