FIC - ALFIE&TONY - PG-13 - [JUST A BLOODY DRIVER] - 1
I Swear for Christ's Sake, I Just Drive Cars. ♪ title.
iron man + alfie crossover // tony&alfie ♪ fandom // pairing.
PG-13 ♪ rating.
don't own a soul. ♪ disclaimer.
chapter 1 ♪ length.
holmes_RPF ♪ crossposted.
Alfie tapped on the hood of the Cadillac, black lacquer and polished just this morning. He took a napkin out of his suit pocket to rub at an imaginary smudge on the finish, and huffed out impatiently. This was the second time in as many days, and he was really getting sick and tired of clients asking him to just wait for me by the car, won't you? Especially when it was an old, rich hasbeen with nothing better to do with his life than push the less fortunate around.
“Bloody hell,” he hissed. He rubbed his hands together, keeping blue eyes on the many faces passing him by on the sidewalk.
Well, he might as well wait inside if he had to wait at all. He pushed his chauffeur hat snug on his head and entered the hotel lobby, smoothing down his Gucci suit jacket. He was wearing a new dark blue dress shirt, his favorite pink shirt long since ruined by Nikki. He stood around the lobby, definitely a ritzy place by the looks of that (“Crystal?? Oh good Lord..”) chandelier hanging in the middle of the lobby.
At least he could indulge himself in watching the rare woman step in and out of the building.
“Well, well,” he muttered under his breath, and smiled sweetly at a young doll in a long coat and longer lashes. She smirked in his direction and used a gloved hand to fix her blond hair. The huge rock on her index finger didn't miss his eye and he resisted the urge to take that as a challenge.
Beautiful things; he was past trying to land beautiful things. He was a changed man. A new man.
She was smiling at him, practically beckoning-he was not going to follow her up. He was not going to follow her up. He still had that stupid client, and if there was ever a rule Alfie knew not to break..
“Business first,” he reminded himself, and dragged his eyes away from the beauty at the top of the stairs staring down at him. Oh good Lord, was he tired of these idiotic clients telling him to bloody wait-
“Harry!” and before Alfie could turn to the voice, a painful grip attached itself to his arm and he found himself wincing, being practically dragged to the entrance.
“Sir,” he quickened his pace to keep up with the other man, “I don't-”
“You're a chauffeur, right?” he asked and Alfie barely had enough sense to notice how out of breath he sounded. The grip on his arm was getting more lax the more steps they took.
“Yes, yes, I am but you see I'm actually waiting for someone else. I'm not Harry-”
“I know you're not. Don't be stupid,” he commanded and Alfie actually clipped his mouth shut. “Listen,” he continued and took a shaky breath that made eyebrows raise.
“Are.. are you alright, sir?”
“I'm fine,” but that was all he could manage to say. He was sweating, and he wasn't so much dragging Alfie anymore as leaning on to him. His grip on his arm was weak and Alfie could feel the man's palm shaking through the fabric of his coat. He was using him for support. Something wasn't right.
“Sir,” Alfie began but he was cut off again.
“Listen will ya?” and he stopped talking again to give the doorman a curt nod when he opened the door for them. Alfie rolled his eyes, fishing in his pockets for a tip.
“I always forget that,” he muttered, “Anyway...you're going to drive me.”
“I don't think so,” he protested, stopping before his car and trying to pry the man's hands off his nice jacket, “I have another client waiting for me and I'm definitely not going to risk my-”
“I don't care,” he declared and Alfie resisted the urge to say something obscene; why did this infuriating man keep interrupting him?
“I'm sorry,” he said instead, shrugging.
“You...” he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, sweat collecting at his hairline, “You're going to drive me. Ya got that, kid? You're going to drive me...and...fuck, just open the fucking door.”
He swayed on his feet and Alfie reached out immediately, noticing the other man's eyes rolling into the back of his head. He could swear his face went white.
“Oh fuck, fuck!” he cursed, struggling under him, holding him up with an arm slung over his shoulder just as the man went limp. What had he done to deserve this?! He hadn't slept with another woman since Nikki and-
The man's hands were dead cold.
Oh shit, if the man was...dying. No, no, no, no, no, this couldn't be happening, God, this would be a lot easier if the other man wasn't so damn heavy, he thought, trying desperately to maneuver him to the backseat after he struggled with opening the car door.
At least he had a lot of practice. Granted, those other times he was maneuvering drunk woman to the backseat.
“Seriously, not the right time to be thinking about that,” he muttered, pushing the man's body inside.
“Sir, is he alright?”
Alfie whirled around to face the doorman and noticed they had a small crowd trying to see what was going on, “Oh yeah, he's, he's good-great,” he turned his most charming smile to the people milling about, resisting the urge to slam the passenger's door shut, “this is nothing! You should see him when he has something to celebrate. Hahaha...”
A few of the people laughed along, and he cleared his throat and fixed his chauffeur hat before practically running to the driver's seat.
“Oh my fucking bloody shitty hell,” he cursed, his palms getting clammy and sweaty as he closed his door and turned on the car, refusing to look in the backseat.
He barely remembered to check his mirrors and the lane beside him before he hightailed it out of there like the devil was on his heels.
#
“Haha, no, Alfie, that wasn't suspect at all,” he said to himself, banging his head on his steering wheel relentlessly. Oh good Lord, he had acted like a downright criminal trying to escape from the murder scene! This was perfect. This was so fucking perfect.
“Oh fuck me,” he whined pathetically, resting his head on the wheel.
“Erm, well gladly, but I don't think my body is feeling up to it right now. Raincheck?”
Alfie's head snapped up and he turned in his seat completely to stare at the dead body in his backseat that was suddenly not so dead. “You-”
The dead man stared at him, looking pathetic and tired. Alfie was pretty sure his mouth was moving but he didn't hear any words coming out.
“Do you always talk to yourself?” he asked and Alfie didn't know what to say.
“You're alive,” he finally managed, “You're alive..”
“Yes, that would explain the talking.”
“I can't believe it. I thought-I checked your pulse, you were-you didn't have one...you didn't have a bloody pulse!”
“I didn't?” he looked himself over, straining his neck.
Alfie stared at him, completely flabbergasted and he was sure he was making the stupidest looking face ever, “Yes! Yes, I'm fucking sure! I checked your pulse. I think I know how to check a fucking pulse!”
“Are you a doctor?”
What the hell?! For God's sake, it didn't take a medical degree to know how to check a pulse. “No! But-”
“Then? Unless you're a doctor, I hardly think your judgment is a qualified one.”
“You know what?!” Alfie shouted, ready to lose his head, “Get the hell out of my damn car!”
“I'm afraid that's going to have to be a no.”
“I'm not asking you!”
“I can't feel my legs,” he said, matter of fact, almost like a snobby child who refused to lose an argument.
“Oh Lord,” Alfie cried, turning back around in his seat.
“I prefer to go by Tony, if you don't mind,” he replied cheekily and Alfie groaned. He was still banging his head on the steering wheel a few minutes later when Tony cleared his throat.
“So, where are we again? I must have dozed off back there.”
“Dozed off?!” Alfie was about to self-destruct, “for God's sake man! You were dead! You demanded I drive you, I refused, and the next thing I knew, you were unconscious in my arms!”
“Where are we?” he repeated after a long beat.
“Um, oh fuck. We're upstate, okay?!”
“Why are we upstate?” Tony asked, and his voice was hard and serious. Alfie struggled with his words, still reeling from everything.
“I didn't know where the hell to go, so I drove around a bit, and when I finally got the courage to check up on you... you... you were dead.”
“Why. Are. We. Upstate, driver.”
Alfie whirled in his seat and couldn't stop himself from shouting, “You were DEAD! I. PANICKED. Okay!?”
“You were going to dump my body?!”
“I don't know what I was going to do!! I sure as bloody hell couldn't go back to work with a dead man in my backseat, could I!?”
“You're an idiot,” Tony said simply from his spot on the backseat, looking up at Alfie.
“No, you're absolutely right. Burning is best,” he muttered.
“Damn straight,” Tony replied and Alfie would have smiled had he any nerves left. He wouldn't be able to sleep after this for a long, long, long time. Fuck, his hands were still shaking. “Listen, you need to drive me back to the city.”
Oh. Hell. No. “Fuck you! I'm not driving you anywhere. No, as a matter of fact, I AM driving you somewhere. I'm taking you to a fucking hospital before you fucking die again,” he started up the car and almost screamed when a hand reached up and gripped his head rest.
“You need to do what I say, kid,” Tony muttered and dragged the rest of his body up to a sitting position. It drained his face of color, the simple movement taking a lot more out of him than he realized. “And for the record... I didn't die,” he continued, breathing hard.
“No?” Alfie muttered, a lot more shaken than he cared to admit, “Then care to tell me what did happen? Was it just a nap? A little snooze?”
“No, actually. I don't care to tell you anything.”
“Then... I'm not taking you anywhere.” He really hoped Tony wouldn't call him on that bluff. He swallowed nervously, the brown eyes watching him from the backseat.
“That's a shame. I guess I'll just have to kill you, then,” he said cheerfully, practically singing it, and the driver blanched. “Nah, I'm joking! I guess I can tell you what you want to know.”
Alfie almost died on the spot. “I.. uh, great,” he muttered, feeling sick to his stomach. “You don't happen to be a serial killer by any chance, do you?”
“Good question. Definitely the first thing I'd want to know. Let's see.. do I look like a serial killer? Just curious.”
The casual tone Tony was using had to be for Alfie's benefit. He had no choice but to relax. Ahh, easier said than done. “I must admit, the goatee-mustache combo you have there is really throwing me for a loop.”
“Really?” Alfie could imagine Tony feeling his face but he was too shaken to look.
“Yeah. I'm not sure if it's good-guy facial hair, sorry.”
“Ah, that's fine. Might throw my opponents off.. but to answer your question, no. I'm not really into the whole serial killer business. Too much planning, preparation, stealth. Not my thing. I'm a do-er,” he answered easily. Alfie had the sneaking suspicion that Tony had considered the question before.
“Well wonderful then,” Alfie answered, not at all relieved.
“You really don't recognize me?”
“No... Why?”
“Do you live under a rock or something?” he asked accusingly. Alfie gave him a look.
“I live in Manhattan. I don't really have the luxury of free time.”
“So you're a hermit.”
Alfie rolled his eyes and finally started his car, reversing out of the little road in the forest and getting back on the main route, towards the city. “Where are we going?” he asked, past formalities.
“No hospitals,” Tony answered immediately and his breathing sounded shaky.
“Only if you promise you won't die in my backseat again. One scare was enough,” he shot back.
“I...promise nothing, my good driver.” He finally chanced a look in the rearview mirror and Tony was grinning mischievously.
“My name is Alfie. You can stop calling me 'driver'.”
“Ahh, Alfie. Charming,” he said approvingly, and there was a hint of mockery that made Alfie roll his eyes.
“Yeah. Short for Alphonse.”
“Now see, I was going to guess it was short for Alfred.”
“Yeah, that's what people usually say.”
“Well,” and Tony fell back sideways, cutting his sentence short and disappearing from Alfie's line of sight.
“...Tony?”
He waited a beat without an answer.
on to chapter two?
iron man + alfie crossover // tony&alfie ♪ fandom // pairing.
PG-13 ♪ rating.
don't own a soul. ♪ disclaimer.
chapter 1 ♪ length.
holmes_RPF ♪ crossposted.
Alfie tapped on the hood of the Cadillac, black lacquer and polished just this morning. He took a napkin out of his suit pocket to rub at an imaginary smudge on the finish, and huffed out impatiently. This was the second time in as many days, and he was really getting sick and tired of clients asking him to just wait for me by the car, won't you? Especially when it was an old, rich hasbeen with nothing better to do with his life than push the less fortunate around.
“Bloody hell,” he hissed. He rubbed his hands together, keeping blue eyes on the many faces passing him by on the sidewalk.
Well, he might as well wait inside if he had to wait at all. He pushed his chauffeur hat snug on his head and entered the hotel lobby, smoothing down his Gucci suit jacket. He was wearing a new dark blue dress shirt, his favorite pink shirt long since ruined by Nikki. He stood around the lobby, definitely a ritzy place by the looks of that (“Crystal?? Oh good Lord..”) chandelier hanging in the middle of the lobby.
At least he could indulge himself in watching the rare woman step in and out of the building.
“Well, well,” he muttered under his breath, and smiled sweetly at a young doll in a long coat and longer lashes. She smirked in his direction and used a gloved hand to fix her blond hair. The huge rock on her index finger didn't miss his eye and he resisted the urge to take that as a challenge.
Beautiful things; he was past trying to land beautiful things. He was a changed man. A new man.
She was smiling at him, practically beckoning-he was not going to follow her up. He was not going to follow her up. He still had that stupid client, and if there was ever a rule Alfie knew not to break..
“Business first,” he reminded himself, and dragged his eyes away from the beauty at the top of the stairs staring down at him. Oh good Lord, was he tired of these idiotic clients telling him to bloody wait-
“Harry!” and before Alfie could turn to the voice, a painful grip attached itself to his arm and he found himself wincing, being practically dragged to the entrance.
“Sir,” he quickened his pace to keep up with the other man, “I don't-”
“You're a chauffeur, right?” he asked and Alfie barely had enough sense to notice how out of breath he sounded. The grip on his arm was getting more lax the more steps they took.
“Yes, yes, I am but you see I'm actually waiting for someone else. I'm not Harry-”
“I know you're not. Don't be stupid,” he commanded and Alfie actually clipped his mouth shut. “Listen,” he continued and took a shaky breath that made eyebrows raise.
“Are.. are you alright, sir?”
“I'm fine,” but that was all he could manage to say. He was sweating, and he wasn't so much dragging Alfie anymore as leaning on to him. His grip on his arm was weak and Alfie could feel the man's palm shaking through the fabric of his coat. He was using him for support. Something wasn't right.
“Sir,” Alfie began but he was cut off again.
“Listen will ya?” and he stopped talking again to give the doorman a curt nod when he opened the door for them. Alfie rolled his eyes, fishing in his pockets for a tip.
“I always forget that,” he muttered, “Anyway...you're going to drive me.”
“I don't think so,” he protested, stopping before his car and trying to pry the man's hands off his nice jacket, “I have another client waiting for me and I'm definitely not going to risk my-”
“I don't care,” he declared and Alfie resisted the urge to say something obscene; why did this infuriating man keep interrupting him?
“I'm sorry,” he said instead, shrugging.
“You...” he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, sweat collecting at his hairline, “You're going to drive me. Ya got that, kid? You're going to drive me...and...fuck, just open the fucking door.”
He swayed on his feet and Alfie reached out immediately, noticing the other man's eyes rolling into the back of his head. He could swear his face went white.
“Oh fuck, fuck!” he cursed, struggling under him, holding him up with an arm slung over his shoulder just as the man went limp. What had he done to deserve this?! He hadn't slept with another woman since Nikki and-
The man's hands were dead cold.
Oh shit, if the man was...dying. No, no, no, no, no, this couldn't be happening, God, this would be a lot easier if the other man wasn't so damn heavy, he thought, trying desperately to maneuver him to the backseat after he struggled with opening the car door.
At least he had a lot of practice. Granted, those other times he was maneuvering drunk woman to the backseat.
“Seriously, not the right time to be thinking about that,” he muttered, pushing the man's body inside.
“Sir, is he alright?”
Alfie whirled around to face the doorman and noticed they had a small crowd trying to see what was going on, “Oh yeah, he's, he's good-great,” he turned his most charming smile to the people milling about, resisting the urge to slam the passenger's door shut, “this is nothing! You should see him when he has something to celebrate. Hahaha...”
A few of the people laughed along, and he cleared his throat and fixed his chauffeur hat before practically running to the driver's seat.
“Oh my fucking bloody shitty hell,” he cursed, his palms getting clammy and sweaty as he closed his door and turned on the car, refusing to look in the backseat.
He barely remembered to check his mirrors and the lane beside him before he hightailed it out of there like the devil was on his heels.
#
“Haha, no, Alfie, that wasn't suspect at all,” he said to himself, banging his head on his steering wheel relentlessly. Oh good Lord, he had acted like a downright criminal trying to escape from the murder scene! This was perfect. This was so fucking perfect.
“Oh fuck me,” he whined pathetically, resting his head on the wheel.
“Erm, well gladly, but I don't think my body is feeling up to it right now. Raincheck?”
Alfie's head snapped up and he turned in his seat completely to stare at the dead body in his backseat that was suddenly not so dead. “You-”
The dead man stared at him, looking pathetic and tired. Alfie was pretty sure his mouth was moving but he didn't hear any words coming out.
“Do you always talk to yourself?” he asked and Alfie didn't know what to say.
“You're alive,” he finally managed, “You're alive..”
“Yes, that would explain the talking.”
“I can't believe it. I thought-I checked your pulse, you were-you didn't have one...you didn't have a bloody pulse!”
“I didn't?” he looked himself over, straining his neck.
Alfie stared at him, completely flabbergasted and he was sure he was making the stupidest looking face ever, “Yes! Yes, I'm fucking sure! I checked your pulse. I think I know how to check a fucking pulse!”
“Are you a doctor?”
What the hell?! For God's sake, it didn't take a medical degree to know how to check a pulse. “No! But-”
“Then? Unless you're a doctor, I hardly think your judgment is a qualified one.”
“You know what?!” Alfie shouted, ready to lose his head, “Get the hell out of my damn car!”
“I'm afraid that's going to have to be a no.”
“I'm not asking you!”
“I can't feel my legs,” he said, matter of fact, almost like a snobby child who refused to lose an argument.
“Oh Lord,” Alfie cried, turning back around in his seat.
“I prefer to go by Tony, if you don't mind,” he replied cheekily and Alfie groaned. He was still banging his head on the steering wheel a few minutes later when Tony cleared his throat.
“So, where are we again? I must have dozed off back there.”
“Dozed off?!” Alfie was about to self-destruct, “for God's sake man! You were dead! You demanded I drive you, I refused, and the next thing I knew, you were unconscious in my arms!”
“Where are we?” he repeated after a long beat.
“Um, oh fuck. We're upstate, okay?!”
“Why are we upstate?” Tony asked, and his voice was hard and serious. Alfie struggled with his words, still reeling from everything.
“I didn't know where the hell to go, so I drove around a bit, and when I finally got the courage to check up on you... you... you were dead.”
“Why. Are. We. Upstate, driver.”
Alfie whirled in his seat and couldn't stop himself from shouting, “You were DEAD! I. PANICKED. Okay!?”
“You were going to dump my body?!”
“I don't know what I was going to do!! I sure as bloody hell couldn't go back to work with a dead man in my backseat, could I!?”
“You're an idiot,” Tony said simply from his spot on the backseat, looking up at Alfie.
“No, you're absolutely right. Burning is best,” he muttered.
“Damn straight,” Tony replied and Alfie would have smiled had he any nerves left. He wouldn't be able to sleep after this for a long, long, long time. Fuck, his hands were still shaking. “Listen, you need to drive me back to the city.”
Oh. Hell. No. “Fuck you! I'm not driving you anywhere. No, as a matter of fact, I AM driving you somewhere. I'm taking you to a fucking hospital before you fucking die again,” he started up the car and almost screamed when a hand reached up and gripped his head rest.
“You need to do what I say, kid,” Tony muttered and dragged the rest of his body up to a sitting position. It drained his face of color, the simple movement taking a lot more out of him than he realized. “And for the record... I didn't die,” he continued, breathing hard.
“No?” Alfie muttered, a lot more shaken than he cared to admit, “Then care to tell me what did happen? Was it just a nap? A little snooze?”
“No, actually. I don't care to tell you anything.”
“Then... I'm not taking you anywhere.” He really hoped Tony wouldn't call him on that bluff. He swallowed nervously, the brown eyes watching him from the backseat.
“That's a shame. I guess I'll just have to kill you, then,” he said cheerfully, practically singing it, and the driver blanched. “Nah, I'm joking! I guess I can tell you what you want to know.”
Alfie almost died on the spot. “I.. uh, great,” he muttered, feeling sick to his stomach. “You don't happen to be a serial killer by any chance, do you?”
“Good question. Definitely the first thing I'd want to know. Let's see.. do I look like a serial killer? Just curious.”
The casual tone Tony was using had to be for Alfie's benefit. He had no choice but to relax. Ahh, easier said than done. “I must admit, the goatee-mustache combo you have there is really throwing me for a loop.”
“Really?” Alfie could imagine Tony feeling his face but he was too shaken to look.
“Yeah. I'm not sure if it's good-guy facial hair, sorry.”
“Ah, that's fine. Might throw my opponents off.. but to answer your question, no. I'm not really into the whole serial killer business. Too much planning, preparation, stealth. Not my thing. I'm a do-er,” he answered easily. Alfie had the sneaking suspicion that Tony had considered the question before.
“Well wonderful then,” Alfie answered, not at all relieved.
“You really don't recognize me?”
“No... Why?”
“Do you live under a rock or something?” he asked accusingly. Alfie gave him a look.
“I live in Manhattan. I don't really have the luxury of free time.”
“So you're a hermit.”
Alfie rolled his eyes and finally started his car, reversing out of the little road in the forest and getting back on the main route, towards the city. “Where are we going?” he asked, past formalities.
“No hospitals,” Tony answered immediately and his breathing sounded shaky.
“Only if you promise you won't die in my backseat again. One scare was enough,” he shot back.
“I...promise nothing, my good driver.” He finally chanced a look in the rearview mirror and Tony was grinning mischievously.
“My name is Alfie. You can stop calling me 'driver'.”
“Ahh, Alfie. Charming,” he said approvingly, and there was a hint of mockery that made Alfie roll his eyes.
“Yeah. Short for Alphonse.”
“Now see, I was going to guess it was short for Alfred.”
“Yeah, that's what people usually say.”
“Well,” and Tony fell back sideways, cutting his sentence short and disappearing from Alfie's line of sight.
“...Tony?”
He waited a beat without an answer.
on to chapter two?