If there's ever to be a time where Tony Stark is hushed by being given just what he wants, it's now. He can feel Thor's worry, but more than just the connection of electric flow that exists between them, it's the way that Thor gives in when he has every ability not to that makes the playboy -- former playboy? -- recoil. His hand tightens over his stomach as something moves against it and he glances down, snorting.
"Come here." It's a demand, because Tony doesn't ask, not even of Thor. He moves his hand away from the bump and takes Thor's bear paw to replace it. Large. Warm. Thor is always warm, like a patch of sunny grass or the outter casing of a combustion engine. Tony lays his fingers along Thor's knuckles. "I wouldn't do anything to risk her."
Not that they know the baby's sex, or Tony doesn't, but Thor's been calling it a her for a long time now.
"If you think I should stay here with Banner, I'll stay here with Banner." Oddly enough, that is probably safer, even with the Hulk. Thus far, the Hulk has never tried to hurt Tony. Not once.
His fingers slide over the swell of Tony's impossible stomach and he looks up into those rimmed eyes, waiting for something. Listening and feeling the calluses of Stark's fingers against his skin. Tony had always been cooler than him before but now his own sort of heat comes and goes-- Thor can feel it even now, stretched warm and thin under the cotton shirt that he wears. "I worry," he finally says.
Admits.
"I would no more see you stay locked up here than I myself would want to be." Thor laughs, quiet. "I think you far more graceful at it than I would be, and you are not graceful at it at all." His thumb strokes Stark's stomach idly. "It is your decision to make. But know this; I will not think in battle. I will protect you, and her, first. I-- oh."
Thor's eyes widen at the nudge under his palm. "Stark, she-- ha! She strikes!"
Tony doesn't live for Thor's smile, but he might as well, given the look that smoothes over his face as he watches Thor react. He's been feeling the child move off and on, but never quite like this. She's feisty. Which is worrying. Tony imagines that she'll be kicking his spine in within the month.
What can he expect from an Asgardian's offspring other than the evidently pre-requisite stretch marks? Tony's not sure about anything when it comes to this.
With Thor insisting on hanging around more often these days, he doesn't even feel alone, not like he had been at the start.
"She's going to be a slugger. I should make her a hammer rattle or something." Just so long as she doesn't fly around once she's born or try to fry them both during a temper tamtrum over a cookie, Tony thinks it might actually be all right.
Had Thor heard the concerns, he would have scoffed. He could only fly and command the elements through Mjolnir's magicks-- of course the child would not be doing that.
Not until she was older.
He laughs and rubs his palm over Stark's stomach, feeling the motion beneath the skin. How strange. Conception and birth, of course, are hardly unknown in Asgard-- Thor's own mother, after all, is the goddess of such things. But he has never been...
"We can discuss names later, okay? You've got to get suited up." It only takes Thor a moment to wish his armor into being. Not even Tony's suit is that quick. "But as long as it's not Thorina or something, fine. I'm not partially to anything in particular."
Tony has no idea what Thor might be getting at until those blue eyes don't leave him and his armor does not sparkle into existance over his torso. Tony frowns.
And tilts back his head.
And norrows his eyes.
And scoffs.
"Wouldn't it just have been easier if she helped Jane get pregnant with a mass of Thor-lings?"
"Thorina is a terrible name," Thor mutters. "And in any case, she will be Thordottir regardless." It's all muttered; he's still thinking. He knows he has to leave, but does not go.
Blond eyebrows raise at Stark's question. "I... had not considered. I only meant that perhaps she might help with the delivery, or know how to give you comfort." Of course Thor had not told his family. Not yet.
Sorry, family, I have slept with a mortal, as gods do, and got him pregnant. Not quite as gods do. The thought of Thor explaining to his parents about him makes Tony sneer a bit. He's stopped being self conscious about everything now that SHIELD and the Avengers know, but that doesn't mean he needs this getting out on the Asgard version of YouTube!
Tony's hands slip into his pockets. Prolonged contact is still strange to him. Maybe even moreso than carrying Thor's child.
"Like I said, we'll fight over names later because she's going to be a Stark and the only thing that is going to give me comfort is a whole lot of medication." He sets his hand on Thor's bare arm and squeezes. "Now go put on your curtain and get out of here."
It's not like Tony, a mere mortal, can meet the in-laws. Of which he doesn't have. Because he and Thor are complicated but not that complicated.
His hand drops from the man's stomach and he takes a step back with no further gestures of affection except for his smile. It is good. They are good, as they are. Thor has never had a precise definition of family-- his father sired the Valkyries on women other than Frigga, his brother is a stolen frost giant who has birthed a horse with eight-legs, and his blood mother is a titan of the universe.
Family, to Thor, has always been what you make of it. It is not a thing of vows and rings and sexual mores. It is joy, and love, and nothing more complicated than that-- though sometimes those things are complicated enough.
"Do not blow anything up." He swings Mjolnir in hand and actually laughs with a shake of his head before he leaps upward.
Six months pregnant with swollen ankles and no liquor makes Tony Stark a very grumpy man. He has trouble with little things, like tying his shoes and drilling into the engine of one of his favorite hotrods. The acidic smell of burning fumes kept doing him in and his back hurt all the time because Thor's little princess in waiting happened to have a fondness for Rogers' work out routine.
"No, I do not need help," Tony growled at Jarvis for the third time. Yes, Thor hasn't been to visit in awhile, but he is a prince and he has other duties than to see to the pregnant freak that insists on tinkering non-stop every day.
Still. Two weeks is a long time.
Tony's never lonely. One of the Avengers is always bothering him, especially Clint, who had just left with lamas DVDs shoved down his throat and a grin on his face. Something sparks and Tony draws his fingertips to his mouth to suck the pain away as the baby kicks.
"Well stop distracting your dad and let him work and maybe he won't shock us," he grumbles to his stomach and has Jarvis turn up the rock music.
Maybe the increase in the volume is the reason why Thor can get anywhere near the man without being heard. Stark is the only Avenger that Thor can consistently sneak up on, if he just bothers to use the handles on the doors or the codes that-- by now-- he has learned just by rote.
Two weeks is a heartbeat for an Asgardian. Two weeks is nothing, a breath, a half-breath. So how was it that the time had seemed eternal? He had sat in his father's halls and fidgeted with impatience until his mother had taken him aside with the intent to scold him and instead found herself with a potential grandchild.
They decided it was best, if the All-Father did not know, not to enlighten him. Yet. The child would be so far from Asgard that it was unlike Odin would ever meet it and Frigga could see something in her son's eyes, the careless beam of his smile, that-- as always-- made her protective of him.
Let Odin chase his tail; he would be no worse for it.
Now Thor stands in the doorway of Stark's workshop and watches the man; despite the noise playing he can hear Stark talking to the child, sees the way every now and again an absent hand leaves the work he does to brush over the swell of his stomach.
With a smile, Thor comes over and crouches down behind Stark, his knees sliding to settle to either side of that protruding stomach and his chin resting on a shoulder.
It is not Asgard, this tower. This man in his arms is not a god. But still here is something like home and Stark certainly family.
It doesn't startle him, Thor's sudden presence, because he knows when the song gets louder in his chest that the other is nearby. He is careful to set down the solder before he glances over his shoulder at the great blond beard. His hands are greasy so he won't return the touch other than to tilt his head back on Thor's opposite shoulder.
He doesn't shy away from the embrace. Thor's missed him, missed the little Princess. Without being told, Jarvis turns down the music and Tony stretches out his legs in front of him.
"I've decided to marry Barton," he jokes, a rumbling in his chest. "He's going to make an honest man of me."
"You are a liar and no honest man at all," Thor rumbles into his ear. He sits as Tony does, but keeps his knees up for the man to hang his arms on. Thor's own fingers slide between them until they are covering that large abdomen. "And Clint would kill you within a fortnight."
He bites gently at Stark's neck, sucking free the taste of sweat and grease and salt.
It's been awhile. Tony's had others since he and Thor have started this strange sort of relationship. He's never been exclusive the man, at least not until his little pot belly started to become obvious. But that's got everything to do with being self conscious and nothing at all to do with any notion of being faithful. Thor has others as well. They had never discussed their women, though Tony's known about Jane from the start and it doesn't bother him when Thor spends time in her bed.
That said, he's not really use to being celibate and there's only so much a hand can do. A small affection like this, teeth on his skin, leaves him shivering and he closes his eyes.
"Why would he kill me?" he complains half heartedly. "I'm a catch. A marvel. He'd be lucky to have me. Natasha might kill me though." Even if she pretended not to be jealous of how often the ex carnie visited Stark to watch him work or poke his belly and call him names. "Who else could be as amazing as me? No need to answer that, it was a trick question. How was Asgard? Did you bring me back an apple?"
It's all he wanted. Apples. Jesus, he craved them terribly.
"Had I, I would have brought my father's wrath with me as well," Thor said with a snort against the skin of Stark's shoulder. His nose traced the line of bone and muscle before he bit again, this time catching meat between his teeth-- not to hurt, not much-- but to mark. "I will fetch you apples. Later."
Now... now, there were other things he would taste on his tongue. Thor's fingers skimmed away from the growing child, intent to give attention to the father instead.
"Barton would not fetch you apples," he added, spreading Stark back onto the cool floor so that his mouth could roam as it would, taking rare time to relearn the lines of the man's body-- both old and new.
Well he's not going to argue if Thor's decided to express how much he's missed him with a tongue more clever during action than in using words. He shifts on the floor because it's not comfortable but the child is being still, a good little thing for Thor as if to say that Tony lies when he tells the god how much she squirms at all hours of the day and night.
"He brought me apple pie," Tony corrects, skin aching as Thor brings him to life, a medical oddity, a mystery of life. He should not exist as he is and yet...that's exactly what he's doing.
Existing. With the child of a god in his belly.
"He ate most of it though... No no, go back to the-- Yes...nnhn... There is perfect...."
Thor chuckles against warm skin and lavishes attention where Stark tells him until the man is opening up, breaking open, falling apart under his mouth and fingers. Thor enjoys this, right here, when there are no words left on that wicked tongue, when his own skill and pleasure with the task at hand is enough to silence the clever man below him.
He takes a pride in it, a possession. During these quiet moments Thor wants to be the only one that makes Stark bite his tongue like this. He wants his to be the only fingers on these broad, lean muscles. Just these times. Just these few moments. Just for this most rare thing.
Tony Stark is an easy man and the final, bitter flood across Thor's tongue is no victory-- but Stark's silence is.
"Come here." It's a demand, because Tony doesn't ask, not even of Thor. He moves his hand away from the bump and takes Thor's bear paw to replace it. Large. Warm. Thor is always warm, like a patch of sunny grass or the outter casing of a combustion engine. Tony lays his fingers along Thor's knuckles. "I wouldn't do anything to risk her."
Not that they know the baby's sex, or Tony doesn't, but Thor's been calling it a her for a long time now.
"If you think I should stay here with Banner, I'll stay here with Banner." Oddly enough, that is probably safer, even with the Hulk. Thus far, the Hulk has never tried to hurt Tony. Not once.
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His fingers slide over the swell of Tony's impossible stomach and he looks up into those rimmed eyes, waiting for something. Listening and feeling the calluses of Stark's fingers against his skin. Tony had always been cooler than him before but now his own sort of heat comes and goes-- Thor can feel it even now, stretched warm and thin under the cotton shirt that he wears. "I worry," he finally says.
Admits.
"I would no more see you stay locked up here than I myself would want to be." Thor laughs, quiet. "I think you far more graceful at it than I would be, and you are not graceful at it at all." His thumb strokes Stark's stomach idly. "It is your decision to make. But know this; I will not think in battle. I will protect you, and her, first. I-- oh."
Thor's eyes widen at the nudge under his palm. "Stark, she-- ha! She strikes!"
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What can he expect from an Asgardian's offspring other than the evidently pre-requisite stretch marks? Tony's not sure about anything when it comes to this.
With Thor insisting on hanging around more often these days, he doesn't even feel alone, not like he had been at the start.
"She's going to be a slugger. I should make her a hammer rattle or something." Just so long as she doesn't fly around once she's born or try to fry them both during a temper tamtrum over a cookie, Tony thinks it might actually be all right.
Reply
Not until she was older.
He laughs and rubs his palm over Stark's stomach, feeling the motion beneath the skin. How strange. Conception and birth, of course, are hardly unknown in Asgard-- Thor's own mother, after all, is the goddess of such things. But he has never been...
"Stark." Thor raises an eyebrow. "My mother."
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Tony has no idea what Thor might be getting at until those blue eyes don't leave him and his armor does not sparkle into existance over his torso. Tony frowns.
And tilts back his head.
And norrows his eyes.
And scoffs.
"Wouldn't it just have been easier if she helped Jane get pregnant with a mass of Thor-lings?"
Reply
Blond eyebrows raise at Stark's question. "I... had not considered. I only meant that perhaps she might help with the delivery, or know how to give you comfort." Of course Thor had not told his family. Not yet.
Reply
Tony's hands slip into his pockets. Prolonged contact is still strange to him. Maybe even moreso than carrying Thor's child.
"Like I said, we'll fight over names later because she's going to be a Stark and the only thing that is going to give me comfort is a whole lot of medication." He sets his hand on Thor's bare arm and squeezes. "Now go put on your curtain and get out of here."
It's not like Tony, a mere mortal, can meet the in-laws. Of which he doesn't have. Because he and Thor are complicated but not that complicated.
Reply
His hand drops from the man's stomach and he takes a step back with no further gestures of affection except for his smile. It is good. They are good, as they are. Thor has never had a precise definition of family-- his father sired the Valkyries on women other than Frigga, his brother is a stolen frost giant who has birthed a horse with eight-legs, and his blood mother is a titan of the universe.
Family, to Thor, has always been what you make of it. It is not a thing of vows and rings and sexual mores. It is joy, and love, and nothing more complicated than that-- though sometimes those things are complicated enough.
"Do not blow anything up." He swings Mjolnir in hand and actually laughs with a shake of his head before he leaps upward.
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"No, I do not need help," Tony growled at Jarvis for the third time. Yes, Thor hasn't been to visit in awhile, but he is a prince and he has other duties than to see to the pregnant freak that insists on tinkering non-stop every day.
Still. Two weeks is a long time.
Tony's never lonely. One of the Avengers is always bothering him, especially Clint, who had just left with lamas DVDs shoved down his throat and a grin on his face. Something sparks and Tony draws his fingertips to his mouth to suck the pain away as the baby kicks.
"Well stop distracting your dad and let him work and maybe he won't shock us," he grumbles to his stomach and has Jarvis turn up the rock music.
Reply
Two weeks is a heartbeat for an Asgardian. Two weeks is nothing, a breath, a half-breath. So how was it that the time had seemed eternal? He had sat in his father's halls and fidgeted with impatience until his mother had taken him aside with the intent to scold him and instead found herself with a potential grandchild.
They decided it was best, if the All-Father did not know, not to enlighten him. Yet. The child would be so far from Asgard that it was unlike Odin would ever meet it and Frigga could see something in her son's eyes, the careless beam of his smile, that-- as always-- made her protective of him.
Let Odin chase his tail; he would be no worse for it.
Now Thor stands in the doorway of Stark's workshop and watches the man; despite the noise playing he can hear Stark talking to the child, sees the way every now and again an absent hand leaves the work he does to brush over the swell of his stomach.
With a smile, Thor comes over and crouches down behind Stark, his knees sliding to settle to either side of that protruding stomach and his chin resting on a shoulder.
It is not Asgard, this tower. This man in his arms is not a god. But still here is something like home and Stark certainly family.
Reply
He doesn't shy away from the embrace. Thor's missed him, missed the little Princess. Without being told, Jarvis turns down the music and Tony stretches out his legs in front of him.
"I've decided to marry Barton," he jokes, a rumbling in his chest. "He's going to make an honest man of me."
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He bites gently at Stark's neck, sucking free the taste of sweat and grease and salt.
Reply
That said, he's not really use to being celibate and there's only so much a hand can do. A small affection like this, teeth on his skin, leaves him shivering and he closes his eyes.
"Why would he kill me?" he complains half heartedly. "I'm a catch. A marvel. He'd be lucky to have me. Natasha might kill me though." Even if she pretended not to be jealous of how often the ex carnie visited Stark to watch him work or poke his belly and call him names. "Who else could be as amazing as me? No need to answer that, it was a trick question. How was Asgard? Did you bring me back an apple?"
It's all he wanted. Apples. Jesus, he craved them terribly.
Reply
Now... now, there were other things he would taste on his tongue. Thor's fingers skimmed away from the growing child, intent to give attention to the father instead.
"Barton would not fetch you apples," he added, spreading Stark back onto the cool floor so that his mouth could roam as it would, taking rare time to relearn the lines of the man's body-- both old and new.
Reply
"He brought me apple pie," Tony corrects, skin aching as Thor brings him to life, a medical oddity, a mystery of life. He should not exist as he is and yet...that's exactly what he's doing.
Existing. With the child of a god in his belly.
"He ate most of it though... No no, go back to the-- Yes...nnhn... There is perfect...."
Reply
He takes a pride in it, a possession. During these quiet moments Thor wants to be the only one that makes Stark bite his tongue like this. He wants his to be the only fingers on these broad, lean muscles. Just these times. Just these few moments. Just for this most rare thing.
Tony Stark is an easy man and the final, bitter flood across Thor's tongue is no victory-- but Stark's silence is.
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