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Tony hovers above Manhattan, watching the scene on the street below.
Nick Fury is striding toward the crazyassed nutjob in the ski mask. Captain America and Black Widow are following behind at a short distance.
“Have you met my demands?” the nutjob asks.
“I told you before, motherfucker, I don’t negotiate with terrorists. You deaf?”
“Sir,” JARVIS says. “I am unable to extrapolate the location of the explosive devices without additional data.”
“Well ain’t that just swell?” Tony replies sarcastically. “What the hell use are you, anyway? I should reprogram you into a pocket calculator. At least then I could use you to balance my checkbook.”
“I am the one who balances your checkbook, sir.”
“Fuck off, JARVIS. Figure out a way to find me those bombs. The clock is ticking.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jesus. I need a drink.”
He glances over and sees Hawkeye in a nearby window, an arrow trained on the nutjob below, waiting for the order to take him out.
It’s just Clint, Natasha, Steve, Fury, and himself today.
Thor has fucked off to Asgard – God only knows why – and Banner is back at the base.
A decision had been made that the absolute last thing they needed in this situation is an enraged Hulk rampaging around Manhattan, smashing stuff and possibly setting off every single bomb that this nutjob has hidden.
“I don’t see how this day could possibly go further to shit at this point,” Tony mutters, and then: “Well, fuck me, I stand corrected!” because suddenly Loki is there on the street, standing in front of Fury. He’s dressed in his emerald and gold armor with a long flowing emerald cape and that stupid fucking giant horned helmet.
The nutjob in the ski mask begins to laugh.
“Who’s this guy?” He glances around. “He’s got the stupidest costume out of all of you idiots. Just sayin'.”
“Oh yeah, that’s probably not the right thing to say,” Tony mutters, and now he’s grinning in anticipation despite himself. He lowers his altitude and changes his position in the air so that he can see Loki’s face better.
“I am Loki Laufeyson, Prince of Asgard,” he’s telling the nutjob loftily. “I have been worshipped as a god here on your world.”
He holds up his hands, and they are alive with green magic.
“And I do not negotiate with anyone.”
The nutjob begins to scream.
And scream.
And scream.
He falls to his knees, still screaming, his hands pressed to the sides of his head.
And Loki’s not even touching the guy.
He’s just standing there, expressionless, watching with hooded emerald eyes as the nutjob writhes around on the ground and screams and screams and screams.
Tony is horrified and fascinated at the same time.
“The pain will continue until you agree to cease this folly,” Loki tells him.
“Yes! Yes! Anything!” The nutjob’s voice is ragged and broken. “Just make it stop!” He fumbles inside his jacket and throws something at Loki, and the god catches it deftly.
“All right,” he murmurs, and the nutjob abruptly stops screaming and pretty much stops moving altogether. Tony wonders if he’s dead or unconscious or what.
Loki turns to Fury and offers him whatever it is that the nutjob had thrown at him.
“The detonation device, I believe,” Loki says.
Fury looks down at the device, then back up at the god.
“OK, gang,” he calls. “Looks like playtime’s over, thanks to Laufeyson here.” He gives Loki a speculative look. “Nice work,” he finally says.
Loki shrugs. “It seemed the most expedient method.”
As the police and paramedics hurry forward to collect the nutjob, Tony comes in for a landing next to Fury.
“Prince of Asgard, huh?” Tony asks. “Hey, Loki, how come you left out the part about being an Ice Warrior?”
“Frost Giant, sir,” JARVIS corrects.
“No, no, I’m pretty sure it’s Ice Warrior.”
“Ice Warriors are fictional, sir. They are creatures from the British science fiction television program Doctor Who.”
He frowns. “Are you sure about that?”
“Quite sure, sir.”
“Oh, hell, whatever, JARVIS.”
He turns his attention back to Loki.
“But you know, maybe you guys should start calling yourselves Ice Warriors instead. That sounds a lot more badass than ‘Frost Giant’, if you want my opinion,” he continues. “And you probably don’t, but anyway… I mean, think about it. ‘Frost Giant’ makes me think of the Jolly Green Giant standing around in the frozen food section, and all he did was pick vegetables and go ‘ho ho ho’. He did wear a red scarf, I think, kind of like that one Doctor Who guy but maybe not really. Anyway, ‘Ice Warriors’ sound like people who do something, you know? They don’t pick vegetables, they kick ass.”
He suddenly realizes that everyone – Loki included – is staring at him like they think he’s lost his damn mind, and he wonders briefly if he actually has in fact lost his damn mind. He makes a mental note to check with JARVIS about that later but then he remembers that JARVIS is a snarky sarcastic bastard, which is really annoying except Tony is the one who programmed him that way.
“Thank you so much for the suggestion, Stark,” Loki finally says, and his voice is absolutely dripping with acid and warning. “Perhaps I shall bring that up at the next monthly meeting,”
“You should, you really definitely should,” Tony tells him, because he evidently lacks both common sense and any sort of self-preservation instinct. Not to mention a brain-to-mouth filter. “But you guys should probably be aware that the BBC might view that as some kind of copyright infringement…. d’you guys have good lawyers? ‘Cause I can recommend some if you need – ”
“You truly do not know when to stop speaking, do you?” Loki asks and Fury says, “Stark, you need to shut the fuck up right now,” at almost the same exact time.
“Yeah, I know, I talk too much, everyone says so, it’s a bad habit, and I – ”
Loki is raising his hands and they’re crackling with that green magic and Tony has time to think oh shit, I’m fucked and then the HUD goes dead and Tony can’t see a goddamn thing because his field of vision has been reduced to two tiny little slits and he can’t figure out why and he hears laughter and realizes that Fury, Natasha, and Steve are all laughing for some reason and then it hits him that his armor feels all wrong.
He grabs his helmet and pulls it off and he sees that it’s plastic, and that’s when he realizes that he’s now wearing a plastic Iron Man Halloween costume instead of his armor.
Clint has come down from his window to join the rest of the group.
“Trick or treat, Tony!” he says, barely able to speak through his laughter.
“Fuck you, Fuckface. Fuck off.”
For some reason, that makes his teammates laugh even harder.
Loki isn’t laughing. He’s just standing there looking insufferably smug.
And then suddenly Tony’s laughing too, because shit, it is kind of funny. Maybe a little bit, anyway.
OK, it’s actually pretty damn funny, he’s gotta admit it.
“And this, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this is why you don’t fuck with the God of Mischief,” Tony says, and sketches an absurd little bow in Loki’s direction. “Let my stupidity serve as an object lesson to you all. Or a bad example. A warning? I’m not sure which one… maybe all of those, actually.”
“All right, gang,” Fury says as the laughter finally subsides. “Celebration dinner tonight, since we somehow managed to get through the past ten minutes without killing anyone or leveling the whole damn town.”
“Can I bring a date?” Tony asks snidely. “Because there’s this centerfold called Miss July that I’d really like to fu– ”
“You too, Laufeyson,” Fury adds. Loki looks surprised. “Yeah, you’re invited. You saved the damn day here, didn’t you?
“Ooo, there’s your date, Tony!” Natasha says, and Clint starts making kissing noises. Steve laughs.
Tony pulls off one of his plastic gauntlets and shoots the bird at all of them.
“Everyone can bring a damn date,” Fury says with a sigh. “The maturity level here is fucking overwhelming.”
“Nyah nyah nyah nyah, nyah!” Tony singsongs, and sticks his tongue out at Fury.
“Do me a favor, OK?” Pepper asks. “Just don’t kill Tony tonight, all right?”
She and Loki are walking arm-in-arm through the restaurant toward the private back room where The Avengers are holding their celebratory dinner.
Pepper is wearing a little black dress, and Loki is back in his black suit with the emerald and gold striped tie.
“I can make no promises,” he murmurs.
“Look, I know how annoying he can be – believe me, I know! – but, you know, let’s try not to have any casualties tonight. I really like this place and I’d like to be able to come back here after this!”
“I shall try my best.”
She glances up at him and sees that he’s smiling.
She smiles back. “Thank you, Loki. I appreciate that.”
They enter the private dining room, and everyone stares.
“Well,” Bruce finally says from his seat at the table. “This is a surprise.”
“Miss Potts,” Fury says, rising, smiling. “It is truly a pleasure to see you again.”
She smiles warmly as he takes her hand. “Same here.”
“I don’t fucking believe this shit,” Tony says.
He’s standing near the table and he’s got a beautiful young girl in a very low cut red dress on his arm and a drink in his hand, and Pepper judges from the way that his words seem to blend together a bit that he’s already had a few.
“Look at Pepper!” Steve crows from his seat at the table. “She’s livin’ la vida Loki!”
Tony glares down at him. “You know, I never should’ve introduced you to current pop culture. How’d I make such a huge mistake?” He frowns. “Wait, that rhymes.”
“Hello, Tony,” Pepper says. “You’ve already met Loki, I know.”
“Yeah, we’ve definitely met.”
“Stark,” Loki says coldly.
“Assho… ahhh, Laufeyson,” Tony replies with a curt nod. “And this,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the girl on his arm and nearly spilling his drink in the process, “is Miss July.” He frowns. “She has an actual name… I think. Can’t remember what it is, though.” He shrugs. “Oh well, it’s not important.”
“Lovely,” Pepper says, rolling her eyes. “I see you’re back to your old self.”
“Yep. Can’t keep me down. Though I bet Miss July here could… well, never mind.” He downs his drink. “Where’s that damn waitress? I need another fucking drink,” he says, and wanders off.
“I’m Sandy,” Miss July says, extending her hand.
“Pepper,” she replies, shaking it. “And – ”
“Loki,” Sandy says. “Yeah, I know.”
She doesn’t offer to shake hands with Loki, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“She’s into new sensations,” a new voice sings. “New kinks in the candlelight. She’s got a new addiction, for every day and night!”
Clint dances into the room, pulling a laughing Natasha by the hand. He spins her away and dances up to Loki.
“She’ll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain,” Clint sings to the puzzled god very dramatically. “And once you’ve had a taste of her you’ll never be the same!”
“Clint. Barton.” Pepper says in her very best warning tone, and he immediately stops, dissolving into laughter.
“Fucking shit,” Tony says, walking back into the room with a fresh scotch in hand. “Does everyone know that stupid goddamned fucking song?”
“I don’t know it,” Loki says with complete and total innocence, and the look that Tony gives him could strip the paint from the walls.
“Time for dinner,” Fury says, and glares around the room. “Everyone OK with that?”
Fury will later think that in retrospect, choosing a restaurant that is renowned for their pies was probably pretty obviously a very bad idea.
They somehow manage to make it through dinner without any fatalities, though at one point Tony had begun humming “Frosty The Snowman” just loud enough to be heard, earning a sharp kick under the table from Pepper. Thank God that Loki is utterly oblivious, she had thought.
And now dessert is being served.
All of those wonderful specialty pies of every conceivable kind and variety that made this restaurant famous are being brought to the table.
And then the wait staff disappears to find plates and cutlery for serving dessert.
A very drunk Tony is leaning back in his chair, giving Loki an appraising look.
“So, Frosty,” he says, polishing off yet another glass of scotch. “Thor told us you’re adopted. So tell me something: what’s it like to be such a fucking useless waste of life that even your own damn family doesn’t want you?”
Everyone stares at Tony, completely and utterly appalled by his words.
“Stark,” Fury’s voice is a low, angry rumble, but he doesn’t even get a chance to get started.
Loki rises to his feet.
The entire room is suddenly very cold.
Loki leans over the table, grabs Tony by his lapels and hauls him up so that they are nose-to-nose.
“Urk. OK, maybe I could’ve worded that better – ” Tony begins.
“Stark,” Loki hisses right in Tony’s face. And then, low and ominous: “You live now only because Pepper wishes it.”
There is a long pause, and then Loki throws Tony bodily back into his chair like he’s a nothing more than a ragdoll, and the chair tips backwards and spills him onto the floor.
Pepper stands and glares down at Tony.
“You know, it’s funny,” she muses quietly, and her voice wavers because she’s fighting back tears. “I’d almost forgotten what a bastard you can be.”
She takes a deep breath and manages to collect herself, and then she takes Loki’s arm.
“Come on,” she murmurs to him. “Come on, Loki, come on love. We’re leaving.”
And she begins to lead him away.
“Fucking fuck!” Tony yells, and drunkenly hauls himself to his feet.
He looks down at the table and the grin suddenly spreads across his face.
“No, Tony, don’t – ” Steve begins, but it’s too late.
The chocolate cream pie hits Loki right in the back of his head.
The god turns around very slowly.
The room is so frigid now that everyone is shivering. When Natasha exhales, she can see her breath.
The pie tin and crust are perched on Loki’s head at a rather rakish angle like some kind of bizarre hat, and chocolate and whipped cream are clumped in his shiny black hair and dripping down his face.
“Oh, shit,” Clint mumbles. “Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit…” he repeats, like a weird litany.
Hissing with fury, Loki reaches for the nearest weapon he can find.
“Shit, I fucking hate key lime,” Tony has time to say before Loki’s missile hits him square in the face and knocks him backwards off his feet and onto the floor. Again.
And then all hell breaks loose.
“Stop it! Stop this crazy goddamn shit right fucking now!” Fury yells, sounding… well, furious.
Bruce is getting ready to unleash a lemon meringue pie on an unsuspecting Clint, who is already coated in pastry. Bruce is still utterly spotless, because no one – not even Loki – is either brave or stupid enough to throw a pie at him.
Steve isn’t contributing much to the melee, as he is understandably distracted by the fact that Miss July is grinding a peaches and cream pie down the front of his pants.
Tony clambers to his knees and gropes for his scotch glass, evidently having forgotten that it’s empty.
With a shriek of rage, Pepper clobbers him in the face with a pumpkin pie, and he goes down for the count.
Natasha and Loki are stalking each other like a couple of jungle cats.
She has two pies, one in each hand – blueberry and banana cream – and is just waiting for her moment.
Loki is delicately hefting a coconut cream pie in his right hand, and his grin is absolutely feral.
“You crazy motherfuckers will all cut this goddamn shit out right the fuck now!” Fury yells.
Natasha and Loki exchange a look, and something changes in the air between them.
In unison, they turn toward Fury, still hefting their pies meaningfully.
“Aw hell no, don’t you two even fucking think about – ”
Pow! Blueberry banana coconut cream Fury.
Tony is once again trying to haul himself to his knees.
I can never come back here again, Pepper thinks mournfully. Too bad. I really love this restaurant.
She picks up a black raspberry pie.
“Hey, Tony,” she calls, and when he looks up at her, she lets him have it.
“So… worst second date ever?” Pepper asks.
She and Loki are walking arm-in-arm up the sidewalk, and people are stopping, turning, staring… not because she is the ex-fiancée of a fabulously wealthy philanthropist playboy superhero or because Loki is an infamous supervillain, but rather because they’re both covered with nearly every variety of pie imaginable.
“Or best,” Loki says with a shrug. He catches her eye and grins, showing her his perfect white teeth. “I am still trying to decide. But at least I did not kill Stark.”
She laughs. “Yes, and I appreciate that!”
They stop walking, and she reaches up with one finger to wipe some of the pie off his face.
“How ever will we get all of this pastry off of us?” he murmurs.
“Well,” she murmurs, and puts her finger in her mouth. Looking him right in the eye, she very deliberately licks her finger clean. “I have an idea…”
FINIS.