Archive of Our Own

“I haven’t even said anything yet.” Tony Stark says amidst make-up displays, milling shoppers and obnoxious Christmas cheer. His hands are out, fingers splayed, chin tucked as his eyes look forward, beseeching. “Are you going to assume or do you know what I’m going to say already.”

The person his question is poised to has her back to him. Spine curled forward, she eyes product in the display case beneath her. A black nail taps on the glass in an attempt to get the attention of the sales associate who openly covets one of the richest men in the world. She rests a pale arm on the counter. Bearing her weight on it, she doesn’t look to the associate when she says, “I require the set.”

A void of Christmas cheer, she’s dressed in shades of black and grey. Another sales associate appears, purposefully knocking herself into her co-worker as she passes by to pull whatever item the woman at the counter wants. Tony’s arms drop as he says, “Are you ignoring me?”

“You have nothing that would hold my attention or wants.” The woman replies, loud enough for him to hear over a strange, millennial version of Deck the Halls. Her sharp nail drags along the smooth surface and stops. She taps it once, saying, “I want that as well.”

Tony sputters and the associate who’s desperate for his attention shoots a frustrated look to her customer.

“Sir, if you need any help, I’d be happy to help you!” The sales associate says, smile bright and stretching across her face. Behind her, Tony doesn’t need to see it to know that her co-worker is rolling her eyes heavenward.

“You say that and you haven’t even looked at me-” He continues and the woman in black cuts him off.

“I do not need to look upon you to know that I will not want.”

Both associates look at her then, cringing. The one who was packaging her purchase, places the bag on the counter next to her. The woman makes no move for her wallet or purse to pay for the purchase.

“I should be hurt, but now I’m just confused.” Tony says, coming to stand besides the woman in black.
He rests his arms on the warm glass, pushing his weight down upon it and studies her profile. Pale skin and dark sharp features are drawn into an irritated expression. With a glance at her reflection he can see that her lips are pursed, her eyes narrowed. “You were at my Expo. Showed up in a green number-”

“What I wore has no bearing on whether if I should care for you.” She snaps, turning to look at him. The movement dislodges her hair and in a soft cascading wave it falls from her shoulder and pools on the counter. It acts like a curtain, blocking out distant cheers of Christmas and brings her face into sharp focus. The first thing Tony thinks when he fully looks at her is that there is something familiar about her. He gives her a face quick up and down, well, side to side, as he takes in the fact that she’s surprised. Dark brows, perfect eyeliner, green eyes, black lips. She’s wearing gold and green earrings, one of which still swings with momentum, but she’s giving him the same look that he’s giving her but more concrete. She knows who he is then, good. It’ll make things easier, now he just has to covertly ask her what her name is again, since she clearly knows him but he can’t remember where he knows her from.

Tony grins as he takes her shock as positive recognition, even though the woman’s eyes dart from his own to that of his chest. Right where the Arc Reactor used to rest.

“Are free tomorrow?” He asks, a smile playful on his lips.

“No.” Her answer is curt as she pushes up from the counter and Tony makes a soft ‘oh’ as the woman he had assumed to be his own height or smaller, in fact, towers. She glares down at him, not breaking eye contact as she grabs the bag on the counter and then begins to walk away. The sales associates looking a bit dazed but Tony doesn’t notice. He watches her walk away, surmising that his estimations weren’t off- she’s just as tall as him, it’s just the heels that make her seem so tall.

“Shit- wait.” He says as it hits him that she’s walking away. He pushes himself up from the counter and takes long steps to catch up to her. She doesn’t break her stride nor look back to acknowledge him as she heads to the doors leading into the open belly of the mall. As she pushes through the doors, he’s suddenly going against a tide of busy shoppers.

“Hey, I thought we had something special here- watch it!” He snaps as the tide of customers becomes overwhelming. One urgent shopper barrels into him, nearly knocking him over. He pushes at the guy, who only gives him a confounded look before disappearing into rows of ties and overpriced socks. Tony looks back to the entrance and sees it bare, looks back into the department and notices that the hordes of shoppers have disbursed into a stubborn few who complain about prices. A security guard when he looks at the doors gives him wide eyes and shrugs.

“Customers.” Is the guard’s only suggestion and answer. Tony rakes a hand through his hair, muttering a dismissal. He looks at his watch, winces and continues on his original intent of meeting Pepper at the restaurant of her choice. By the end of dessert, he’s forgets the woman in black in favor of debating with his long time friend and confidant.

He forgets about her for the rest of the Christmas season. He focuses his energy on spreading holiday (Iron Man) cheer and running his Expo. His curiosity and memory are jogged however during the countdown of the New Years Eve ball. It’s a gaudy thing - the colors are red and gold in celebration of a certain New Yorker- and it has thirty seconds to drop. He’s surrounded by New York’s most beautiful and brightest: models lounge or stand near sofas and cushions, ready to sit back down. Technologists, and heads of corporations, a few discreet members of SHIELD and the military, are all gazing to the large holographic screen that dominates the side of his party, showing the slow descent into a new year.

He doesn’t see her until the clock nearly strikes twelve and plastic horns and blowouts are prepped in people’s mouths and dangerously close to his ears. She’s across the room from him, everyone’s champagne arm up but her own, standing amidst golden balloons and dark tailored suits. His breath catches for a moment as the memory from the mall wells up and his eyes narrow, and the nagging feeling of I Know You comes up. She raises her brows at him, and takes a drink of champagne just as the New Year rings in. A shower of red and gold confetti comes down as people shout and shrill plastic instruments announce the year.

“Happy New Year!” Rhodey says, clasping him on the shoulder and laughing in his ear. Tony pushes away, saying he’ll be back. He pushes and navigates through the sea of guests but she’s already gone.

“Repeat that one more time for me, please.” Tony says, nursing a water bottle as he reclines back in a leather chair. He’s in his personal Research & Development level of his tower, the flooring a plain, chilled concrete, the support beams bare of decoration. Steel tables littered with parts gleam in the midday sun of Manhattan, as idling screens move through calculations or stream various YouTube content. He watches Dum-E attempt to stack empty cans into a pyramid.

JARVIS’ smooth voice fills the room, replying with, “She was not on the guest list, sir, and furthermore we have no facial recognitions in our west coast system. I am currently compiling from both our east coast and international data bases to see if we have a match.”

Tony takes a drink of water. He places the bottle on his desk, standing, saying, “Front and center.”

Blue light filters from hidden panels scattered across the room, creating five large heads-up displays. Waving his hands inward, the two outermost HUDs merge to create three. The topic amongst the three is the same- the woman in black- but of different events. The first is of a top angled view of an industry event that had taken place during the first few weeks of last year’s Stark Expo -2014-. A spiralling bulls-eye appears along the edge of screen before zooming in to give a clear facial picture of its target. On the second screen the video plays back the footage from the New Year’s party he hosted just the day before. The camera focuses quickly, picking up her image conversing with a group of men Tony knows to be part of the military. On the last is the scrolling profile of every woman who’s been through Stark Industry’s company doors and who has been invited to private functions. A percentage bar swings back and forth on match percentage, as names scroll continuously.

“Who are you?” He mutters as the sharp click of heels signals the arrival of Pepper. She stands on the short landing at door, dressed in a cream business suit, her red hair done in a top bun. She watches the screens, walking through several beams of light as she makes her way down and towards him. A file rests on one arm; a pen dangles in her other hand.

“Another project?” Pepper asks, looking from the screens to him. The desk in between them.

“Something like that.” He answers, holding a hand out. “Those for me?”

“For once, this is all for me. These,” She walks around the desk and from file pulls out three decorative envelopes, handing them to him, she says, “are for you. Treat them as if you were on the clock.”

He makes a face, scrunching his nose at the letters.

“When have I ever been on the clock?”

“Well, pretend.” Pepper smiles and he smiles back taking a hold of the letters. Their hands connecting by three thin slips of paper and parchment. Tony forgets about the HUDs and focuses on the woman who’s the most important person to him. They smile at each other until Dum-E’s pyramid collapses on itself. Pepper breaks the spell. She blinks first, then heavily, turning away from him. The connection lost, Tony’s smile wilts and he pulls the papers out of her hand. Unmoored, Pepper turns and walks back to the door as he watches. She turns back one more time to look at him on the landing and he swallows, wishing there was a flush of color, anything, to show that she had been phased as he had been.

“Tony, whatever you’re doing.” She nods her head in the direction of the screens. “Be careful.”

She’s gone in a click of heels and he tosses the envelopes on his desk. He sighs deeply, raking a hand through his hair.

“Sure.” He says, hands on his hips. He looks to the HUDs then to the New York skyline. “Sure.”

He loses himself in his work, the feel of a drill in his hand grounding him in the present. The stutter and violent pulse at the pull of a trigger keeps his focus and demands his attention. He only stops at JARVIS’ reminder that he needs to eat for the day and he does so. He finishes the meal by putting on a back brace and having a short but sweet conversation with Bruce, who confirms that he made it safely to his west coast facility. He spends the rest of the night at work on his prototype or hunched at his drafting table.

In the morning he’s still in the workshop, having made a makeshift bed on an empty table. He sits on it now, legs dangling over the side as HUDs move seamlessly around him showing the updates for the day. He’s looking at a financial chart for the quarter when his attention is caught by the news broadcast.

“...attended, also, by Pepper Potts. As the CEO of Stark Industries she has ushered in new life into the corporation.” The news anchor narrates as they show Pepper walking down a carpet to an event dressed warmly for the weather. The scene cuts to Pepper at a podium, giving a speech, her voice muted as the anchor continues to talk over her. “Under her leadership, Stark’s profits have surged amidst political rumors and unsuccessfully bids from such high profile rivals as Roxxon and OsCorp. Last night, she launched a new private scholarship fund for women interested in pursuing traditional STEM degrees along with announcing a new core program involving Stark’s Arc Reactor Systems for -”

“Freeze the frame.” Tony says, mouth full of waffle. Gooey syrup drips from the pastry that’s held above the plate, as the HUD glides in front of him. The frame is of Pepper, standing tall behind the dark podium. She’s frozen mid speech, hand in the air. Tony swirls the waffle end of his fork at the screen before taking the bite. “Bottom left.”

The woman in black sits in the frame, watching Pepper speak. Tony hums, contemplative.

“JARVIS open a new file, dub it, hmm, Paint it Black. Keep notes if she shows up to anymore functions.”

“Of course, sir.”

She pops up from time to time as the year goes by. A moment in Spain, a glimpse in Italy, a near collision in Japan. It’s always just a glance, a taste, and one memorable time, a scent, before she’s gone again and Tony doesn’t pursue. Doesn’t think the effort is worth it though he has JARVIS keeping tabs. She does appear at more Stark events but he never sees her, always just misses her. The seasons change, winter to spring, to summer, to fall. Suddenly it’s raining and October and Tony finds himself in Paris when he sees her again.

He’s finished a particularly hard day- a factory just south of the city had fallen behind on deadline and to catch up they had cut corners in standards. His head aches from the jilting mixture of French and English, of the terrified looks he had received from the site managers. He’s in a hired car when he thinks he sees her. She stands at an intersection, a dark umbrella in her hand as she looks up to the glowing lights decorating the street. She’s absently arranging the scarf at her neck that looks more for show then for warmth before casually glancing back at him. She freezes. Then there’s the arch of a brow, and the tilt of her lips and it confirms what he suspects. The light changes and she still stands there, looking at him as Parisians stream by.

She’s calm, waiting.

“I’ll get off here. Just head to the hotel.” He says as he opens the door and the coolness of the evening hits him.

“Mr. Stark-” The driver starts but with a smart clap the door is closed, the light is green and horns begin blaring from frustrated drivers. His driver takes off and she stays still as he approaches, his boots making sharp rapping sounds on the cobblestone and concrete.

They look at each other, neither of them speaking as pedestrians walk by. Her umbrella covers the both of them as they move toward the center of the sidewalk instead of its edge. She’s in flats this time, meaning he no longer has to look up but only at her. The light changes to red and traffic resumes going against them. He’s the one to speak first.

“What are you doing here?”

“I am standing near a light.” She responds. Her accent has changed from the previous times they’ve met, her words now flavored with the smooth tilt of French.

“I noticed. Your standing at the light was what caught my attention...” He trails off waiting for her name.

“Loren.” She offers after brief hesitation.

“Lauren, Loren,” He smiles around the name. “I was wondering if you would be interested in having dinner with me.”

Her laugh is abrupt and tapers off as few people look to them. She can’t hide the smile from her eyes when she says in disbelief, “Dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Do you make a habit of accosting women you have a fancy for? What do you know of me, Stark?”

“For one, I know that you know my name which is...” He travels off and nods his head when she calls him Tony. “And I know that you enjoy travelling or at least travel as we have met several times and I just now got your name. So, what do you say? Drinks? Dinner?”

“Drinks.”

With a clap of his hands, he grins at her, undisturbed by her mildly surprised expression, saying. “Drinks, it is then.”

They end up in a wine bar and spending the night talking away. Tony is enthusiastic and Loren is reserved but by the end of the night, he gets her to talk. She’s a few years younger than his spry forty-three- she’s thirty-six and has dual degrees in Classics and History. She’s a consultant- but won’t say where- and yes, she does like to travel. She dodges his questions on her consultancy and instead, questions him about his own life. How he’s gotten along since saving the President of the United States(The highlight of which is that he was allowed to custom build a new Air Force One), what he thought of the tabloid gossip that Captain America was really Steve Rogers (no comment) and his opinion on the Attack on London.

“You’re quiet.” She says, in to the early morning. She’s resting her head upon her hand and curled in her chair, very much like a cat. Tony is across from her, staring at the liquid in his glass as if it will give him the answers. She straightens when she grabs her glass, swirls and drinks. She reaches for the bottle and frowns when she sees that it is empty. “Should I have not asked about London?”

“No,” Tony says straightening and clearing his throat. “No. It’s a valid question. I just.”

For the first time in the evening he looks like he’s at a loss.

“You do not have to answer me.”

“It’s an easy answer: Thor should have invited me to the party.” The serious tone elevates to a more jovial one. Tony drinks the last of glass saying, “I brought the party last time, it was his turn.”

From about the bar, the barkeep calls out to them and Loren nods her head at him and replies smoothly back. She stands, her hand out to Tony.

“Come, they are closing.”

They grab their things and head into the frigid morning, Loren tapping her umbrella against her boots in contemplation on if she should open it. There’s a fine mist falling and after a moment’s thought, pops the umbrella open. Tony pulls out his phone, the brightness of the screen making him wince.

“I enjoyed myself,” She says,

Just as he says, “Would you like me to take you back?”

She frowns at him.

“Your hotel. I can take you back to your hotel.” He clarifies.

“I will walk there myself.”

“You’re not walking, not in this. Come on.” He holds up his phone to his ear and she exhales, the chill making it to be a cloud of steam.

His car comes and they do not speak on the car ride over. When they get to the hotel, before the driver opens the door, she looks to Tony, squeezes his hand, thanks him and departs. Tony looks at his hand after they drive off, curling and uncurling his fingers in thought. When Tony goes to sleep that night, it is to the sound of the name Loren on his lips.

“It’s good to be home boys.”

The duffel bags bounce on the floor as Tony grins as he’s taking his sunglasses off and opening his arms wide as if he could hug the whole of Manhattan. His R&D floor is the way he left it- a perfectly ordered mess. Dum-E looks excited to meet him, rolling up quickly raising his lone arm to get a high five.

“Welcome home, sir.” JARVIS greets, switching on several screens that had been idle in his absence.

“Got any updates for me?” Tony gives the high five and Dum-E preens in his own way.

“Several, shall we order this from Pedestrian to Critical or vice versa?”

“Hit me with your best shot.” Tony says and sits on one of the steel tools with wheels and with a push, glides across the floor to another table that’s littered with parts. There are bits of schematics on the table, along with various bolts and bits.

“Pedestrian it is then. It is nearly time for Iron Patriot’s maintenance. I have already alerted the Colonel for his appointment.”

“I thought we already did that JAR, he came in last month.” Tony opens one of two drawers on the side of the tablet, he makes 'ah hah' ha when he pulls out a bag of chocolate covered raisins.

“He did, but that was before his run in with Dr. Doom’s bots. His remote system has never quite recovered from their interference.”

“You know what I’m thinking?” He questions as he tosses the raisin into his mouth and it clacks amongst his teeth before he bites down.

“Total systems wipe?”

“Bingo!”

“Thank you, sir. I will alert the Colonel that his appointment will be longer than previously expected.”

Tony grins at the bag of raisins as several HUDs come alight near his station.

“What’s next on the forecast?”

“I am unsure how to classify this information, thus I have labelled it Critical Pedestrian,”

Tony interjects and draws the word out saying, “Okay.”

“You have given me permission to track a woman-”

“Loren.”

“- a Miss Loren but I have discovered something most curious, sir. She is either in possession of a decommissioned Concorde, or in fact, might not be entirely human.”

“Run that by me one more time.”

“Miss Loren may not be human.” JARVIS states and to illustrate his point, he brings up a tangent of screens to encircle Tony, who with raisin midway to his mouth, plops it in and chews slowly.

“Give me the rundown.”

Several panels stack on top of the other, the first being an image of him and Loren. Its security footage of her standing at the entrance of her hotel, watching his car pull away.

“The time stamp I have of you leaving is at 02:35 Central European Time. SHIELD’s system concurrently at this time flagged a situation as being suspicious thus it caught my attention. Looking through their security footage, their system has picked her up at being in Madripoor-” The next screen Tony flips through shows Loren clearly standing in a shadowed alcove with several men. “at 09:50 Singapore Time. There is a seven hour difference between the locations but these two events are running at the same time.”

“Wasn’t Madripoor a SHIELD event?” Tony asks as he pulls out a tablet and pulls up an itinerary. “I remember Fury mentioning this.”

“Was SHIELD involved in its orchestration? Yes, this was a fete hosted by an Agent in order to draw out several of the criminal bosses that govern the area. But sir, this is still problematic. She,” The stacked files spread into a web of nine HUD panels. “seems to have the ability to be in several places she should not physically have the ability to be in. My two topmost right screens are of Madripoor. The rest were taken at hosted Stark events or events monitored by SHIELD during the time in which you slept and travelled back to the city of New York.”

A knot settles in his stomach, and to fight the wave of bitterness, Tony eats several raisins at a time.

“Is there a possibility that she’s just SHIELD?” He asks. “This wouldn’t be first time.”

There’s a considering pause from JARVIS.

“That is a possibility as I have not cracked the extent of SHIELD’s agent operational standards. So far one can assume that she is very similar to our own Agent Romanoff.”

“Keep it flagged,” Tony says pushing up from the table and bating the screens away. “Updates on Loren are to be considered semi-daily.”

“Understood. Would you like to know of the Critical news, sir?”

“Is it urgent?” He asks, scratching the back of his head. He suddenly yearns for a hot shower and to not be in his workshop.

“It is critical.”

Tony sighs, rubbing his face, he says, “Alright, hit me with your best shot.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never had one.” He says and he can’t stop smiling as his hands unconsciously play with his phone at the diner table. Loren sits across from him on the cracked leather seat, unable to hide her smile. She wraps her lips around the straw and drinks long pulls of chilled milk, chocolate and ice cream.

“They do not have this where I am from- I don’t think it occurred to anyone that it could be an option.” She says after she drains the tall glass. She picks up the metal tin and pours the rest of the milkshake in. They sit together in companionable silence, the clatter of dishes and orders being called filling in the void between them. Tony watches her, looking for anything to tip him off to show that she is a part of SHIELD. He pushes down that melancholy, tries to not to focus on how this might just be another repeat of Natalie.

“Does something trouble you?” Loren asks with the glass in hand, straw stained with red lipstick still near her lips.
“Can I ask you something?” He asks and she nods.

Then she waits. And waits. But he can’t come up with a question to ask.

“Tony,” She says his name and the fact she calls him Tony versus Stark automatically brings a smile, though not quite so happy, to his lips. “What is the question?”

“Do you actually like seeing me or are you being put up to it.”

The question is so high school it makes him cringe and he doesn’t look to her but focuses on his phone. Sliding the home screen icon up and down. She audibly swallows and then her nails are pressing into his hand as her hand covers his. Her grip is strong as she pulls the phone away from him.

“I’m up here if you would like me to answer your question,” Her tone is feigned boredom laced with agitation. Tony looks up to her and neither of them say anything. She doesn’t speak until it’s audibly clear that she’s out of milkshake, and she puts the glass on to the table with a clink. “I will admit I saw you initially as an irritation.”

“Uh huh.”

“But I clearly do not as I am sitting in a place that I fear has several health code violations against it.”

Tony laughs and Loren just watches. She ends up ordering another shake, and Tony orders a burger and they spend the evening watching people walk by the window of their booth.

“What are you smiling about?” Tony asks at the end of their impromptu meeting. Loren takes the spoon and eats the last spoonful of shake. Tony narrows his eyes and then laughs again. “You really like milkshakes.”

The smile disappears and Loren looks conflicted before shyly admitting, “I am happy you showed me this.”

“You ever had a banana split?”

“Banana split?” She asks, her curiosity piques and Tony grins.

“You still busy? I can show you a place.”

Her smile transforms into a grin that that makes him lose his breath.

Its three days before Halloween and Tony is at a fundraiser event in Taiwan. It’s a charity auction, the proceeds being spread out amongst charities dedicated to literacy. He’s surrounded by people who either claim to know him or he doesn’t know. He’s frustrated, polite, but frustrated- Pepper had bowed out of this function at the last minute and he had stepped in. As he looks around the room, glass in hand, dark suit pristine, he has to admit though, the venue is nice, decorated in rich tapestries and plant life. He also has an eye on one of the items up for auction- a vintage car that looks convincingly to be one of his father’s early prototypes.

He finishes his glass, unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt when he hears someone laughing. Following the sound, he sees Loren hosting a small group, nodding every so often to what another person is saying. She’s wearing color for once- she’s worn color, he has to remind himself, but it was never dominate- it’s green and it suits her. The dress cuts her knees. There’s a gold belt about her waist and a large dominating gold collar that reaches near to her jaw and extends to nearly cover her shoulders. She’s the tallest in her group and is able to clearly see over the next tallest but she doesn’t see him.

In a sea of nobodies, the sight of somebody spurs him into action.

“Excuse me, excuse me- hey!” The sea of bodies temporarily part and Loren looks at him in surprise, the woman next to her who was talking, pauses when she sees Tony and smiles wide in recognition. In her own form fitting red number, she purposely angles herself at him and she opens her mouth to speak but Tony beats her to the punch. “No,” The other woman’s smile wilts. “Not you. You. Yes, you. You in the green dress and the... legs.”

Tony lingers on the word as he watches Loren say her goodbyes and extracts herself from her group.

“You get taller and taller.” Tony remarks, as he definitely has to look up to see her now. She makes a confirming noise as she brushes a stray hair back behind her ear, the rest of it falling in soft cascading waves off one shoulder.

“Is there something you are in need of, Mr. Stark?” Her tone is cool though there is familiarity in her gaze. A small smile begins to slowly bloom as he talks.

“Yes, there is something I am need of, can I talk to you-” Tony begins and is immediately cut off by loud laugh that makes his skin prickly in familiarity. Loren’s face shutters and a clammy hand clasps him on the shoulder and John Hammer pulls himself into the conversation. He’s thinner than before, cheeks more gaunt; darkness about the eyes but it’s still the same John. He’s in a sharp grey suit to contrast Tony’s dark. Hair slicked back, his hand still hasn’t left Tony’s shoulder as Tony looks between it and John, expecting him to the get the social clue of Let Go but he’s too busy giving Loren a once over, smile still on his face while her’s is carefully blank.

“Look what the cat dragged in. It has been a while hasn’t Anthony?” The shark grin is still plastered on his face when he looks at Tony and Tony doesn’t hide the confused expression on his face.

“Hammer? What- Shouldn’t you be camping out in a six by eight with a piece of chalk?”

Hammer’s laugh clatters around them as if he had held a bag of marbles and let go. “Ha, always such a kidder Tony-” He looks to Loren in agreement and is met with disinterest, the laugh ebbs away. “He’s such a jokester. Always been. Can never take him seriously.”

Tony smiles without mirth and Hammer’s hand falls away as he says, “I wasn’t joking.”

“Let’s put it this way- you’re not the only one who powerful friends. Greased the wheels a little, did a bit of lining-”

“Are you admitting to bribing the system, Hammer? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

“Way to kill the mood,” Hammer says smiling wide, he glances at Loren. “It was nice to see you again Tony. I won’t be stepping foot back onto the ole red, white and blue but I’m sure you’ve already got it handled.” There’s a frustration laces to his words. “But I’m not here talk to you. I’m here to talk to-”

“No,” Tony gives his own smile. “I was talking to her first, Justin. Loren, if you could follow me-”

“It’s a free country-”

“Technically we’re on foreign soil.”

“Allied soil.”

“Are you seriously getting into technicalities with me because last time I checked you couldn’t tell a technicality from actually breaking the law.”

“What’s that suppose to mean, Tony? You’re not the only big dog in the room.”

“Big dog in the room? Hammer, what year are you living in.”

“She still has free will. Come on, what do you say. Me? You? We could-”

He stops short at the realization that Loren has moved on. She’s standing a few feet away, drinking a glass of champagne. Tony huffs, cards his fingers through his hair at the withering look she gives both of them. Hammer yammers on as if Tony is actually listening to him. He pats his once rival on the back and moves on. He stands next to Loren, unwilling to give up the company of the person he knows even if that person is irritated with him. The auctioneer comes on stage, gaining everyone’s attention.

“The auction will begin in five minutes, five minutes. Make sure all participants have a number and are ready to bid. “The auctioneer goes on to explain the rules and Tony takes out a folded piece of paper that’s meant to act as his paddle.

He looks to Loren, trying to break the tension. “Are you going to bid?”

“I’m not an object.” She tells him coolly, and he grimaces. She stares him down until he says it.

“I’m sorry.” He says and then repeats it again with more feeling.

“I have heard many say that I should record it if I ever heard an apology from you.” She leans against him just as the auctioneer comes out to the stage. His arm feels electric in the contact and he revels in it. They stand together and watch the first item come onto the stage.

“Want to wish me luck?” Tony asks further into the evening when it’s time for him to bid on his old man’s car. Loren only drinks from her glass, and then she leans down to him.

“Luck is for those who lack confidence.” She says and whispers into his ear. “Are you lacking confidence, Tony?”

He turns his head, their lips scarcely apart. “Never.”

She grins and softly presses her lips against his. The contact is electric. It narrows the world down to two, the others in the crowd filtered out in the wave of warmth that floods his system, his lips acting like the flashpoint. His eyes fall shut as she presses a little bit more into him. The kiss is chaste if that’s what he can call it- she doesn’t open her lips for him, doesn’t give him her tongue. She just presses her lips against his and he can feel one of her hands wrap around his wrist before interlacing their fingers together. He goes to deepen it, turning toward her to get the angle right, licking his lips and by accident, licking her own which causes a spark to shoot to his groin and get a sharp intake from her. She squeezes the hand that hold his tightly briefly and he revaluates the kiss as being chaste- it’s restrained. As she pulls away and straightens, not telling go of his hand, he feels hot all over and takes a deep breath. He isn’t courting her, she’s courting him. The thought of which makes his mouth dry and the hand she holds sweat.

“You should bid.” She says and it brings the rest of the auction into focus. It’s as if someone has brought sound back into the room, and it filters quickly back into him and nearly overwhelms him.

“Do I hear another bid?” The announcer calls out, the mic sounding scratchy. Tony’s arm shoots upward as he shakes his head and blows air out of his mouth. He swallows a few times, swallowing the saliva that came before. He shakes his collar, trying to release some of the heat he feels and a few other patrons are looking to them, and he gives them a face and a shrug. Their hands remained linked for the rest of the night.

“Are we ready?”

Iron Patriot hangs on a winch in the R&D floor, exoskeleton bared to the world. Lined in neon colors, the gutted frame looks fragile. Tony is crouched near its right knee, making sure the plug that feeds in to the frame is in securely. The tables and the ground around Patriot are littered in a fan of parts- bolts here, tools there. The sound system is pulsing with a song that was dedicated to him after the Event.

“Diagnostics have come back clean. Operating System: WAR MACHINE is ready for manual install.” JARVIS informs as several panels come alight around the mechanic, dosing his work place in ambient light. Tony stands, wiping his brow and then moving before his creation. He had been irritated when Rhodey had taken his work, stolen it, on that summer night all those years ago. He had been frustrated when Rhodey had given it to his employer. Then angry when Hammer, of all people, had attempted to update what at the time he considered perfection. He had been trying to make a statement at the time, Iron-Man-and-Tony-Stark-are-One Also-Known-As-No-I’m-Not-for-Sale, but Rhodey had simply gone around it. In fact, he’d smashed it and nearly smashed their relationship in the process but he couldn’t blame Rhodey.

He still cringes at his birthday security footage.

Tony folds an arm over his stomach, rests an elbow on his hand and taps a finger on his chin as he thinks. The armor as it stands before him now suddenly ages in front of him. His eyes wander over it as he tries to sort out how to fix that.

“What are you thinking of, sir?” JARVIS asks.

“Christmas.” Tony answers. He claps his hands, breathes out. “Alright, let’s do this boys.”

Getting into the suit is an exercise in patience and balance. The suit is hanging just a scant inch off the floor, and in order for Tony to get into the suit, he needs to place his feet and hands into the boots and gloves without falling out. Outside of these four points of contact, the rest of the suit is a flat surface with curled edges. By the time he’s in, the suit swinging and he feels the strain to keep himself in.

“Close it.” He grits out. The suit hums as JARVIS feeds it power and quietly the legs and arms snap shut. He watches the chest piece lower slowly, and the mask standing resolutely upward. “Yep, Christmas. I know what I’m getting him for Christmas.”

He exhales loudly as the mask firmly latches down. It’s quiet in the suit, quiet and dark. The only light filtering in is from the visor and he hears the low hum of the system booting the power. He’s suddenly thirsty, and a few fingers tap the pads in the gloves as he waits. He blows air from between his teeth as he pointedly doesn’t look out the visor but stares at a red flashing light near the bottom of helmet.

“Any day now- there you are.” He exhales as the light becomes green and he can’t help but chuckle when JARVIS plays the start up music from Windows 95.

“How are you doing sir?” JARVIS’ voice submerges him in sound as several panels come to life.

“Better, alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Tony loses himself in his work as he and JARVIS get down to business recalibrating the suit. It’s a process he enjoys and a good few hours stroll by without his notice. When they’re done for the day, his legs are restless, even though he had been able to walk about the room and at one point, hover, and he’s still thirsty. His hands are tingling but he figures its due to circulation- he had modified this suit for Rhodey after all, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t fight in it, if needed. Tony has Dum-E hoist him back onto the winch.

“Okay, wrap it up for this evening I believe we’re done here.”

“We just need to restart once more to secure the updates, sir.” JARVIS reminds him.

“Okay, initiate reboot.”

JARVIS says his goodbyes and Tony can systematically feel every portion of the suit power down. Every portion that shuts down suddenly feels cold, his hands especially and hisses at the sensation. He thrums his fingers in the gloves, and does a little shake in the carapace when the power is fully out.

“Okay,” He breathes out. “Any day.”

He does the same thing he did before; focusing on the red light that signifies the power is there. The light flutters momentarily before turning green and he can feel energy pulsing into the metalwork.

“Sir, when we are done-” The voice is cut abruptly as power fails in the system. Tony jerks in the suit, asking for his personal A.I., the metal swaying as he looks away from the light that’s now dark and stares out of the visor at his empty workspace.

“JARVIS?” He asks and he can feel the energy drain out the suit and he jerks again, deepening the sway.

“No, no. JARVIS.” Tony calls out and the coldness is spreading up his arms. “JARVIS can hear me?”

He calls for his A.I. again as the chill rushes into his chest and he gasps, extremities clenching as he focuses on the dark shape that’s beyond his visor. He breathes shallowly as he looks away from the light, and looks around the helmet his thoughts racing as he looks for the emergency button that he has installed in his suits in case of emergencies and he can’t get out and it hits him like a freight train when he realizes there isn’t one in this suit because this is not his suit, this is not his suit and he when he looks up, he can’t breathe. His visor is suddenly bright, too bright as he stares out to fire, and light and the darkness of space and countless stars and chitauri are flying right at him and he’s insignificant in the their eyes and-

He gasps like a drowning man when the suit shudders open and he falls into Rhodey’s arms and he grasps and clings to Rhodey as if he is the only thing keeping him from drowning in a sea of sensation and memories that refuse to let go and he can hear Rhodey in the distance saying his name over and over, but he grounds himself in the feeling of Rhodey’s strong arms around him and he closes eyes and focuses on his friend’s strong arms.

“I got you.” Rhodey says, lowering them both down to the concrete. “I got you.”

“What he feels is fleeting.” There’s a clink of glass, and Loren doesn’t look away from the window to the source of the sound. She looks tired, and what he could only call morose. She finishes with, “He is too busy living in the moment to realize that there are grander schemes one can look to.”

They’re in London, in a cafe slotted away from prying eyes. There are few other couples in the building but they are spread about the cafe in their own world. Their table is covered in china: there are two pots, one filled with the tea, the other water. There are smaller pots of milk and sugar. There are scones and sandwiches spread throughout. Her hand is gripping the tea spoon that’s in the cup but she hasn’t been stirring for the last few moments.

“Do you two know each other?” Tony asks, looking from her to what is happening outside the window. Thor and Jane are sitting in the neighboring cafe across the narrow street. Jane is laughing, while Thor looks curiously at what is on his plate. It’s strange for Tony to see Thor so...casual. The few times he had seen the God, he had always been dressed for battle or something similar in attire. To see him dressed like he is one of them feels...off. Wrong. It’s as if he’s watching a predator pretending it is prey.

Loren shrugs with her shoulder, “We are familiar.”

“Familiar?”

“Familiar.” Loren turns to look at him and without breaking eye contact, drinks her tea. “I have been meaning to ask something. I confess it has been bothering me.”

“What would that be?” Tony asks as he takes a sandwich and takes a bite.

“What were you going to ask me that night at the auction?” She asks and takes a bite of a scone.

“I,” Tony smiles into his glass, his fingers taping on the table. “I was going to ask you to dinner later.”

Loren stops chewing briefly before resuming, a move Tony catches but Loren doesn’t acknowledge that it happened, instead she looks out the window and Tony bites his lip before continuing.

“You don’t have to accept.”

“No,” She says around a swallow, there’s a tremble in her tone that she looks briefly betrayed by. She blinks several times, and gives him a tight smile. “I wasn’t expecting such a request.”

“So, it’s a no?’

“I would enjoy dinner.” She says clearly, her lips curve into a smile.

“Here,” He pulls out his phone and slides it across to her. She looks down at it and then back at him.

“What is this?” She asks, picking it up. The phone is sleek, light weight. The emblem of the arc reactor is carved into the back, and when she sees it, she looks to it and then his chest.

“It’s a phone.”

“Ah,” She says in faux shock. “I would have never guessed.”

“The model is not on the market. It’s technically still in development until a friend gives the go ahead for us to dominate the telecommunications sector. Here,” Tony reaches blindly and unlocks the screen. “Input your information and we can set up dinner.”

She leaves some time later, claiming she has an important meeting to catch. Tony lets her go, but not before grabbing her hand, squeezing it once, making her flush. He waits a certain amount of time in the cafe after she’s gone before he puts the phone to his ear and makes a call.

“Good morning, sir.” JARVIS intones.

“I need you to do a search for me.” He says and gives the name to JARVIS to research. He gets up from the booth and makes his way outside.

Thor is ecstatic to see him. He hails him before even gets through the door, his arms up, his smile wide. Jane next to him doesn’t look as jovial, she looks happy to see him, but there’s still an undercurrent of where she is unsure of how to approach him. He knows of her work- he read it in the briefing Coulson had given him before the Event in New York, and he read her reports before and after about the Event in London- but it still doesn’t make him feel comfortable. She doesn’t say it as much as project it: What did you see on the other side? He knows she has forty questions lined up and the only thing stopping her from doing it is the fact she knows it would make him upset. It hadn’t stopped her from asking Darcy to (laughably) attempt to force his records out of SHIELD but she still had tried.

“Thor,” He smiles around the name and grasps one of the big man’s hands. Thor clasps both hands around his one telling him to sit down. He does so, dragging the chair out so he is to Thor’s left and across from Jane. She’s still smiling and she waves.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Tony nods his head to her and then turns to focus on Thor. “I was walking around and I thought I saw you and I went, hm. Is that Thor? Why, it is Thor, I should go see how he is.”

“It is has been too long.” Thor says, still smiling. He seems so large for the table they’re all sitting at. “You should come and visit more often, I see you on the television screen but that is not the same as being your presence.”

“I’ll figure it out.” Tony replies.

“So what brings you out here?” Jane asks, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Is there anything happening?”

“No, there’s nothing happening. I just,” Tony pauses and pulls out his phone. “I have a question for you. I ran into someone and I was wondering if you knew them.”

“If I knew of someone?” Thor questions. “I do not know many from this realm, but I will do my best.”

“Do you know of, a,” Tony looks at his phone, suddenly nervous. “Loren Olsen?”

“Olsen.” Thor says the word and repeats it again as if tasting it. He grasps his chin as he contemplates. Jane looks contemplative.

“Olsen, Son of Olè.” She offers and then pulls out her own phone, quickly typing in a search. “I think I know this.”

“Been taking lessons?” Tony asks and she nods in distraction.

“After I went, how could I not? Here we go.” She says and both he and Thor look to her. She looks to Thor when she says, “Óláfr?”

“His name brings no immediacy in my mind.” Thor drinks and looks to his companion in arms. “But if I recall anything of importance, I will ask Jane to contact you.”

They chat for a bit before Tony excuses himself. When he leaves, Thor gives him a warning as he walks through the door.

“Be wary, Stark. If your Loren Olsen truly is one of Asgard, you are dancing with dangerous folk.”

“I’ll remember that.” Tony says and is out the door.

“JARVIS.” Tony calls out as he puts on his coat.

“Yes, sir?”

“Compile for me Norse myths, giving points for each major story and character throughout.” He’s grabbing his wallet off of the bed side dresser. He walks into his bathroom, the lights turning on without prompting to check himself over in the mirror.

“Shall I also include annotations from SHIELD’s files on both Thor Odinson and Loki Odinson?”

Tony stills, head thrown back, in mid motion. “Repeat that.”

“Shall I include annotations from SHIELD’s files on both Thor Odinson and Loki Odinson?”

Loki Odinson. Loren Olsen.

He straightens and hisses as heat suddenly wells in his head as he tightly closes his eyes and sighs.

“JARVIS run a facial scan of Loren again in the system, apply it to all fields.”

“Again sir?”

“All fields, male and female. With the Norse myths, annotate anything that correlates with Thor and Loki. Got that?”

“Already searching.”

“Good boy,” The lights turn off as Tony leaves the room. “I’ll be back late.”

He enjoys dinner with Loren during the first week of November. They dine at a restaurant he hasn’t been to in ages and when he gets his food, he wonders why as its fantastic. They talk of politics and work. Tony discusses what he can publicly share; Loren speaks of what she knows of his work and others. There isn’t an immediate charge quite like when Tony had first met Bruce but there’s something there that’s connecting the two of them. He had worried himself that day of what to say or do, unsure if he should just be the playboy or just be himself and he’s happy with the result. They move from work and discuss their pleasures. Tony goes into detail of his latest project involving cloaking, and Loren looks surprised.

“Stealth?” She asks, raising a brow over her glass of wine. “I assumed you for one to be ostentatious.”

“What? Just because I like to give a show doesn’t mean I can’t go without it.” He shrugs. “Change of pace.”

“When has Tony Stark gone into a situation in secret?” She’s still looking at him sceptically.

He doesn’t speak of Miami, just grins, teasing, “A have a little more faith.”

The night ends much too soon and when they depart Loren gives him another kiss.

Tony ignores the feeling of unease and dreams.

He doesn’t have time to ask JARVIS what his search has brought up. Hammer drones rain in New York, their target: Pepper. Tony, Rhodey, and eventually Thor, spend a sleepless week tracking down the ex-business rival and ultimately, they can’t take him in.

“What do you mean I’m not allowed in?” Tony yells into the communication chip in his helmet, he’s hovering several thousand feet in the air over a lush forest in central Europe. Rhodey is some distance away while Thor is besides him with Mjolnir.

“Tony, I have the president on the line. He’s saying if we go in, we’re starting war with Latveria. The ambassador made it extremely clear that their president isn’t allowing anyone in.”

“He won’t know I’ve been here.” Tony argues.

“Tony whoever this guy is, he has a live feed on our locations. He knows.” Rhodey takes a calming gulp and continues, “We gotta let it go.”

“No.”

“Tony, we can’t go. I know you’re all for crossing enemy lines but there’s more at stake here.” Rhodey reasons.

“We must stand down.” Thor says. “We will get him by other means.”

Tony curses, turns and with a burst of power speeds off.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Pepper looks at him, lying in the hospital bed, more fragile than he’s ever seen her be. “I’m fine Tony.”

He sighs heavily when he sits in the chair besides her bed. “If there’s anything you need just tell me.”

Pepper bites her lip, her eyes suddenly wet as she looks at him. Tony freezes, as she looks up at the ceiling, the censors’ picking up her heart’s acceleration. Her nails dig into the hospital blanket and he closes his eyes tightly as he suddenly knows what’s about to come.

Her voice breaks on the last word. “Can you leave?”

“Of course.”

Tony is a bottle and a half deep before Loren takes it away from him. They’re sitting on his couch at two in the morning, other rather, she is on the couch and he is sitting on the shag carpeting. Her legs are curled beneath her on the leather cushion as she looks down at Tony, whose head rests on the cushion, neck at an odd angle to look up at her.

“You have had enough.” Loren says, holding his bottle hostage.

“No I haven’t, I can still remember the smell of the hospital.” He raises his arm up to her an angle, which he tracks with her eyes. “Give me.”

“No. What good would will wallowing in your misery do for you now besides giving you an undue headache?”

Tony winces. “You’re right; I’m too drunk for this. Where are you from again?”

“Why do you ask?”

“To remind myself to avoid the one place that hasn’t gotten with the times. It’s the twenty first century, not,” He tries to point at her, but his arm instead flops onto the cushion then back to the floor. “The eighteenth as your speech pattern seems to think.”

Loren exhales, giving him a patient look.

“Why did she cast you out?” She asks, her green eyes searching his face for answers.

“Hm?” He closes his eyes, listening.

“Why would she cast out the Man of Iron, the Golden Avenger from her bedside?”

The question weighs the mood in the room down. Tony resolutely stares at the ceiling, while Loren watches him, her nails clacking on glass. Tony sighs, deep, heavy and says, “If I am going to answer that, you owe me that bottle.”

The bottle is given.

“Pepper could handle this life.” Tony throws an arm out to the skyline. “But she couldn’t handle it when it got personal. Back then, the New York happened, she handled it. She was a part of it but removed- she knew of me, knew a few of us involved but that was it. It was personal, but it was manageable personal.”

Tony drinks heavily and hisses when he releases the bottle from his lips.

“Things got too personal when an old buddy of mine- I wouldn’t say buddy, I’d say asshole- came and blew up my house. You saw it, didn’t you? I was angry, no, furious at the time. I had a friend in a coma, I was having personal issues. Things compounded, I dared him to come for me. I knew the odds when I threw the die, I just wasn’t counting on him taking the table and throwing it when it was his turn to bat.”

Another drink.

“Anyway, he threw the table not at me, he threw it at her.” He swallows hard, reliving the moment of seeing Pepper chained to the apparatus. Of her skin on fire, molten, the look of agony on her face. “He knew that in order to get to me, he had to attack someone who wasn’t me because he knew, pfft, I didn’t care. I clearly didn’t care as I gave everyone my address. Long story short, a friend and I saved the day.”

“Pepper didn’t handle it well. She handled it. She was good. We were good. But you must have seen the headlines.”

“Headlines?” Loren asks, titling her head and narrowing her eyes. “Which ones?”

“Pep and I did great for a year. A year. No one bothered me; Rhodey- Iron Patriot- handled it. I took a sabbatical, was revaluating my life then boom. JARVIS, headlines.”

Loren stiffens as the HUDS fill the room, her spine stiff as she looks about quickly. Tony can’t help but chuckle as he pushes himself up off the floor and onto the couch. 

“Say hello JARVIS.”

“Good morning,” JARVIS greets, he then stacks several news headlines in front of them. “These are the headlines you were speaking of.”

With a flick of his wrist, they spread out, in a map of bold text. The headlines all read the same with minute variation: CEO OF STARK INDUSTRIES KIDNAPPED! IRON MAN SAVES DAY.

“Anyone else,” Tony rests his arms on his knees. “I told her anyone else, and they would have snapped. I think after the first most people would made a run for it but she didn’t run. It wasn’t until the last one,” The article at the bottom left is magnified. The headline is in fact a file, a collection of six images detailing an attack on Stark Industries and the kidnapping of Pepper by the hands of Dr. Doom. “That she couldn’t do it anymore.”

He repeats that phrase, rolls the words around his tongue as he brings up the memory of being on an aircraft coming home. Of being covered in grease, blood and sweat. Of Pepper lying on a stretcher, crying, looking at him, telling him she couldn’t do it anymore.

“She cast you out as she is reliving a previous nightmare.” Loren says and Tony nods. “We all have our own ways of coping, do we not? She needs her peace, you, need a bottle.”

“What do you do to cope?” Tony asks, looking at Loren who suddenly looks both uncertain and tired.

“I,” She drags the syllable out as she thinks and then settles on an answer. “Prefer physical exertion.”

“Really?” Tony gives her a surprised look and then drinks. “You throw things around? Take it out against a punching bag?”

“Yes, is it that surprising? There is something very primal about it. Seeing destruction laid about but at the same time, like other coping mechanisms there are draw backs.”

“Such as?”

“Well,” She pushes herself up from the couch. “My things will be broken. Similar to how you,” she takes the bottle from his hand again. “Will be sick upon the morn when the sun bathes you in her light.”

“You and your poetic tongue must realize you are not my father and thank god, or should I say gods at this point, for that. I’ve had more than enough of him for a lifetime.” Tony groans as he stands stretching his arms above his head. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

“I’m surprised,” Loren picks up her coat and slips on her flats near the elevator door. “I heard that you were notorious for bed sport.”

“I got tired of bed sport after I was in a meaningful relationship, and then the trauma of what followed after.” Tony leans against his wall, looking at her. “Are you asking to stay?”

“I simply made an observation.” Loren says as the elevator door opens without being called. She goes to walk inside but Tony’s hand stops her.

“Do I get a kiss?”

She indulges him.

JARVIS tells him in the morning, “Sir, I have a match.”

Doombots do not understand the concept of Thanksgiving. It’s the week of it- Monday- and they’ve descended upon the Stark Tower like angry bees protecting their hive. JARVIS is being pushed to his limits defending against near insurmountable distributed denial-of-service attacks. It’s a wonder that Tony is even able to keep going in the suit. The light architecture flutters sporadically as JARVIS navigates the fight for Tony along with fighting its own personal fight. Rhodey is not fairing much better but after Tony upgraded his suit’s security, he’s still hanging on.

“Tony, can you hear me?” Rhodey calls out, and Tony can see him at his peripheral standing on the roof of another building. He has five Doombots flying around like stubborn hornets, his Gatling gun seemingly doing nothing to them.

“I see them!” Tony says and releases a volley of heat seeking rockets and that hit. Rhodey cheers into the mic and Tony smirks just as something slams into his back. Even with the exoskeleton, Tony’s spine bends and system forcefully go offline and he’s free falling. It steals his breath as he blinks rapidly as he can feel the drag of gravity wrench his legs and arms upward as whatever is on his back weighs him down.

“JARVIS!” Tony shouts into the suits, his pulse racing. He shouts for his system again to come online, as he tries not to watch the New York skyline flyby as he falls down. His breath becomes shallow and quick as he tries to twist or turn to see what is on his back, and his skin itches, chafes in the armor, Goddamnit where was JARVIS? He calls out for a third time and suddenly, the pressure on his back twists and falls away. He bodily twists to look, sees the Doombot crumbling to piece. He twists back to look forward as he falls to the concrete below. He calls for JARVIS quietly, and like a switch, he’s back on. JARVIS floods his HUD in a wave of light and sound, but that doesn’t matter as he’s scant yards from the surface and with barely aimed precision the thrusters shutter on, and instead of falling face first into concrete, he’s able to avoid being painted onto the New York street.

Instead he just slams into a car. He hits the car so hard, its knocks JARVIS out of sync with him again as he flies through said car and begins rolling and twisting down the empty street. When he comes to a stop, it’s after a long, grinding skid that gouges the asphalt and leaves him half delirious and nauseous. He’s on his back, and his eyes are closed as he feels like he’s been scrambled in the metal suit. He can’t hear the outside world; he’s stuck in a dark suit where he can only hear the beating of his frantic heart that pushes the blood throughout his system. He calls for JARVIS again in the quiet.

JARVIS doesn’t answer but someone knocks.

He opens his eyes, looking through the visor and sees only dark hair and pale skin. He gulps around the name as he says it, “Loren.”

From what he can see beyond the dark spots that are dancing around in his vision is that she’s studying, analyzing. Then there’s the tell tale sound of metal bending. It makes him clench his jaw, the sound; it reminds him of when he first fought Thor, of the God’s strength as he punctured his suit’s arm in the forest. It reminds him of the failing infrastructure at Stark Industries back in California. It reminds him of failure. The mask just doesn’t bend back, it’s wretch off and it clatters somewhere else.

“Tony.” is what she says and like a magic word, the armor gives. The armor plating falls from his body and exposes him to the world. He weakly turns his head and looks at her. She’s crouched at his side, looking pristine amidst rubble and catastrophe. He offers a hand to her, and finds it to be warm, dry in comparison to his which is cold and slick with sweat. She pulls him up as if his weight were nothing, usually only just that hand. He takes a steadying breath, as his stomach churns and his eyes aches.

“Are you a part of this?” He asks, hands on his knees, breathing deeply in and out. The coldness is slowly seeping up to his elbows and knees.

“Pardon?”

“Are you helping them?” He swallows around the last word, and he would shake his head to clear it except he knows it won’t help the pounding tempo that’s playing inside. She looks at him in disbelief.

“What? I just availed you of your armor. How and why would I help ones such as them?” She holds an arm out to the street. “Did the fall hurt you more than you realize?”

“Cut the shit, I know who you are.” Tony swallows again, he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, Loren is staring at him with an unnerving intensity.

“I do not know what you speak of.”

Tony pushes himself up, rocking back on a foot as he a wave of vertigo hits me. He blinks at her awkwardly and she studies him intently.

“Don’t lie to me, Loren.” The way he says her name brings stillness to her body that looks and feels unnatural. It distantly reminds him of Thor and the he attempts to appear human but can’t. In him there is too much energy, in Loren, no, Loki, there now seems to be a void of it.

“Do you truly believe me so?” The pitch in her voice is altering from light to incrementally deeper. “That I would ally myself with such?”

The coldness has settles on his shoulder, leaching the warmth as its climbs down his chest and up his neck. Tony doesn’t think, he acts. He moves with purpose until he standing in Loren’s space, staring her down. His pupils blown wide as he takes in the minute features that look to be changing.

“What was your aim, huh? What do I have that could interest a God?”

“This is not the time for confusions and confessions, Stark.” Loren, now sounding truly like Loki says as she takes a step back. “Do you not remember you stand on a battlefield?”

Tony heart picks up as he breathes deeply through his nose, shoulders hunching. He’s unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

“I told you there that there was no such throne-”

Loki’s hand is around his bicep, fingers digging into his flesh with unnatural strength as he loses control for an instant saying, “I do not want a throne!”

The point of contact and Loki’s voice in his ear makes him drop away from the world. He drops. He’s cold. Frigid. His lungs are suddenly unable to get air as his body remembers that same pressure, that pressure that still clings to him even though he’s fallen, that is on his arm, being on his throat.

The cold freezes his chest; his lungs are unable to expand as the tempo in his head erupts. He can’t see. He's blinded with pain as he can feel his nerves come a light and he’s suddenly acutely aware of the cold of the November air as it feeds into his body like that of an unwarranted free fall from the side of a building, he gasps for air quick, fast, the same way in which he had done so between pleas for help to JARVIS during the free falling moment he had believed he wouldn’t come back. He might not come back, he might not back, the cold pierces every part of him except his head, his head is whirling, spinning equations, throwing inventions, throwing out anyway to fix this to fix this to fix this but he can’t fix this in free fall and he’s going to die before he do what’s right, he’s going to die before he can do what’s right, he’s going to die before he can what’s right, he’s going to die before he can’ do what’s right-

“Tony!” The scream rips throw the illusion of falling and he’s on the ground, back unfurled and his eyes burn as he stares into the winter sky that’s dark with storm clouds. His lungs ache suddenly unable to fill, his hands digging into gravel and asphalt, as his heels push into the earth and his neck wretches as he turns to the source of the scream.

Pepper is crouched by his side in white. As if his strings are cut, he collapses fully onto the earth. His breathe short and shallow; Pepper’s hands flutter his shoulders to his chest.

“Breathe, Tony,” Pepper is repeating over and over. “Breathe.”

“Loki,” He gasps out and that quick narrowing of eyes is all he needs for confirmation.

“Breathe,” Pepper’s voice says. “Breathe deep, hold, release.”

Thunder and lightning crackles and Tony breathes deep, holds and then releases as it rains water and technology.

He doesn't see her until near the end of the holiday season. He focuses foremost on recovery, beefing up his security systems and admitting he has a problem. He hasn’t told Thor. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t, but he hasn’t told anyone. It’s the day after Christmas and people are going crazy in the mall, and she standing at the makeup counter. She freezes when she sees him and he does the same, it’s a standoff that’s soundtrack includes Mariah Carey’s soaring Christmas vocals. Unlike the previous time, she goes to him.

“Are you better?” Her tone is quiet and he shrugs.

“Good as I can be.”

“May we speak in private?” She asks, and he can’t help but see it as impressive that she resolutely looks him in the eye instead of looking around. “I have matters to discuss you.”

This is a horrible idea, he knows this, but when has Tony Stark not been able to salvage a horrible situation? He lifts a shoulder and motions to the doors of the mall, saying, “I know of a good place to eat in here.”

“Are you asking me to dinner?” She asks, narrowing her eyes.

“You wanted some place private, why not eat.”

She releases a shuddering laugh that’s weak with nerves.

“You are so strange.”

Against common sense, their history and what Tony knows will be a painful retribution from a certain God, he starts seeing Loren, or rather Loki, again. It’s a relationship Tony doesn’t hide completely from his friends- Rhodey, Pepper and even Happy, are happy for him. But he can’t bring himself to tell them the truth. He knows there’s something Pavlovian behind it- if there’s a rule out there that can’t be broken, he’s legally (or maybe not so legally), broken it. He wouldn’t be Iron Man without this trait, he wouldn’t be Tony Stark. When asked if they are dating, Tony isn’t sure what to classify it as- Loki kisses him, closed mouthed, chaste- but that’s it. Loki won’t push further and Tony hasn’t budged. That hasn’t stopped him from pursuing his own means of personal release but it almost feels like the elephant in the room.

What is his relationship to Loki?

She or rather, He doesn’t stay on Earth. Those months where hasn’t seen him is because he’s physically gone- he’s in Asgard, Tony doesn’t know what for. Especially considering Loki is technically dead. He doesn’t ask though because A. it’s not his problem and B. if he’s being honest with himself, the way Jane describes travelling on the Bifrost, terrifies him. He’s up for going to Asgard one day but right now, he realizes he needs to relearn how to handle being on Earth before going up to the stars.

“We should do date night,” Tony says, holding up a piece of heavy parchment. There back the diner where Tony had first introduced milkshakes to Loren. The form of Loren sits across from him, a glass in front of her. “At this fundraiser.”

Loki looks at him with a raised brow. “What could possibly happen at this fundraiser that would constitute you asking me to attend this?”

Tony hands her the paper.

“Collection of Norse artifacts, many of which haven’t been seen in the public eye in years.” Tony says and he watches Loren become still.

“There will be nothing of import there.” Loki says, handing the paper back.

“I think you're just afraid.” Tony says, folding the paper and pocketing it.

“Afraid? Really?” She raises a brow. “How so?”

“Yea, you're just afraid that you're going to go out on a date with me and you're going to like it. You're going to enjoy yourself and you aren't going to know what to do about it.” Tony says. “Because you see, how else could you resist the charms of one such as I, along with knowledge of knowing I’ll be there and you’ll be surrounded by a bunch of history that’s conveniently connected to you.”

“My, my, my. Do you think of yourself so highly, Stark?”

“Yes.”

Loki sighs around a smile and Tony grins and pumps his fist.

“Is that a yes?”

“This will be a mistake,” Loki says smiling around the straw.

“That's what they all say until they realize just how I perfectly fit into their lives. Thursday, eight o'clock sharp. My place?”

“If you must insist,” Loki gets up from the faux leather seat and grabs her things. “If you must know, you have- we have been courting for some time. I do not know why now you must say we are on a date.”

“Dress in something nice?” Tony asks as it sinks in what Loki had just said.

Loki bends at the waist and whispers into Tony’s ear before leaving, “I will leave them salivating.”

“Well.” Tony clears his throat, his eyes bright. “That worked.”

The date is a success. Loki comes in a number that really does leave him and others salivating and there are a few items that do catch Loki’s eye. Tony considers the night a success.

“Are you coming back?” Tony asks when they’re about to leave. Loki is standing near the entrance of the museum. She looks at him, her eyes unreadable.

“Yes.”

There’s a tension between them as they slip between the elevator doors. Tony’s arm dipping dangerously low across Loki’s lower back, his fingers thrumming against her hip. They are melded together, hip to hip. Tony’s shoulder nestled beneath Loki’s own, bone pressing into soft tissue. Loki’s chuckle is deep, throaty, as she bends her head to his ear.

“What does one such as yourself do in these moments, Stark?” She asks, damn well knowing the answer. The memories come to him anyway, of the women he’s seen and visited in his life. He’s covered these walls in skin, in sweat, in hurried kisses and the stripping of cloth. In those moments, he had been the one in control, the one to press another into cool metal. In the glare of the light, he feels the prickling sensation that he, himself, is being pinned by the gaze Loki gives.

Red lips moving, she looks to him in the reflection, whispering questions into his ear. The elevator lifts, a soft press of pressure that normally he wouldn’t feel except he’s sensitive all around. Acutely aware of the way Loki presses into him, how his own fingers burrow into her side. Her warm breath on his cheek makes him flush.

“Shall we continue this, or shall I leave you this night?” She asks, as the elevator comes to a stop. The doors do not open, instead JARVIS keeps them closed as if he too were listening, as if he were complicit in her plans.

“Explain.” He says, and he swallows hard. Loki’s dark lips slash across pale skin in its wreath of dark hair. A darkened nail taps along Tony’s opposite cheek.

“We continue this how we are,” Loki begins. Her voice caressing his skin and bringing up a dark flush as his pupils dilate. He’s throat is dry and when he swallows, he closes his eyes, steadying himself and then groans low at the sight besides him. The voice that continues Loki’s sentence is deeper, huskier. “Or, we can continue this in a different manner.” Loki stands besides no longer feminine but masculine, the sultry makeup from before still highlighting his features. Her, now his, ensemble still slim fitting and accenting a thin waist and full hips and shoulders. In the next blink he is gone and replaced by her. “Or, I will take my leave and see you another time.”

The elevator door opens then, showing the palatial living room of his first private floor. The lights are dim, the room warm.

“Stay,” The word tumble out in a rush. “I want you to, I want you to stay.”

“How should I stay?” Loki’s question lingers as she pulls away. She moves from him and the bright light of the elevator and into the warm room. His side feels cold without her there. He swallows, blinks and she no longer stands before the billionaire but him.

“Have you lost your tongue?” Loki asks, draping the coat that had been on her arm onto a chair. The heels on his feet click smartly as they pace on smooth marble as he disregards the scarf about his neck. Loki looks about the room in faux boredom saying, “Perhaps-”

The pacing stops when Tony says, “Keep it.”

Loki raises a brow and Tony steps out of the light of the elevator. The doors close smoothly behind him and douse him in the dark.

“Articulate, Stark,” The God says as he slinks forward, the heels no longer making sound. He stalks around the vigilante hero, towers over him as he begins pulling his gloves off one finger at a time. “If you have want of something, you must ask.” The leather slaps the ground as Loki’s lips come back to Tony’s ear. “You will not take here.”

Tony has to clear his throat, acutely away of how Loki tracks the movement of his lips. How he watches when his tongue dashes out to smooth out the suddenly chapped texture. His hand clench and unclench as he feels himself starting to get hard as he realizes what Loki is offering.

“Jesus.”

“He’s not here.”

“Obviously-” Tony’s sentence stops as he turns to look at Loki and feels the weight of Loki’s hand on his shoulder, his fingers resting at the slope of his neck. He looks at Loki and suddenly a new form of nervousness takes hold. His breath catches in an uncomfortable way and Loki draws back. The mood dropping quick and Loki briefly looks uncertain before it’s gone again.

“Go back to her.” Tony manages to get out and in a haze of gold; Loren stands there, mouth quirked and unhappy.

“Tony.” She says and Tony takes several deep breathes as the body memory of hands tight around his neck, of nails digging in deep, fades.

“Shit, I’m killing the mood. Just give me a moment.”

Loki moves to walk away saying, “I can leave.”

“No, just stay.” Tony holds out a hand out and Loki looks at it. Tony runs his hands in his hair, before one covers his mouth as he contemplates what to say. “Stay. I have to get over this and I can’t over this if you aren’t here.”

“It is understandable for you to fear me.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t make it feel like I just wasted all this time chasing after you. Just.” Tony exhales. “Stay.”

“As you wish.”

Tony doesn’t know how he’s able to sleep that night. Instead of having the (probably fantastic, maybe even gymnastic) sex he had hoped for, he gave his bed to Loki.

“You’re a guest.” He had said and she had indelicately snorted, and pulled him into the sheets with her. Now in the morning, he’s slowly waking to the sun breaking the horizon in the direction of the Chrysler building. He yawns and stretches against the sheets, an arm reaching blindly for the source that had warmed the sheets besides him but he finds nothing.

“JARVIS, is Loren, err, Loki still on site?” He asks as he looks at the empty pillow, still curved from the other’s head.

“He is in the common room.”

“Alright,” He groans and gets himself out of bed. Once he dresses he tumbles into the common room and winces at the brightness of the morning sun. It looks same how it did before the Event happened three years prior: the room is filled with smooth glass, stone and leather. There’s still a depressed ring of shag carpeting, the bar across from it is fully stocked and there’s glass panels around the room innocuous in their appearance though they become additional HUDs. When he sees Loki, male, standing and unruffled near the window, he can’t help the tremor that dances along his palms.

“Would you like a drink?”

The question hands in the air as Tony walks to the bar. There’s a nervousness he can’t blot out as they watch each other. From beneath the counter he grabs two tumblers and upturns them onto the counter. From beneath he also pulls out a decanter of scotch.

“A bit heavy for the morning, wouldn’t you say?” Loki questions and unlike the first meeting they had in that very room, he approaches the bar, no sceptre in hand. In fact, he keeps his hands visible as he walks up and Tony’s eyes track them.

“Probably.” Tony agrees and adds a splash into his glass and holds the bottle over Loki’s.

“Something lighter.”

The glass stopper clicks when it slides home and Tony puts the alcohol away. He bends and opens a small steel refrigerator and looks inside.

“Sorry, fresh out of Ambrosia.” He says and Loki huffs, and leans over the counter to look at him.

“Ambrosia is much too sweet.” Loki says and Tony withdraws a tall bottle of champagne. “That will do.”

When Tony straightens, he also brings up a bottle of orange juice. Loki looks to it curiously and watches Tony work. When he he’s done, Tony places the glass in front of his guest. He picks up his own tumbler, swirls the liquid and says, “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to be here. Considering you’re known for your little disappearing act.”

Loki doesn’t look to him, drinks, swallows. “When have I ever done as you expected? Are we so familiar now?”

The comment brings Tony up short, his tumbler resting against his lips as Loki looks at him.

“Are we familiar?” Tony says, taking the drink and then pouring a gratuitous helping of champagne with a splash of orange. “What is your definition of it?”

“I have offended you.”

“Offended? Me? No,” He chuckles and knocks back the champagne. “You gotta try harder Elphaba.” Loki narrows his eyes at the name. “Confused, yes. What exactly is your definition?”

“For one I consider familiar, one must understand how I work.”

“Is that why Thor is familiar and I’m not?”

“Thor has several centuries to have gotten to know me.” Loki deadpans, he reaches for the champagne. “It would not be fair to compare.”

“But am I getting there?” Tony asks and Loki looks to him.

Loki nods and reveals, “Yes.”

Tony smiles at the answer.