Norsekink prompt: Goodbye, My Coney Island Baby
norsekink prompt is here, image that inspired the prompt is here.
Goodbye, My Coney Island Baby
If they had known Loki was there at all, things might have turned out differently, although Tony could not immediately define how.
The Avengers were battling Dr. Doom and his flock of evil minions. When Bruce was hit by a blast hard enough to stun him, Steve had rushed to his defense. The second blast hit Steve squarely, but Tony, who happened to be looking straight at him, was the only one who saw Loki appear out of nowhere and raise his hands. The lethal yellow blast had turned green just before it made contact with Captain America. There was a boiling glow, and when it faded Tony saw...
...a towheaded little boy, about six years old, standing in the middle of the battleground, looking bewildered and terrified. There was no sign of Steve. Tony was forced to reach the conclusion the little boy was Steve.
Facing him, looking down thoughtfully, a tall and terrible figure in his horned helmet, was Loki.
Tony's heart constricted and he immediately reversed his jets to head to the rescue.
He was too late. As he desperately tried to make more speed, Loki removed his helmet and dropped to one knee before the child, saying something Tony could not hear. He couldn't see Steve's little face, but Loki smiled at him, then rose to his feet in a fluid movement and extended the hand not holding the helmet.
Steve took it, and the two vanished in a flash of green.
Tony brought himself to a horrified midair halt, looking at the spot where his team mate and their sworn enemy had vanished. All he could see in his mind was Loki's smile. Tony could not recall ever seeing a smile like that on Loki's face before. It had looked warm and unguarded, and on any other face it would have been reassuring.
The question was, what kind of plans could Loki have for Steve, that would bring him such pleasure to think about?
****
It wasn't until they had Doom and his men corralled and under arrest that they could even think about looking for Steve and Loki. There was no sign of either of them on the battleground, no trace of them at any of Loki's known lairs, and Dr. Doom denied any involvement by Loki in the day's events. Apparently, Thor's brother had simply turned up to see what was going on, and then took advantage of the situation.
The question was, where in hell was he? And, by extension, where was Steve?
"What are we supposed to do? Put out an Amber Alert for Captain America?" Coulson demanded.
"We can't stop looking," Tony argued furiously.
"Nobody said we were going to stop looking," Coulson retorted. "I just don't know where." Coulson sounded weary and frightened, which scared Tony worse than anything.
"Well," Natasha said grimly, "we need to think of something, before it's too late."
"I do not believe my brother would harm him," Thor protested weakly. "Not in the form of a child. He would not do such a thing." Nobody argued with him. Nobody needed to. When they caught up with Loki, the circumstances would speak for themselves.
Tony went back out, by now disorganized and desperate. When he got back to the Mansion to check in, there was still no sign of Steve, and no messages from anyone, not even Pepper, who refused to stay home doing nothing and had gone with Natasha to help search.
"Where is he, Bucky?" Tony said out loud to the Bernese Mountain Dog who was supposed to be Thor's, but in practice belonged to all the Avengers. "Where's Steve, big guy?"
Bucky sat up alertly, and a moment later the doorbell rang. The big dog dashed toward the door, wagging his tail and making noises in his throat that indicated he already knew and loved their visitor. The other Avengers wouldn't use the doorbell, but sweet-tempered Bucky had never learned to think of Loki as an enemy...
Tony dashed after the dog, yanked the front door open.
Standing on the doorstep, wearing an expression several degrees less haughty than his normal one, was Loki. In his arms, head resting on his shoulder, unconscious and still about six years old, was Steve.
No. Not unconscious, because as Loki moved forward and Tony blocked him, the child stirred, yawned, and tightened the arm he had slung around Loki's neck, burrowing into the skinny supervillain's collarbone. Loki patted Steve's back gently, and gave Tony a facsimile of his usual supercilious look.
"Are you going to take him, or shall we just stand here on the doorstep until the spell wears off?" he demanded quietly. He glanced down at the dog, who was bumping against him and winding his enormous, furry body around Loki's legs. "Hello, Bucky. As you see, I have brought Stevie home to you."
Stevie?
"What the hell did you do to him?" Tony demanded, instinctively holding out his arms for his team mate before being visited with the awareness of just how weird that was. Loki obligingly attempted to affect the transfer, although he found himself having to disentangle Steve's arms when the sleepy child tried to cling to him. Tony was treated to the entirely surreal experience of Loki--Loki!--murmuring soothingly as he gently pried Stevie's--Steve's--arms loose and handed him to Tony. Tony was vaguely aware that you were supposed to support the heads of tiny babies when you handled them, but Steve seemed a few years beyond that necessity. Although by now he appeared to be utterly, bonelessly asleep, so perhaps the exaggerated care Loki took in the handover was a good thing, at that.
Despite the utter weirdness of the situation, Tony felt a flush of relief at having Steve in his arms, tiny and defenceless as he was. He managed to restrain the urge to yell at Loki, instead repeating in a hissing whisper,
"What did you do to him? Where have you been?"
Loki cocked an eyebrow. "Now there is gratitude for you. If it had not been for me, Doom's curse would have killed him. I was able to commute the spell before it struck him--"
"You couldn't just have deflected it?" Tony demanded.
Loki looked thoughtful. "Certainly. Of course, had I done so it would have killed either Barton or Romanov instead of Rogers, but I will keep that in mind for future reference: it matters not to you what happens to--"
"All right, all right," Tony snarled. "You couldn't deflect it, so you just turned it into something non-lethal. Thank you, I'm grateful. Really. Where have you been ever since?"
Loki shrugged. "It occurred to me that the midst of a superhero battle was a poor place for a small child. So I simply asked him where he would most like to be, and we spent the rest of the day at a place called 'Coney Island.' Oh, I must not forget--" Loki made a gesture as though rummaging in his pockets, although Tony was quite sure there were no pockets in his elaborate costume and, from thin air, produced a rather dilapidated stuffed mouse. He extended the toy to Tony, who adjusted his grip on Steve to accept it.
"What is this?" he asked.
"We won it in what was presented as a game of skill, involving throwing balls at a stack of bottles." Loki frowned. "I am quite sure there was chicanery involved--the bottles appeared to be more securely fastened than fairness would dictate. However--" he cheered up "--we were able to overcome that handicap with a little charm of our own. After that we rode in the bumping cars, and on wooden horses that went around and around in circles--which seems rather pointless, frankly, though the accompanying music was pleasant enough, and I suppose it would be entertaining for small children who lack horses of their own--and on the roller coaster, and then through what was presented to us as a house of horrors, which it most definitely was not. At least," Loki amended, "it was not when we went through it. I expect the guests who followed us will have a more exciting adventure, at least until the spell wears off." He smiled, and that was the smile Tony expected of him, sharp-edged and feral, not the almost innocent, even sweet smile that had given Tony such a fright earlier in the day.
And then the earlier smile came back and Loki reached out to pet Steve's tousled blond head. Tony was too startled to draw back in time.
That was the point at which he noticed the sticky red stain on Loki's chest.
"What is that?" he demanded, hoping it wasn't what it looked like, but unable to think of any other explanation.
Loki looked down at himself, made a noise of annoyance, and then, to Tony's horrified disgust, rubbed at the stain with an inquisitive fingertip and licked the finger. He looked up with a shrug.
"Ketchup," he explained. "Which reminds me, you need not concern yourself about supper, as we ate a number of rather outlandish comestibles over the course of the day. I was assured that the candy was not actually made of cotton, nor were there any dogs involved in the--" Loki's expression turned interrogative and anxious. Tony found himself rushing to reassure him:
"No, no, they're not made of dogs. It's a joke, because there's a kind of small dog that sort of looks like--never mind. You didn't really eat a dog."
"That is what the vendor told me, and Stevie seemed familiar with the item, so I felt it was probably safe to permit him to have one. His shirt may need to be laundered, although when the spell wears off and it turns back into his normal garb, the stains may not remain. If they do, I believe the mustard is a greater cause for concern than the ketchup." Loki squared his shoulders as he wrapped up his debriefing. "The spell should last for only about twelve hours, so if you put him to bed now he will certainly wake as himself, with no ill effects. Well, perhaps a stomach-ache, though I did endeavour to exercise restraint in the matter of foodstuffs. His clothing should transform back with him, though it might be better not to risk leaving him in it overnight, just in case." Loki made the checking-his-pockets gesture again, and then nodded. "I believe that is everything. Except--" he stepped forward again, and this time Tony didn't recoil. Leaning close to Steve's ear, Loki said quietly, "You will remember only what gave you pleasure from this day. All else will be forgotten." He stepped back and caught Tony's eye. "There is some chance he will believe all this to be a memory from childhood. Do not disabuse him of the idea, will you?"
"Promise," Tony replied. Loki smiled the sweet smile again, and there was an edge of sadness in it that momentarily made Tony's throat ache. Then he touched Steve's head again, reached down to rub Bucky's ears, and vanished.
Tony stood there a moment. For no particular reason, he glanced down. There was a rectangle of paper lying on the doorstep, obviously something that fell from Loki's otherworldly pockets at some point when he reached into them. Gently juggling Steve, Tony bent to retrieve it.
It was a photograph, apparently taken by one of the boardwalk photographers. There was Steve, grinning like a little boy having the time of his life with his very favourite uncle. He was sitting on Loki's shoulders. Thor's evil younger brother was steadying him with a hand on each knee, and smiling at the camera like he didn't have a care in the world.
Tony called Bucky and went back into the house. He detoured through the kitchen and set the photo on the counter, anchored at one corner with the paper napkin holder. He'd figure out what to do with that tomorrow.
Then he carried Captain America upstairs to bed.
****
Steve was still asleep, still six, Bucky lying across the foot of the bed like a giant teddy bear, when the others trickled back in from searching. Thor was quietly triumphant, if more relieved than he wanted to admit, to find his faith in his brother justified. Tony didn't offer any details.
Steve woke up the next morning his proper age, and came sheepishly downstairs to apologize for worrying everyone.
"Do you remember what happened?" Clint asked as he handed Steve a cup of coffee--the solicitous gesture the only sign Clint would ever give that he'd been worried.
Steve took the cup with a grateful smile, sitting at the counter with Bucky's huge head mostly in his lap. "I have no idea how, but I remember being at Coney Island with Loki for most of the day."
"Really?" Tony said carefully. "You're sure you're not... remembering something from when you were a kid? Getting it mixed up with fighting Loki yesterday?"
Steve shook his head. "No. I had bad asthma when I was a youngster, so I was never allowed to go on the rollercoaster or the haunted house rides, in case the excitement set me off. My father thought the games were a cheat and a waste of money, and my mother didn't like for me to eat things like hot dogs or cotton candy. Loki, as you can imagine, didn't have quite so many rules. He let me do pretty much everything I always used to wish I could, when I went to Coney Island as a kid." He laughed. "Except for the carousel. That was one ride I was always allowed to go on, so I didn't much want to yesterday. Loki really liked it, though."
Tony perked up. "Seriously?"
"Oh, yeah. We had to look at all the horses before he'd let me choose one, to make sure we got the ones we liked most. He wanted to ride it again before we left." Steve smiled. "It was really funny and... kind of sweet. I suppose he'd never been to an amusement park before."
"We do not have such things on Asgard," Thor admitted. Then he insisted, "But you were not harmed in any way?"
Steve shook his head. "No. I'm awfully sorry I left you guys in the lurch like that, but if I had to be six again, it was a wonderful way to spend the day. And... it seemed like Loki was enjoying himself, too." He looked down at his hands, and Tony suddenly remembered Loki extending his, just before they vanished. Steve must have spent the whole day holding Loki's hand, while they walked around Coney Island and decided what they wanted to do next.
And then Tony thought of something, looked around. "Does anyone remember seeing a photo here on the counter? Stuck under the napkin holder?"
Natasha shook her head. "No, and I was down first. What photo?"
Tony paused. "Nothing. Just a keepsake. I guess... someone came and picked it up." He looked up and realized Steve was looking at him, knew what he was talking about. Softly, Tony added, "Maybe someone else wanted to remember the day, too."
Looking wistful, Steve nodded.
Goodbye, My Coney Island Baby
If they had known Loki was there at all, things might have turned out differently, although Tony could not immediately define how.
The Avengers were battling Dr. Doom and his flock of evil minions. When Bruce was hit by a blast hard enough to stun him, Steve had rushed to his defense. The second blast hit Steve squarely, but Tony, who happened to be looking straight at him, was the only one who saw Loki appear out of nowhere and raise his hands. The lethal yellow blast had turned green just before it made contact with Captain America. There was a boiling glow, and when it faded Tony saw...
...a towheaded little boy, about six years old, standing in the middle of the battleground, looking bewildered and terrified. There was no sign of Steve. Tony was forced to reach the conclusion the little boy was Steve.
Facing him, looking down thoughtfully, a tall and terrible figure in his horned helmet, was Loki.
Tony's heart constricted and he immediately reversed his jets to head to the rescue.
He was too late. As he desperately tried to make more speed, Loki removed his helmet and dropped to one knee before the child, saying something Tony could not hear. He couldn't see Steve's little face, but Loki smiled at him, then rose to his feet in a fluid movement and extended the hand not holding the helmet.
Steve took it, and the two vanished in a flash of green.
Tony brought himself to a horrified midair halt, looking at the spot where his team mate and their sworn enemy had vanished. All he could see in his mind was Loki's smile. Tony could not recall ever seeing a smile like that on Loki's face before. It had looked warm and unguarded, and on any other face it would have been reassuring.
The question was, what kind of plans could Loki have for Steve, that would bring him such pleasure to think about?
****
It wasn't until they had Doom and his men corralled and under arrest that they could even think about looking for Steve and Loki. There was no sign of either of them on the battleground, no trace of them at any of Loki's known lairs, and Dr. Doom denied any involvement by Loki in the day's events. Apparently, Thor's brother had simply turned up to see what was going on, and then took advantage of the situation.
The question was, where in hell was he? And, by extension, where was Steve?
"What are we supposed to do? Put out an Amber Alert for Captain America?" Coulson demanded.
"We can't stop looking," Tony argued furiously.
"Nobody said we were going to stop looking," Coulson retorted. "I just don't know where." Coulson sounded weary and frightened, which scared Tony worse than anything.
"Well," Natasha said grimly, "we need to think of something, before it's too late."
"I do not believe my brother would harm him," Thor protested weakly. "Not in the form of a child. He would not do such a thing." Nobody argued with him. Nobody needed to. When they caught up with Loki, the circumstances would speak for themselves.
Tony went back out, by now disorganized and desperate. When he got back to the Mansion to check in, there was still no sign of Steve, and no messages from anyone, not even Pepper, who refused to stay home doing nothing and had gone with Natasha to help search.
"Where is he, Bucky?" Tony said out loud to the Bernese Mountain Dog who was supposed to be Thor's, but in practice belonged to all the Avengers. "Where's Steve, big guy?"
Bucky sat up alertly, and a moment later the doorbell rang. The big dog dashed toward the door, wagging his tail and making noises in his throat that indicated he already knew and loved their visitor. The other Avengers wouldn't use the doorbell, but sweet-tempered Bucky had never learned to think of Loki as an enemy...
Tony dashed after the dog, yanked the front door open.
Standing on the doorstep, wearing an expression several degrees less haughty than his normal one, was Loki. In his arms, head resting on his shoulder, unconscious and still about six years old, was Steve.
No. Not unconscious, because as Loki moved forward and Tony blocked him, the child stirred, yawned, and tightened the arm he had slung around Loki's neck, burrowing into the skinny supervillain's collarbone. Loki patted Steve's back gently, and gave Tony a facsimile of his usual supercilious look.
"Are you going to take him, or shall we just stand here on the doorstep until the spell wears off?" he demanded quietly. He glanced down at the dog, who was bumping against him and winding his enormous, furry body around Loki's legs. "Hello, Bucky. As you see, I have brought Stevie home to you."
Stevie?
"What the hell did you do to him?" Tony demanded, instinctively holding out his arms for his team mate before being visited with the awareness of just how weird that was. Loki obligingly attempted to affect the transfer, although he found himself having to disentangle Steve's arms when the sleepy child tried to cling to him. Tony was treated to the entirely surreal experience of Loki--Loki!--murmuring soothingly as he gently pried Stevie's--Steve's--arms loose and handed him to Tony. Tony was vaguely aware that you were supposed to support the heads of tiny babies when you handled them, but Steve seemed a few years beyond that necessity. Although by now he appeared to be utterly, bonelessly asleep, so perhaps the exaggerated care Loki took in the handover was a good thing, at that.
Despite the utter weirdness of the situation, Tony felt a flush of relief at having Steve in his arms, tiny and defenceless as he was. He managed to restrain the urge to yell at Loki, instead repeating in a hissing whisper,
"What did you do to him? Where have you been?"
Loki cocked an eyebrow. "Now there is gratitude for you. If it had not been for me, Doom's curse would have killed him. I was able to commute the spell before it struck him--"
"You couldn't just have deflected it?" Tony demanded.
Loki looked thoughtful. "Certainly. Of course, had I done so it would have killed either Barton or Romanov instead of Rogers, but I will keep that in mind for future reference: it matters not to you what happens to--"
"All right, all right," Tony snarled. "You couldn't deflect it, so you just turned it into something non-lethal. Thank you, I'm grateful. Really. Where have you been ever since?"
Loki shrugged. "It occurred to me that the midst of a superhero battle was a poor place for a small child. So I simply asked him where he would most like to be, and we spent the rest of the day at a place called 'Coney Island.' Oh, I must not forget--" Loki made a gesture as though rummaging in his pockets, although Tony was quite sure there were no pockets in his elaborate costume and, from thin air, produced a rather dilapidated stuffed mouse. He extended the toy to Tony, who adjusted his grip on Steve to accept it.
"What is this?" he asked.
"We won it in what was presented as a game of skill, involving throwing balls at a stack of bottles." Loki frowned. "I am quite sure there was chicanery involved--the bottles appeared to be more securely fastened than fairness would dictate. However--" he cheered up "--we were able to overcome that handicap with a little charm of our own. After that we rode in the bumping cars, and on wooden horses that went around and around in circles--which seems rather pointless, frankly, though the accompanying music was pleasant enough, and I suppose it would be entertaining for small children who lack horses of their own--and on the roller coaster, and then through what was presented to us as a house of horrors, which it most definitely was not. At least," Loki amended, "it was not when we went through it. I expect the guests who followed us will have a more exciting adventure, at least until the spell wears off." He smiled, and that was the smile Tony expected of him, sharp-edged and feral, not the almost innocent, even sweet smile that had given Tony such a fright earlier in the day.
And then the earlier smile came back and Loki reached out to pet Steve's tousled blond head. Tony was too startled to draw back in time.
That was the point at which he noticed the sticky red stain on Loki's chest.
"What is that?" he demanded, hoping it wasn't what it looked like, but unable to think of any other explanation.
Loki looked down at himself, made a noise of annoyance, and then, to Tony's horrified disgust, rubbed at the stain with an inquisitive fingertip and licked the finger. He looked up with a shrug.
"Ketchup," he explained. "Which reminds me, you need not concern yourself about supper, as we ate a number of rather outlandish comestibles over the course of the day. I was assured that the candy was not actually made of cotton, nor were there any dogs involved in the--" Loki's expression turned interrogative and anxious. Tony found himself rushing to reassure him:
"No, no, they're not made of dogs. It's a joke, because there's a kind of small dog that sort of looks like--never mind. You didn't really eat a dog."
"That is what the vendor told me, and Stevie seemed familiar with the item, so I felt it was probably safe to permit him to have one. His shirt may need to be laundered, although when the spell wears off and it turns back into his normal garb, the stains may not remain. If they do, I believe the mustard is a greater cause for concern than the ketchup." Loki squared his shoulders as he wrapped up his debriefing. "The spell should last for only about twelve hours, so if you put him to bed now he will certainly wake as himself, with no ill effects. Well, perhaps a stomach-ache, though I did endeavour to exercise restraint in the matter of foodstuffs. His clothing should transform back with him, though it might be better not to risk leaving him in it overnight, just in case." Loki made the checking-his-pockets gesture again, and then nodded. "I believe that is everything. Except--" he stepped forward again, and this time Tony didn't recoil. Leaning close to Steve's ear, Loki said quietly, "You will remember only what gave you pleasure from this day. All else will be forgotten." He stepped back and caught Tony's eye. "There is some chance he will believe all this to be a memory from childhood. Do not disabuse him of the idea, will you?"
"Promise," Tony replied. Loki smiled the sweet smile again, and there was an edge of sadness in it that momentarily made Tony's throat ache. Then he touched Steve's head again, reached down to rub Bucky's ears, and vanished.
Tony stood there a moment. For no particular reason, he glanced down. There was a rectangle of paper lying on the doorstep, obviously something that fell from Loki's otherworldly pockets at some point when he reached into them. Gently juggling Steve, Tony bent to retrieve it.
It was a photograph, apparently taken by one of the boardwalk photographers. There was Steve, grinning like a little boy having the time of his life with his very favourite uncle. He was sitting on Loki's shoulders. Thor's evil younger brother was steadying him with a hand on each knee, and smiling at the camera like he didn't have a care in the world.
Tony called Bucky and went back into the house. He detoured through the kitchen and set the photo on the counter, anchored at one corner with the paper napkin holder. He'd figure out what to do with that tomorrow.
Then he carried Captain America upstairs to bed.
****
Steve was still asleep, still six, Bucky lying across the foot of the bed like a giant teddy bear, when the others trickled back in from searching. Thor was quietly triumphant, if more relieved than he wanted to admit, to find his faith in his brother justified. Tony didn't offer any details.
Steve woke up the next morning his proper age, and came sheepishly downstairs to apologize for worrying everyone.
"Do you remember what happened?" Clint asked as he handed Steve a cup of coffee--the solicitous gesture the only sign Clint would ever give that he'd been worried.
Steve took the cup with a grateful smile, sitting at the counter with Bucky's huge head mostly in his lap. "I have no idea how, but I remember being at Coney Island with Loki for most of the day."
"Really?" Tony said carefully. "You're sure you're not... remembering something from when you were a kid? Getting it mixed up with fighting Loki yesterday?"
Steve shook his head. "No. I had bad asthma when I was a youngster, so I was never allowed to go on the rollercoaster or the haunted house rides, in case the excitement set me off. My father thought the games were a cheat and a waste of money, and my mother didn't like for me to eat things like hot dogs or cotton candy. Loki, as you can imagine, didn't have quite so many rules. He let me do pretty much everything I always used to wish I could, when I went to Coney Island as a kid." He laughed. "Except for the carousel. That was one ride I was always allowed to go on, so I didn't much want to yesterday. Loki really liked it, though."
Tony perked up. "Seriously?"
"Oh, yeah. We had to look at all the horses before he'd let me choose one, to make sure we got the ones we liked most. He wanted to ride it again before we left." Steve smiled. "It was really funny and... kind of sweet. I suppose he'd never been to an amusement park before."
"We do not have such things on Asgard," Thor admitted. Then he insisted, "But you were not harmed in any way?"
Steve shook his head. "No. I'm awfully sorry I left you guys in the lurch like that, but if I had to be six again, it was a wonderful way to spend the day. And... it seemed like Loki was enjoying himself, too." He looked down at his hands, and Tony suddenly remembered Loki extending his, just before they vanished. Steve must have spent the whole day holding Loki's hand, while they walked around Coney Island and decided what they wanted to do next.
And then Tony thought of something, looked around. "Does anyone remember seeing a photo here on the counter? Stuck under the napkin holder?"
Natasha shook her head. "No, and I was down first. What photo?"
Tony paused. "Nothing. Just a keepsake. I guess... someone came and picked it up." He looked up and realized Steve was looking at him, knew what he was talking about. Softly, Tony added, "Maybe someone else wanted to remember the day, too."
Looking wistful, Steve nodded.