The Devil You Know 16
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A/N: Hey there, kiddies! Sorry for the delay. My writing muse has been playing dead for a while. Anyways, only one or two more chapters of DYK and then on to Mortality. IT’S VERY EXCITING. YISSS.
Also, I’m totally making up the shit about Asgard in this. I have this whooooole head canon about the world of Asgard that I’ll be getting into more in Mortality. *whistles innocently*
Reminders
It was Pepper who reminded him. Thank God for Pepper was a phrase Tony had uttered more than once, and because of such situations.
"Your anniversary is in a week, you know."
Tony shut off the torch and pulled up his face plate to look at her, dark eyes round like the proverbial deer-in-the-headlights.
"About that," he said, holding up one gloved, soot-covered finger. "...what?"
Pepper sighed and ducked her head to hide her smile. "Your anniversary," she said. "Same night as the museum benefit, right?"
Tony ducked his head and cleared his throat. "Well," he said, fidgeting awkwardly with the torch in his hand, "we didn't exactly start dating that night, but -- okay, okay, yeah." He cut himself off at the nauseated look starting to cross Pepper's face. "Guess that... that's as good a day as any."
He nodded and squinted at his work again, a hand on the face plate and ready to pull it back over his face.
Pepper stood, tablet folded under her palms, and watched Tony expectantly.
"Anything else?" he asked, raised hand still in limbo.
Pepper smiled indulgently. "Would you like me to make plans...?" she asked, gesturing meaningfully as she trailed off.
"Oh," Tony said, and there was that deer-in-the-headlights look again. "Right, uh." He chewed his bottom lip and looked around the room as though his disaster area of a workshop could give him answers. "How do I even do this?" he asked, shrugging. "I'm not exactly an expert on long-term relationships, and -- hell, it's not like I can get the guy flowers or something, right?" He crinkled his nose. "Isn't that kind of girly? Oh God, I hope he doesn't get me flowers!" He'd never be able to live that down.
Pepper sighed and looked dangerously close to rolling her eyes. "Take him out to dinner or something," she said. "A romantic touch wouldn't be a bad thing, but neither of you strike me as the overly sentimental type."
"'A romantic touch'," Tony echoed, batting his eyelashes mockingly. "Like what? Write him a poem or something?"
Pepper's brow crinkled in either concern, amusement, or both. "The thought of you writing poetry is frightening," she said.
Tony cleared his throat theatrically and said, "Roses are red, violets are blue, I like sex, and so do you!"
Pepper shut her eyes and rubbed at the bridge of her nose, though Tony swore he saw a hint of a smile there.
"It's our anniversary on Thursday," Tony said.
He expected a little more of a reaction from Loki than the vaguely distracted, "Huh."
Loki was sitting at Tony’s desk, a desk that the god had requisitioned as his own since he had started living in the Tower (wait, when had that happened, anyway?), and he was absorbed in the computer in front of him, long fingers pecking at keys now and then. Usually Loki was more absorbed in the bookshelf behind the desk than in the computer, and Tony was afraid to walk around to the other side of the desk and see what, exactly, Loki was doing on that thing.
Last time he’d seen Loki at this particular computer, New York had ended up with a herd of alpacas ravaging Central Park. Loki insisted he was not involved, but come on.
But anyway.
Tony folded his arms and arched an eyebrow at the god -- a look he'd borrowed from Loki's arsenal of looks-that-could-kill -- eyebrow arching slowly higher, higher, until Loki finally caught the hint and glanced up at him over the top of his (Tony's, really) laptop. He blinked at Tony's unimpressed stare and countered it with his own doe-eyed look (the bastard). "Our anniversary," he echoed. "Anniversary of what, exactly?"
This time Tony was the one blinking in confusion. Well done, Tony. You've somehow ended up with the one person more clueless when it comes to relationships than you.
"Anniversary of when we started dating." Still felt weird to say 'dating' in conjunction with him or Loki, let alone together.
Loki tilted his head. "Do you celebrate that on Midgard now?" he asked. "It's hard to keep track of your changing traditions." He waved his hand in a gesture that was flippant and vaguely dismissive (and vaguely insulting, really).
Tony wondered if he would have been better off never telling Loki about this. Too late now.
"Well, just keep your expectations that low, and we'll be alright."
Loki chuffed and smirked at Tony, leaning back in the ergonomic desk chair he'd also 'borrowed' from Tony. "I suppose it makes more sense than celebrating one's expulsion from his mother's birth canal every year."
Tony shook his head. He had to remind himself that Thor and Loki hadn't been on earth for this long since the Middle Ages. And wow was that a weird thought. "Still can't believe you don't celebrate birthdays on Asgard," he said. He'd found that out on his birthday, when Loki had hidden his embarrassment at not knowing about the 'gift-giving ritual', as he put it, by giving him something that would likely earn Tony another punch from Thor if he knew. Tony rather hoped Loki 'forgot' to get him a present next year too.
"Why bother?" Loki asked. "You'd lose track after a few centuries."
"Yes, but think of all the presents!" Tony replied, gesturing broadly. For some reason, he found himself envisioning mountains and mountains of horned helmets.
Loki shook his head. "Years pass differently on Asgard. Our sun is larger but we are farther from it, and it takes almost five of your years for one revolution." As he spoke, he spun his pointer finger in the air to illustrate.
Tony perked up at the mention of something science-related, even if it was astronomy. He was fascinated by the very idea of Asgard, of another planet with life, with humanoid creatures, even. "So... a four-year-old on your world would be twenty on ours."
"Very good," Loki replied wryly. "Shall I have JARVIS check your math?"
"Oh, shut up." He grinned as he regarded Loki for a long moment. "You know what, we're gonna give you and Thor birthdays." He wondered how unamused Loki would be if he got him a horse for his 'present'.
"Why?" Loki asked dryly. "Thor already has a day once a week here."
"Oh yeah." Tony moved to perch on the edge of the desk, started to swing one leg so that it 'accidentally' tapped Loki's thigh every once in a while. "We should rename Saturday 'Lokiday', since it’s already the most awesome day of the week. And celebrate with massive orgies." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Every week."
"I think we're getting off topic," Loki replied. He caught Tony's swinging foot and shoved it away from him, though he met Tony's smirk with his own.
"Right!" Tony all but chirped, remembering why he had come in here in the first place. "Anniversary. Thursday."
"Yes, I gathered," Loki replied patiently, if wearily. "But how does one celebrate an anniversary?"
Good question, Tony thought. "Uh," he began, eloquently, "as far as I know, mostly food and sex. At different times, generally, but hey."
"And how is this different than any other Thursday?"
Loki had a point. "Well, this time I'll try to make it special. Treat you like the princess you are."
"For the last time, Tony," Loki sighed, "stop comparing me to a Disney princess."
"Oh, come on, Snow White."
Loki grimaced. "Please, no," he said. "The whole seven dwarves thing just reminds me of Freya and of certain images I wish I could erase from my mind."
"Fine, then let down your hair, Rapunzel."
"Fuck you."
Tony laughed and bent to kiss Loki because he had to. Loki made a face but didn't move away.
"And here I was hoping you'd make the night special and put on that sea-shell bra."
Loki shoved Tony off the desk.
“So do you feel like a princess, yet?”
“By Urd, Stark, I swear I will kill you in your sleep.”
Tony chuckled, and he knew he had to be the only human on this planet who could laugh at a threat like that from a god and one-time super-villain. Moreover, he had to be the only one who could coax a smirk and an exasperated sigh from that god the next second.
Then again, he was probably the only human screwing said god (he hoped, anyway), so maybe he had an unfair advantage.
“Now, Loki,” Tony mock scolded, making a stern face at Loki over his plate. “If you did that, then who would take care of your needs?”
“Please,” Loki scoffed, cutting into his steak in a way Tony would describe as prissy (in his head, anyway; he didn’t have a death-wish), his long fingers manipulating the knife and fork with a distractingly fluid ease. “I could just as easily attend to my ‘needs’ with a conveniently shaped bit of produce.”
Tony didn’t choke on his wine, but it was a near thing. He covered up his snort of laughter with an unconvincing cough, throwing a sheepish grin at the turned-heads he’d earned form the table next to them. “Remind me to put bananas on the shopping list,” he said, and Loki smirked. Tony tried not to think too hard on that mental image.
He’d wanted to take Loki to that museum from a year ago, as a joke, but security had been less than impressed by that idea. Apparently holding hostages and carrying around a (fake) gun was frowned upon in certain circles.
So they’d gone down the street to this restaurant instead. It had a French name, La Fromage or something. Tony didn’t remember and didn’t care. It was a nice restaurant, upscale enough to keep the prices off the menu, where everyone wore suits and ties and didn’t talk with their mouth full. Boring, in other words, but Loki had a way of keeping things interesting.
And “interesting” was exactly what Tony would call the toes of one foot pressing into his thigh under the table.
Tony cleared his throat and fought the urge to squirm. Loki was the picture of innocence across the table, brows raised in a question even as his toes started to knead. “Something the matter, dearest?” he blithely asked. There was a hint of a smirk in that oh-so-polite smile.
“Loki,” Tony all but growled. The foot trailed higher, and Tony jumped, cursing, making the silverware rattle against the table. More questioning stares from other tables, this time less impressed, and Loki’s expression turned politely puzzled. The bastard. “I can’t take you anywhere,” Tony said in mock exasperation, one hand snaking under the table cloth to squeeze Loki’s socked foot.
“On the contrary,” Loki replied. “You can take me anywhere you like.” His grin turned wicked as he took another bite of steak, pulling the morsel off the fork with his teeth and tongue.
Tony cursed softly and sipped at his wine, mouth suddenly dry.
“Loki,” Tony said in a soft growl, licking his lips and tasting more wine, “I'm trying to be romantic, you know. Let's at least try to make it through dessert, for once.”
Loki arched an eyebrow, looking amused in that condescending way of his, as though Tony were a child proud of himself for peeing in the proper place for the first time. “Whyever would you do that?” he asked, his smile all crooked lips and gleaming teeth. “My way's more fun.”
The heel of Loki's foot pressed down into Tony's thigh, and Tony cursed - again - and tightened his grip on the be-socked toes attached to it.
“Hey, if you want bathroom sex that badly,” Tony mumbled, narrowing his eyes at his “date” as he trailed off meaningfully.
“Please,” Loki scoffed. “Not bathroom sex. Flying sex.”
Tony blinked. “What.”
“You know,” Loki blithely replied, gesturing with his wine glass, “flying sex. Your suit, my magic?” The smile Loki gave him over the rim of his glass was positively sinful.
Tony wasn't sure they were going to make it through dinner, never mind dessert. He cleared his throat and tried to push Loki's foot away again. “Romance,” he reminded Loki, “then the sex. Also, I'm not sure we should be saying sex so much in this kind of restaurant.”
Loki rolled his eyes and retracted the offending foot, eyeing Tony with a long-suffering look. “Romance,” he echoed dryly as he picked up his fork again. “You wouldn't know what to do with romance if it bit you in the arse.”
“There's only one thing I know to do to things that bite me in the ass,” Tony added with a wink. Loki shot him an unimpressed look across the table.
“Evidence says to the contrary,” Loki sniped, and as Tony was about to reply, he added exasperatedly, “But yes, yes, get on with the romance then. Though it's a bit late to be 'wooing' me.”
“Woo yourself, you ass,” Tony replied. More dirty looks from the lady to the left. He was lubricated enough to give her one right back. “Pepper said I should be a gentleman for once, since it's our anniversary.”
“Did she,” Loki said, again with that condescendingly amused smile. “What else did she say you should do, hmm?”
“She said I should write you a poem.”
That irritating smile shifted into something a little more worried. “Oh dear Odin.”
“Well,” Tony said, scratching his head, “not sure if she told me to in so many words, but. I did, so.” He cleared his throat theatrically and reached into his breast pocket.
Loki rubbed at his forehead. “Oh, this can't possibly end well,” he muttered.
Tony smirked at the hint of embarrassment in Loki's expression, and, unfolding the bit of notebook paper he'd drawn out, he rose to his feet. Loki furrowed his brow and eyed Tony warily.
“What are you doing?” the god asked flatly. “Do sit down.”
“Not until I have formally professed my love to you,” Tony answered, raising his voice to carry through the restaurant at this last phrase, “through poetry!” He smiled at the sea of confused stares around them and bowed theatrically for his “audience”. He cleared his throat dramatically and read:
“There once was a miniature Jotun
Whose ass was really quite smokin'.
To them he was small,
But to me he's quite tall,
And his is the fine ass that I'm pokin'.”
Tony bowed again and sat back down to a chorus of gossipy mutterings and scattered, confused clapping. Loki wiped a hand over his face and watched Tony through the fingers of one hand, biting his lip to keep either from cursing or from laughing.
“Happy Anniversary, toots,” Tony said around a mouthful of steak.
They still didn't make it to dessert.