be angry at the sun for setting
TITLE: be angry at the sun for setting | ao3
FANDOM: avengers
PAIRING: anthony stark/steve rogers
SERIES: i have no need to pray
RATING: r
SPOILERS: none
WARNINGS: au; non-graphic imagery (sexual; violence); language
WORD COUNT: ~1,530
DISCLAIMER: the avengers, captain america, iron man and thor belong to marvel studios and paramount. all characters within belong to marvel. anything you do not recognise is mine.
SUMMARY: Tony called Pepper, his own personal psychic, and she promptly informed him that yes, angels are entirely asexual on account of them not having physical forms but instead having to possess those of others, and wait a second, does this mean that you're in love with an angel oh my God, Tony, what does -
A/N: written for the 'apocalypse' square of my dark_bingo card and the 'alt fandom: television' square (supernatural) of my au_bingo card. also known as how season 5 should have gone. no knowledge of supernatural required.
When the world did end, finally and in such a small way, it was almost ridiculous how much of a let down it was. Not with a bang, but a whimper - but he didn't even get a fucking whimper, Tony thought, watching as the blood spread out beneath him in a steadily growing pool. More like a confused glance to the right before getting hit in the face by a truck.
It hadn't exactly been a definite plan of Tony's to fall in with a trickster, but by the time he had reached the town that Loki was happily and brutally judging, he had already decided that he wasn't really too pleased about having to kill him.
And then Loki killed off the intensely annoying Justin Hammer with an anvil, and Tony really couldn't bring himself to do it after that.
"Oh, I like you," he said, as they watched bugs destroy the fattist teacher's house following Loki turning it into ice cream.
"I hardly see how that's a compliment," Loki said.
He didn't hang around often, but would drop in every once in a while - mostly just in time to save Tony's skin, or, more likely, just after he would have been useful, and then smirk self-satisfied as Tony bitched at him for being entirely useless.
"What's the point of having a god as a friend if you can't even arrive on time?"
"The term 'friend' implies a relationship of equal status," Loki said.
"Which we don't have?"
"Certainly not." Tony knew Loki too well, if he could read the smirk behind those words at twenty feet. "You hold more of the standing equal to that of a small animal of whom I am somewhat fond."
"Hey, hey," Tony said. "Calm yourself, man. You're getting your emotions all over me."
The air stank of lightning, dragging along Tony's skin like needles and tugging the hair upright all over his body.
"What is it?" he asked, glancing over at Loki, who was staring at a fixed point in the middle distance with narrowed eyes.
"Thor," Loki said, and threw Tony backwards with a flick of his wrist.
Greg and Tony had never been close, especially so after their parents had died; Greg had gone off to college and then into the army, like the good little soldier that Howard would always have wanted, leaving Tony to slog through the mud and the grime with things that shouldn't exist in any rational mind, trying to kill enough bad guys to fill the empty space where his father's approval should have been.
Long, pointed nails were stabbing through the thick padding of Tony's jacket and slicing into his skin; he could smell his own blood, mixed with the powerful reek of the vampire's breath and Christ, this was embarrassing. He was going to die in a public restroom at the hands of a second-rate monster whose teeth were rather crooked, now that Tony had a close-up view of them.
The smell of burning flesh made his eyes water long before the light, which wasn't to say that it wasn't a stupidly bright, over-compensating light, but rather that Tony had been rather pre-occupied with not getting his face ripped off and as such hadn't been in the best position to fully appreciate just how bright and over-compensating it had been.
He squinted at his all-American idiot of a saviour.
"What are you?" he asked, because that was always the more important question.
"An angel of the Lord," the idiot said.
"Fuck off," Tony said, and promptly fainted.
Tony called Pepper, his own personal psychic, and she promptly informed him that yes, angels are entirely asexual on account of them not having physical forms but instead having to possess those of others, and wait a second, does this mean that you're in love with an angel oh my God, Tony, what does -
His ear carefully hung up on her before the questions could become complicated.
"So, where's the angel?" Pepper said, stepping inside the motel room before Tony could even really register her presence; he didn't even bother asking how she'd found him, because she was Pepper-motherfucking-Potts-Hogan, probably the most dangerous woman this side of Tasha Romanoff, and besides: psychic.
"Not here," Tony tried, and got only an eyebrow raise for his trouble.
"Never mind," Pepper said, cheerfully seating herself. "What's his name?"
"Steve," Tony said, and then Steve was standing next to him and too close, as usual.
"Tony," Steve said, and Tony manfully resisted the urge to put his head in his hands.
"Just because I say your name doesn't mean I'm calling you, Steve," he said. "We could've been talking about any number of Steves."
"But you weren't," Steve said. Tony rolled his eyes.
"Yes, well - what if I'd been talking to some other dude called Steve? Am I not allowed to talk to any potential Steves that I might meet in the future now?"
"The probability of you meeting and conversing with other humans named Steve is far lower than you seem to anticipate," Steve said. "The name is in far smaller circulation since your godfather was born-"
"Oh my God, Tony; you named him after your godfather?" Tony grabbed Pepper by the elbow and steered her firmly out of the motel. "Is this some sort of weird kink that you -"
"It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Steve said, because apparently his vessel is from the 1940s, or something.
"Oh, I like him," Pepper said, turning and grinning at Tony as he swung the door shut on her face. "He can stay."
Steve was frowning at him in that way he had when humans (i.e. Tony) did something he didn't understand (i.e. human).
"Is it not common practise to name an angel after your godfather?" he asked
"No more so than naming them after an ex-girlfriend," Tony said. Steve looked even more confused, for a moment, before his expression cleared.
"Ah," he said. "You were being facetious."
"Congratulations, Captain Obvious," Tony said, and faceplanted into his mattress.
Thor looked like he wanted to agree, but Loki frowned and shook his head, and Tony watched as Thor realised that he would have to side with his brother.
"This is a war between angels," Loki said. "It does not concern us."
"But this is your world too!" Tony said. "You're supposed to care for it. If you can't even do that, then what's the fucking point of you?"
The gods exchanged a look, and then Thor put a heavy hand on Tony's shoulder.
"I am sorry, my friend," he said. "But we cannot interfere."
Tony caught him as he staggered forwards, knees giving out in a way that Tony couldn't attach to his image of Steve The Overly Competent Angel. He was bleeding from his ears and his tear ducts and from underneath his fingernails, and he smelt like sulphur and smoke and magnesium.
"Steve," Tony said, because there was only one explanation to why he wasn't healing and why he felt so much lighter and so much heavier at exactly the same time. "But - why?"
Steve leaned his head back, blinking blood out of his eyes to look at him. "Just because I do not have a reproductive instinct," he said, "doesn't mean that I cannot love."
And Tony kissed him then because, well, really.
Steve's hand was inside Tony's boxers, and it felt so good after months of jerking off in the shower, but he managed to pull some alertness from his sleep-logged brain and wrap his fingers around Steve's forearm, just below the crook of his elbow.
"What are you doing?" he said, although it was miracle that anyone could possibly understand the slur that happened in actuality, which Tony was blaming on being woken up to find his head pressed against Steve's chest and his cock in Steve's hand. But if anyone was going to understand him it was going to be Steve, because he may be fallen but still: miracles. "You don't have a sex drive."
"No," Steve said, smiling like there was some joke that Tony didn't quite get. "But you do."
"You're human now," Loki said, appearing in the middle of the motel kitchen with eyes alighting immediately on Steve, sitting at the vinyl-topped table in one of Tony's ancient, faded, worn-out t-shirts and a pair of fourth-hand jeans that they'd picked up at a dime store. "Cute."
Steve frowned. "I fail to see how my current incarnation is relevant to you," he said.
Tony rolled his eyes at the two of them, and prodded Loki with the spatula. "Pancakes?" he said.
There was an explosion of ozone and crackling light and wildfire roaring up the walls, and then Tony felt someone falling down next to him and tugging him up of the ground, away from the sigils that he'd spent hours boring into the floor to relock Lucifer into his cage and had poured his blood along. His face was pressed into something warm and soft that smelt of magnesium and saffron and frozen morning air.
"Tony," someone was saying. "Tony, please. Don't leave me here on my own."
Steve.
"Don't you ever do that again," Steve said, the moment Tony woke up to the stench of cleaning fluids and disinfectant. His grip on Tony's hand was painfully tight. "Don't you dare."
"O Captain, my Captain," Tony said, by way of reply.
FANDOM: avengers
PAIRING: anthony stark/steve rogers
SERIES: i have no need to pray
RATING: r
SPOILERS: none
WARNINGS: au; non-graphic imagery (sexual; violence); language
WORD COUNT: ~1,530
DISCLAIMER: the avengers, captain america, iron man and thor belong to marvel studios and paramount. all characters within belong to marvel. anything you do not recognise is mine.
SUMMARY: Tony called Pepper, his own personal psychic, and she promptly informed him that yes, angels are entirely asexual on account of them not having physical forms but instead having to possess those of others, and wait a second, does this mean that you're in love with an angel oh my God, Tony, what does -
A/N: written for the 'apocalypse' square of my dark_bingo card and the 'alt fandom: television' square (supernatural) of my au_bingo card. also known as how season 5 should have gone. no knowledge of supernatural required.
When the world did end, finally and in such a small way, it was almost ridiculous how much of a let down it was. Not with a bang, but a whimper - but he didn't even get a fucking whimper, Tony thought, watching as the blood spread out beneath him in a steadily growing pool. More like a confused glance to the right before getting hit in the face by a truck.
It hadn't exactly been a definite plan of Tony's to fall in with a trickster, but by the time he had reached the town that Loki was happily and brutally judging, he had already decided that he wasn't really too pleased about having to kill him.
And then Loki killed off the intensely annoying Justin Hammer with an anvil, and Tony really couldn't bring himself to do it after that.
"Oh, I like you," he said, as they watched bugs destroy the fattist teacher's house following Loki turning it into ice cream.
"I hardly see how that's a compliment," Loki said.
He didn't hang around often, but would drop in every once in a while - mostly just in time to save Tony's skin, or, more likely, just after he would have been useful, and then smirk self-satisfied as Tony bitched at him for being entirely useless.
"What's the point of having a god as a friend if you can't even arrive on time?"
"The term 'friend' implies a relationship of equal status," Loki said.
"Which we don't have?"
"Certainly not." Tony knew Loki too well, if he could read the smirk behind those words at twenty feet. "You hold more of the standing equal to that of a small animal of whom I am somewhat fond."
"Hey, hey," Tony said. "Calm yourself, man. You're getting your emotions all over me."
The air stank of lightning, dragging along Tony's skin like needles and tugging the hair upright all over his body.
"What is it?" he asked, glancing over at Loki, who was staring at a fixed point in the middle distance with narrowed eyes.
"Thor," Loki said, and threw Tony backwards with a flick of his wrist.
Greg and Tony had never been close, especially so after their parents had died; Greg had gone off to college and then into the army, like the good little soldier that Howard would always have wanted, leaving Tony to slog through the mud and the grime with things that shouldn't exist in any rational mind, trying to kill enough bad guys to fill the empty space where his father's approval should have been.
Long, pointed nails were stabbing through the thick padding of Tony's jacket and slicing into his skin; he could smell his own blood, mixed with the powerful reek of the vampire's breath and Christ, this was embarrassing. He was going to die in a public restroom at the hands of a second-rate monster whose teeth were rather crooked, now that Tony had a close-up view of them.
The smell of burning flesh made his eyes water long before the light, which wasn't to say that it wasn't a stupidly bright, over-compensating light, but rather that Tony had been rather pre-occupied with not getting his face ripped off and as such hadn't been in the best position to fully appreciate just how bright and over-compensating it had been.
He squinted at his all-American idiot of a saviour.
"What are you?" he asked, because that was always the more important question.
"An angel of the Lord," the idiot said.
"Fuck off," Tony said, and promptly fainted.
Tony called Pepper, his own personal psychic, and she promptly informed him that yes, angels are entirely asexual on account of them not having physical forms but instead having to possess those of others, and wait a second, does this mean that you're in love with an angel oh my God, Tony, what does -
His ear carefully hung up on her before the questions could become complicated.
"So, where's the angel?" Pepper said, stepping inside the motel room before Tony could even really register her presence; he didn't even bother asking how she'd found him, because she was Pepper-motherfucking-Potts-Hogan, probably the most dangerous woman this side of Tasha Romanoff, and besides: psychic.
"Not here," Tony tried, and got only an eyebrow raise for his trouble.
"Never mind," Pepper said, cheerfully seating herself. "What's his name?"
"Steve," Tony said, and then Steve was standing next to him and too close, as usual.
"Tony," Steve said, and Tony manfully resisted the urge to put his head in his hands.
"Just because I say your name doesn't mean I'm calling you, Steve," he said. "We could've been talking about any number of Steves."
"But you weren't," Steve said. Tony rolled his eyes.
"Yes, well - what if I'd been talking to some other dude called Steve? Am I not allowed to talk to any potential Steves that I might meet in the future now?"
"The probability of you meeting and conversing with other humans named Steve is far lower than you seem to anticipate," Steve said. "The name is in far smaller circulation since your godfather was born-"
"Oh my God, Tony; you named him after your godfather?" Tony grabbed Pepper by the elbow and steered her firmly out of the motel. "Is this some sort of weird kink that you -"
"It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Steve said, because apparently his vessel is from the 1940s, or something.
"Oh, I like him," Pepper said, turning and grinning at Tony as he swung the door shut on her face. "He can stay."
Steve was frowning at him in that way he had when humans (i.e. Tony) did something he didn't understand (i.e. human).
"Is it not common practise to name an angel after your godfather?" he asked
"No more so than naming them after an ex-girlfriend," Tony said. Steve looked even more confused, for a moment, before his expression cleared.
"Ah," he said. "You were being facetious."
"Congratulations, Captain Obvious," Tony said, and faceplanted into his mattress.
Thor looked like he wanted to agree, but Loki frowned and shook his head, and Tony watched as Thor realised that he would have to side with his brother.
"This is a war between angels," Loki said. "It does not concern us."
"But this is your world too!" Tony said. "You're supposed to care for it. If you can't even do that, then what's the fucking point of you?"
The gods exchanged a look, and then Thor put a heavy hand on Tony's shoulder.
"I am sorry, my friend," he said. "But we cannot interfere."
Tony caught him as he staggered forwards, knees giving out in a way that Tony couldn't attach to his image of Steve The Overly Competent Angel. He was bleeding from his ears and his tear ducts and from underneath his fingernails, and he smelt like sulphur and smoke and magnesium.
"Steve," Tony said, because there was only one explanation to why he wasn't healing and why he felt so much lighter and so much heavier at exactly the same time. "But - why?"
Steve leaned his head back, blinking blood out of his eyes to look at him. "Just because I do not have a reproductive instinct," he said, "doesn't mean that I cannot love."
And Tony kissed him then because, well, really.
Steve's hand was inside Tony's boxers, and it felt so good after months of jerking off in the shower, but he managed to pull some alertness from his sleep-logged brain and wrap his fingers around Steve's forearm, just below the crook of his elbow.
"What are you doing?" he said, although it was miracle that anyone could possibly understand the slur that happened in actuality, which Tony was blaming on being woken up to find his head pressed against Steve's chest and his cock in Steve's hand. But if anyone was going to understand him it was going to be Steve, because he may be fallen but still: miracles. "You don't have a sex drive."
"No," Steve said, smiling like there was some joke that Tony didn't quite get. "But you do."
"You're human now," Loki said, appearing in the middle of the motel kitchen with eyes alighting immediately on Steve, sitting at the vinyl-topped table in one of Tony's ancient, faded, worn-out t-shirts and a pair of fourth-hand jeans that they'd picked up at a dime store. "Cute."
Steve frowned. "I fail to see how my current incarnation is relevant to you," he said.
Tony rolled his eyes at the two of them, and prodded Loki with the spatula. "Pancakes?" he said.
There was an explosion of ozone and crackling light and wildfire roaring up the walls, and then Tony felt someone falling down next to him and tugging him up of the ground, away from the sigils that he'd spent hours boring into the floor to relock Lucifer into his cage and had poured his blood along. His face was pressed into something warm and soft that smelt of magnesium and saffron and frozen morning air.
"Tony," someone was saying. "Tony, please. Don't leave me here on my own."
Steve.
"Don't you ever do that again," Steve said, the moment Tony woke up to the stench of cleaning fluids and disinfectant. His grip on Tony's hand was painfully tight. "Don't you dare."
"O Captain, my Captain," Tony said, by way of reply.