FIC - ALFIE&TONY - PG-13 - [JUST A BLOODY DRIVER] - 2
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 2 ♪ length.
holmes_RPF ♪ crossposted.
He remembered a time, a long while ago, when his apartment had been untouched, unseen by anyone other than him and his generous landlady. Never brought a woman home, he would boast.
The very idea, the very sentiment, reeked of commitment, of conformity, of a tight-rope life he wasn't yet ready to live. He was young back then, just shy of 26, and now he was a tired guy that woke up in the mornings to a lonely bed, and a room crudely painted by a girl he had toyed with.
If he wanted to be melodramatic, it was soon after he had brought Nikki to his apartment that his life had gone straight to hell. Nikki turned out to be a maniac, Liz was a whore just like him, and every woman he had ever played had gotten the last laugh. Right in his face, even.
Yep.
So excuse him if he doesn't exactly have the best feeling about this.
“Oh, you fucker. You bloody, heavy, mother...fucker,” he hissed, lugging the heavy man up to his flat.
Not the best feeling. At all.
“My goodness, Alfie! What's going on here?”
His landlady stood at the end of the hall with her thick hands raised to her mouth. She was pointedly staring at the unconscious man in his arms.
“Lulu,” Alfie used his most charming tone and her favorite nickname. Playing his cards right was effortless with some women. He struggled to prop Tony up against the wall, smiling at his landlady through the sweat he had accumulated. And this was his best work suit, too. Bloody hell.
“Is that man...is he dead?” she shrieked, laying on the theatrics as she was so fond of doing. Alfie just laughed and smiled at her again, trying to get her to keep her attention on him and not the limp man hanging off him.
“Dead? Oh for goodness' sake, Lulu! He's just taking a bit of a nap, poor chap. Drank too much, you know how it is with those new guys. They drive a limo and suddenly they think they're hot stuff,” it was getting harder and harder to laugh convincingly. And it really wasn't helping matters that Tony's head kept lolling with every movement.
Lu's entire face scrunched up but she didn't dare take another step closer. “Oh. Well do you need any help Alfie?”
“If you could just...” he motioned to his door and his landlady bustled over to open it. He gave her another one of his charming smiles, “Thank you so much, Lulu. You're an angel.”
“Oh Alfie,” she cried, giggling like a teenager. Thank God that ship sailed, he thought even as he maintained his smile, and dragged Tony the rest of the way to his bed. He dropped him unceremoniously on the unmade sheets with an annoyed huff.
He wiped the sweat from the top of his brow.
To do list: get a room on the first floor. Easier to find and stumble in when he was drunk and easier to kick any future lays out if he lived closer to the front door.
….
He was kidding on that last one.
Mostly.
“Will you be alright, Alfie?” Lu asked, hanging by the doorway and shooting worried glances at Alfie's bed.
“Lulu,” Alfie smirked gently, giving his apartment an exaggerated once-over, “did you tidy the place up for me, again?”
“Yes,” her cheeks turned rosy and she nodded a little, unable to stop the giggles.
“You didn't have to through all that trouble. You know.. you're going to make me feel bad,” he pouted and walked over to her in a couple strides, smooth and gracious, grabbing one of her hands to rub. She became immediately flustered at the simple touch.
“Oh you know I like doing things for you, Alfie! It's not a bother at all,” she insisted, bringing her free hand up to cover her red cheeks.
“You are too kind, my dear,” he continued.
She giggled again, “Stop it! You're such a doll!”
He laughed along with her, letting the good humor play out.
She batted her eyes at him, “Well I have so many things to take care of, I won't take any more of your time.”
“Please feel free to take up as much of my time as you like,” oh, it was almost too easy. She swatted him on the shoulder, her eyes bright with all his compliments. Nothing wrong with making a woman feel good about herself, right?
“Oh, you!” and he kissed her on the cheek and off she went down the hall, giggling still, even as he closed the door behind her and locked it for good measure. He breathed out his annoyance, running a hand through the blond mess on his head.
“That was..”
“Impressive,” a voice interjected, from the direction of his bed.
Alfie whirled around, his heart leaping out of his chest. “You! Will you bloody quit that!!”
“Wha-what's the matter?” Tony asked, giving him the most bemused look he could muster in his state. He took the opportunity to look at his surroundings and fell silent again, as Alfie was busy trying to stop himself from pulling out his hair.
“I clearly remember telling you not to die, and what's the first thing you do?!” he hissed out, recalling with badly suppressed anxiety the way he had found Tony in his backseat, pale, and sweaty and frigid cold. He couldn't even believe he was having this conversation. Maybe this was just a weird dream.. a really long and detailed and nonsensical dream.
Tony stared at him for a good long while. “You..” he started, mulling over the right words, “are really good at that.”
“What?” Alfie asked, caught off-guard.
“Manipulating conversations, people, like you just did with that.. woman.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“That wasn't a subtle deflect.”
“I don't need to be subtle, and I wasn't manipulating her.”
“Really? I doubt all those compliments were necessary...or true, for that matter,” he said thoughtfully, puckering his lips up a little. Alfie shot him a nasty look, realization dawning somewhere behind his glare.
“You were awake??” he demanded, stomping over to Tony who was still sprawled spread-eagle over the bed.
“Might have been,” he answered back, vague on purpose, making Alfie's ire rise.
“How long?!”
“Doesn't matter, I still can't feel my legs or my arms.. or most of my face.. I'm paralyzed if that makes you feel any better.”
“No, it really doesn't!” Alfie shouted. He walked over to his kitchen and poured himself a drink. He couldn't think past his exasperation; let alone the absurdity of the whole situation was making his head ache. Speaking of, “You need to tell me what the hell is going on, Tony,” his voice died down to a mumble, “if that is your real name..”
Tony's breathing was loud and labored.
“Tony?” he called out through the drumming in his ears, “Hey, hey!”
He ran over to his bed, setting the glass of scotch on the nightstand without a second thought. He placed a knee on the bed, looking Tony over for any signs of life, a flutter of the eyes, a fall and rise of his chest, something. The man wouldn't stir. He checked his wrist, and almost jumped when he felt the slight thump of life underneath the clammy skin.
“Christ,” he breathed out. Alfie counted the beats as he felt them; they were so weak. He couldn't move from his spot, paralyzed perhaps at the sight of a dying man with a pulse slipping through his consciousness.
Tony was still sweating his weight in water, his body temperature thrown out of whack by whatever was conflicting him. Perhaps it was a bug.. some kind of disease, or weird condition or freak virus. Or. Fuck, it could be anything.
“What was I thinking, listening to you,” he muttered, getting up to find some towels and a wide pitcher with cool water. He set them down on the ground by his feet, dunking a towel in the water and rinsing out the excess carefully. He used the moist towel to wipe the sweat around Tony's hairline that was making his hair stick to his face, and he tried to wipe the sweat gathering around his collar.
“This will be easier without this jacket,” with deft fingers, Alfie popped open the suit easily, lifting Tony up to remove the coat and leave him in his dress shirt. And perhaps he would have noticed the arc reactor if he wasn't so busy staring at the coat jacket.
It was Ralph Lauren's Purple Label. He turned it over in his hands. Looked at the sleeves and the stitching and finally, just to confirm his thoughts, he looked at the tag inside and without a doubt. Bespoke Ralph Lauren. Inside, embroidered in fine stitching, were the initials TS.
Purple Label.. just who the hell was this guy exactly??
Those suits could go for outrageous prices.
And he would know, too. It's the kind he had always wanted to fill his closet with, and yet, he'd be lucky if he ever managed to get his hands on one. Wherewherewherewherewhere had he seen this line? Tony momentarily forgotten in a fashion fit, Alfie stood and searched his precious magazine stack, magazine after magazine opened before he finally found the right one.
Vogue. Presenting Ralph Lauren's new line in a photo shoot with its honorary model. Tony.
Tony. Stark.
The Tony Stark.
Alfie blanched.
iron man + alfie crossover // tony&alfie ♪ fandom // pairing.
PG-13 ♪ rating.
don't own a soul. ♪ disclaimer.
chapter 2 ♪ length.
holmes_RPF ♪ crossposted.
He remembered a time, a long while ago, when his apartment had been untouched, unseen by anyone other than him and his generous landlady. Never brought a woman home, he would boast.
The very idea, the very sentiment, reeked of commitment, of conformity, of a tight-rope life he wasn't yet ready to live. He was young back then, just shy of 26, and now he was a tired guy that woke up in the mornings to a lonely bed, and a room crudely painted by a girl he had toyed with.
If he wanted to be melodramatic, it was soon after he had brought Nikki to his apartment that his life had gone straight to hell. Nikki turned out to be a maniac, Liz was a whore just like him, and every woman he had ever played had gotten the last laugh. Right in his face, even.
Yep.
So excuse him if he doesn't exactly have the best feeling about this.
“Oh, you fucker. You bloody, heavy, mother...fucker,” he hissed, lugging the heavy man up to his flat.
Not the best feeling. At all.
“My goodness, Alfie! What's going on here?”
His landlady stood at the end of the hall with her thick hands raised to her mouth. She was pointedly staring at the unconscious man in his arms.
“Lulu,” Alfie used his most charming tone and her favorite nickname. Playing his cards right was effortless with some women. He struggled to prop Tony up against the wall, smiling at his landlady through the sweat he had accumulated. And this was his best work suit, too. Bloody hell.
“Is that man...is he dead?” she shrieked, laying on the theatrics as she was so fond of doing. Alfie just laughed and smiled at her again, trying to get her to keep her attention on him and not the limp man hanging off him.
“Dead? Oh for goodness' sake, Lulu! He's just taking a bit of a nap, poor chap. Drank too much, you know how it is with those new guys. They drive a limo and suddenly they think they're hot stuff,” it was getting harder and harder to laugh convincingly. And it really wasn't helping matters that Tony's head kept lolling with every movement.
Lu's entire face scrunched up but she didn't dare take another step closer. “Oh. Well do you need any help Alfie?”
“If you could just...” he motioned to his door and his landlady bustled over to open it. He gave her another one of his charming smiles, “Thank you so much, Lulu. You're an angel.”
“Oh Alfie,” she cried, giggling like a teenager. Thank God that ship sailed, he thought even as he maintained his smile, and dragged Tony the rest of the way to his bed. He dropped him unceremoniously on the unmade sheets with an annoyed huff.
He wiped the sweat from the top of his brow.
To do list: get a room on the first floor. Easier to find and stumble in when he was drunk and easier to kick any future lays out if he lived closer to the front door.
….
He was kidding on that last one.
Mostly.
“Will you be alright, Alfie?” Lu asked, hanging by the doorway and shooting worried glances at Alfie's bed.
“Lulu,” Alfie smirked gently, giving his apartment an exaggerated once-over, “did you tidy the place up for me, again?”
“Yes,” her cheeks turned rosy and she nodded a little, unable to stop the giggles.
“You didn't have to through all that trouble. You know.. you're going to make me feel bad,” he pouted and walked over to her in a couple strides, smooth and gracious, grabbing one of her hands to rub. She became immediately flustered at the simple touch.
“Oh you know I like doing things for you, Alfie! It's not a bother at all,” she insisted, bringing her free hand up to cover her red cheeks.
“You are too kind, my dear,” he continued.
She giggled again, “Stop it! You're such a doll!”
He laughed along with her, letting the good humor play out.
She batted her eyes at him, “Well I have so many things to take care of, I won't take any more of your time.”
“Please feel free to take up as much of my time as you like,” oh, it was almost too easy. She swatted him on the shoulder, her eyes bright with all his compliments. Nothing wrong with making a woman feel good about herself, right?
“Oh, you!” and he kissed her on the cheek and off she went down the hall, giggling still, even as he closed the door behind her and locked it for good measure. He breathed out his annoyance, running a hand through the blond mess on his head.
“That was..”
“Impressive,” a voice interjected, from the direction of his bed.
Alfie whirled around, his heart leaping out of his chest. “You! Will you bloody quit that!!”
“Wha-what's the matter?” Tony asked, giving him the most bemused look he could muster in his state. He took the opportunity to look at his surroundings and fell silent again, as Alfie was busy trying to stop himself from pulling out his hair.
“I clearly remember telling you not to die, and what's the first thing you do?!” he hissed out, recalling with badly suppressed anxiety the way he had found Tony in his backseat, pale, and sweaty and frigid cold. He couldn't even believe he was having this conversation. Maybe this was just a weird dream.. a really long and detailed and nonsensical dream.
Tony stared at him for a good long while. “You..” he started, mulling over the right words, “are really good at that.”
“What?” Alfie asked, caught off-guard.
“Manipulating conversations, people, like you just did with that.. woman.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“That wasn't a subtle deflect.”
“I don't need to be subtle, and I wasn't manipulating her.”
“Really? I doubt all those compliments were necessary...or true, for that matter,” he said thoughtfully, puckering his lips up a little. Alfie shot him a nasty look, realization dawning somewhere behind his glare.
“You were awake??” he demanded, stomping over to Tony who was still sprawled spread-eagle over the bed.
“Might have been,” he answered back, vague on purpose, making Alfie's ire rise.
“How long?!”
“Doesn't matter, I still can't feel my legs or my arms.. or most of my face.. I'm paralyzed if that makes you feel any better.”
“No, it really doesn't!” Alfie shouted. He walked over to his kitchen and poured himself a drink. He couldn't think past his exasperation; let alone the absurdity of the whole situation was making his head ache. Speaking of, “You need to tell me what the hell is going on, Tony,” his voice died down to a mumble, “if that is your real name..”
Tony's breathing was loud and labored.
“Tony?” he called out through the drumming in his ears, “Hey, hey!”
He ran over to his bed, setting the glass of scotch on the nightstand without a second thought. He placed a knee on the bed, looking Tony over for any signs of life, a flutter of the eyes, a fall and rise of his chest, something. The man wouldn't stir. He checked his wrist, and almost jumped when he felt the slight thump of life underneath the clammy skin.
“Christ,” he breathed out. Alfie counted the beats as he felt them; they were so weak. He couldn't move from his spot, paralyzed perhaps at the sight of a dying man with a pulse slipping through his consciousness.
Tony was still sweating his weight in water, his body temperature thrown out of whack by whatever was conflicting him. Perhaps it was a bug.. some kind of disease, or weird condition or freak virus. Or. Fuck, it could be anything.
“What was I thinking, listening to you,” he muttered, getting up to find some towels and a wide pitcher with cool water. He set them down on the ground by his feet, dunking a towel in the water and rinsing out the excess carefully. He used the moist towel to wipe the sweat around Tony's hairline that was making his hair stick to his face, and he tried to wipe the sweat gathering around his collar.
“This will be easier without this jacket,” with deft fingers, Alfie popped open the suit easily, lifting Tony up to remove the coat and leave him in his dress shirt. And perhaps he would have noticed the arc reactor if he wasn't so busy staring at the coat jacket.
It was Ralph Lauren's Purple Label. He turned it over in his hands. Looked at the sleeves and the stitching and finally, just to confirm his thoughts, he looked at the tag inside and without a doubt. Bespoke Ralph Lauren. Inside, embroidered in fine stitching, were the initials TS.
Purple Label.. just who the hell was this guy exactly??
Those suits could go for outrageous prices.
And he would know, too. It's the kind he had always wanted to fill his closet with, and yet, he'd be lucky if he ever managed to get his hands on one. Wherewherewherewherewhere had he seen this line? Tony momentarily forgotten in a fashion fit, Alfie stood and searched his precious magazine stack, magazine after magazine opened before he finally found the right one.
Vogue. Presenting Ralph Lauren's new line in a photo shoot with its honorary model. Tony.
Tony. Stark.
The Tony Stark.
Alfie blanched.