Chapter Text
0
Tony drives himself to his own demise, because if he’s going down, he’s going down in style, goddammit.
He parks his Audi in the driveway. It’s dark, but the windows glow with a soft orange light. He checks his watch; ten minutes left.
He gets out of the car, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair to take a proper look at the house. Well, it floats somewhere between house and mansion, this thing that seems to be made entirely of glass and dark wood, surrounded by trees, overseeing the lake. He expected something dark and looming, something straight out of a horror flick from the thirties. This isn’t that. It’s cozy, almost, in a pretentious, over-the-top way.
“Fucking gods,” Tony mutters and slams the car door shut.
He keeps an eye on the entrance of the house, but nothing happens, nobody comes out, it doesn’t even open on its own with a long screech, and isn’t that a real disappointment. Tony gets his bag from the trunk and walks up to the house, not letting himself hesitate. He checks his phone on the way. No missed calls, no texts, hell, he doesn’t even have a signal here. Of course not, what was he thinking?
Tony sighs and slides his phone back into his pocket. Don’t try to run, his mother told him, adjusting his leather jacket to her satisfaction. Where the fuck is he even supposed to run, New Jersey? His dad was on his fourth drink when Tony left, so if he’s lucky, he’s passed out on the sofa by now and doesn’t have to think about the media circus he’ll have to deal with when he gets sober enough to smile into the nearest camera. And Jarvis will –
Ah, no. Tony takes care not to trip on the few steps of stairs that lead up to the entrance. Better not to think about that. Maybe it’s good that there’s no signal here.
He stands in front of the door for a second and waits, not even knowing for what. Nothing happens. He doesn’t see a doorbell, so he drops his bag and hammers his fist against the door a couple times. He’s not in the mood for subtlety.
“Hey, anyone home? Your delivery’s here! Come and pick it up within the next ten seconds or I’ll go ahead and consider our deal null and void!”
“Oh, but we haven’t made a deal yet, have we?”
Tony doesn’t flinch. He’s very proud of himself for that one. Again, fucking gods.
He turns around and sees the god in question standing far too close to Tony’s car, bent at the hip to look through the passenger window, hands folded neatly on his back. His voice carries easily over the short distance.
“Is this your car?”
“No, I walked,” Tony deadpans, not letting the god out of his sight.
The god – Loki, Tony reminds himself, this is Loki – straightens and smiles, a flash of white teeth in the moonlight. “All alone?”
“My nanny didn’t want to go past the ‘don’t trespass, ancient weirdo ahead’ sign. Can you get the fuck away from my car? Thanks.”
Loki does bring some distance between himself and the car, but only to come toward Tony. On second thought, Tony prefers it when Loki stayed the fuck away from him, but now it’s too late to reconsider. Well, it’s too late, full stop.
He’s never seen Loki from up close before.
“You’re late,” Loki says, tone idle, as he starts walking up the stairs. His voice is smooth velvet, deep, way too nice to listen to.
“Traffic,” Tony retorts, and gets a raised eyebrow in response.
“I offered to have someone pick you up for a reason.”
“And I declined for a reason. Funny how that works, huh?”
“Hilarious,” Loki says. He sounds actually amused, the fucker. “Your name?”
“Tony. At your service, I guess. What do you wanna see, a bow or a curtsey? Or should I just get on my knees right away so we can get that over with?”
“Tony,” Loki says, apparently choosing to ignore everything else Tony said, “is not your name.”
“What, do you want to see my birth certificate?”
Loki just looks at him. Green eyes, too green. A smirk, pulling at thin lips. Something about his stare makes Tony want to take a step back, get away from him. Ancient weirdo, indeed.
“Anthony Edward Stark,” he says, voice tight. “Satisfied?”
“We’ll see.” Loki walks past Tony to the door. “I am Loki.”
“Duh.”
“Take your bag, please.”
Tony grits his teeth and picks up his bag, following Loki into the house. It’s just as nice on the inside, but Tony doesn’t have time to appreciate the interior design. He’s too busy trying to stay calm.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Loki asks, nearly giving Tony whiplash.
“What?”
“Tea,” Loki repeats. He motions for Tony to follow him with a light jerk of his head. “Or coffee? Something else?”
Tony didn’t expect to be offered a drink at all. “Uh. Coffee’s fine.”
Loki leads him to a kitchen. “Please, take a seat.”
Tony slowly puts his bag on the floor and sits down on one of the stools at the island. Loki turns his back to him, getting the kettle going, starting a nice looking coffee machine. He’s dressed in normal clothes, black slacks, a button-down that fits him just right, sleeves rolled up. He looks like a man. He looks tired.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two,” Tony says. “You?”
“One thousand and fifty-six.” Loki pauses, hand stilling over a box with various tea bags. “No, fifty-seven.”
Huh. “That’s – old.”
“I know you think so.” Loki turns around and leans against the counter. “They tell me you volunteered?”
“Yep.”
Loki’s polite smile stays in place, but his eyes narrow by a margin. “How brave of you. Why?”
“Better me than someone else.”
“And noble, too. You know what awaits you, then?”
Tony is starting to get uncomfortable. Well. More uncomfortable. “Not… really.”
“Oh, you must know the gist of it.”
Loki puts a cup filled with steaming coffee in front of Tony and leans against the kitchen island, long, pale fingers wrapped around his own cup of tea. He looks at Tony, expectant. Tony swallows. He’s good at running his mouth, but he can’t let himself forget that this is the god who’s been holding New York in the palm of his hand for the better part of a century.
“Three months,” Tony says carefully. “Right? And then you let me go.”
“Three lunar cycles, yes.”
Pretentious fuck. Tony rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, whatever. So, what happens now?”
“Why, we make a deal, of course. If you’re ready?”
Tony has no idea what he’s supposed to be ready for. “Sure, big guy. Hit me with your best shot.”
Loki’s takes a sip of his tea. He puts the cup down, looking at Tony. His smile is gone, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Tony’s heart beat faster. His stomach clenches, he swallows down the lump of fear that threatens to rise up from his chest.
“I offer you another year,” Loki says, his tone even, without looking away from Tony’s eyes. “An entire year of safety, health and prosperity for your city and every soul who lives in it. In exchange, I will demand nothing but your obedience for eighty-seven full days, starting as soon as the clock strikes midnight. Do we have a deal?”
Tony’s eyes flicker to the clock of the wall. It’s almost midnight, just a minute left. He can hear it ticking. He looks back at Loki, at the hand he is offering him, and swallows hard
“Deal,” he says, and shakes Loki’s hand.
Loki’s smile widens into something sharp. The grip of his hand is firm. The ceiling light flickers. Loki is too tall, takes up far too much space in the room, and for a moment, Tony feels dizzy. It’s over as soon as it started, and Tony wonders if his imagination is playing tricks on him. He resists a shiver, determined not to let Loki know that he’s fucking creepy.
Tony is relieved when Loki lets go of his hand.
“Lovely,” Loki says, like everything is perfectly normal. “Welcome, I suppose. We’ll go over a few rules tomorrow, but for now, it’s late. Go and take your bag upstairs, second door to the right.”
Right, whatever, as long as Tony doesn’t have to be in the same room as Loki any longer. He stands up and takes the coffee cup. Loki raises a brow, but doesn’t comment. Tony picks up his bag again and turns to leave the room.
In the doorway, he stops. “Hey, quick question.”
“Yes?”
“Do you have WIFI or are you too high and mighty for that?”
1
Tony wakes up in a warm, soft bed. He blinks his eyes open, still sticky with sleep, and just lies there for a while, trying not to think about anything at all. He’s not good at that, unfortunately.
With a sigh, he props himself up on his elbows. It’s a nice room, all things considered, with a pretty view of the lake and an en-suite. At least they’re not going to have to share a bathroom. Then again, do gods even piss like normal people? Who knows.
Tony sits up. He’s still exhausted, but that’s no wonder, he can’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep. It’s barely light out. He’s surprised he fell asleep at all. He curled up under the blanket with no real hope right after he found the room, his phone clutched to his chest. There is WIFI, thank fuck, and there’s still a single text waiting for him that he hasn’t replied to yet.
Tony finds his phone between the sheets and stares at the too bright screen for a long moment.
Text me if you can ok?
He feels a spike of guilt for not answering the night before. He just wanted to keep it, is the thing. At least his best friend hasn’t forgotten him, even though they are currently several states apart. Tony wipes a hand over his face and types a reply.
Still alive Platypus! He’s weird af but didn’t dismember me yet so I guess it’ll be fine
Yeah, that’s a low standard right there. Tony sends the text, anyway. He doesn’t expect Rhodey to reply anytime soon, he’s probably already off doing awesome military stuff. Tony drops his phone and pads to the bathroom as quietly as he can.
He uses the toilet. Brushes his teeth. Takes a shower, too, just to have something to do, an excuse to stay in his room a little longer. His room. He’s lucky, probably. He’s heard reports from other cities, other gods, where the three-month-pets are kept in cells, or naked and leashed by their god’s feet. A room and an actual bed he can sleep in, that’s a better start than he expected. That’s no reason to be optimistic, though, maybe the cell and leash are right around the corner.
When he leaves his room, the house is quiet. Dark. He hasn’t heard a single noise since he woke up, so maybe Loki is still asleep. Does he sleep? Tony barely knows anything how gods work, nobody does, and that lack of knowledge is starting to get on his nerves now that he’s dealing with one personally.
He goes downstairs. There is a faint light at the end of the corridor, a door that has been left ajar. Tony hesitates, but then, fuck it, he’s not going to sneak around this house like a frightened dog.
He moves toward the door in question and takes a careful look through the crack. He doesn’t see much, so he opens the door further – books , that’s the first thing he thinks, lots and lots and lots of books. One of the walls is made entirely of glass, but the others are lined with shelves all the way up to the ceiling. There’s a comfortable looking sitting area, a sofa and an armchair, both a swanky shade of emerald green, surrounded by piles of books on the thick rugs on the ground. The light is coming from a floor lamp, soft and inviting.
“Knocking is the done thing, usually.”
Tony stares at Loki, who is sitting in the armchair, both of his legs thrown over the armrest. The scene looks way to human. Loki isn’t even wearing slacks like the night before, he’s in softer looking pants and a fucking henley of all things. That doesn’t help much, though, he still looks like hell warmed over. His skin is sickly pale, his cheekbones too prominent. It’s a shame, he’d be really damn pretty otherwise.
“Good morning to you, too,” Tony says brightly, earning himself a flat look. “Listen, I’ve been thinking, and I really do think we should just get it over with.”
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“I don’t know, you tell me.” Tony flops down on the sofa across from Loki, resting his feet on the low table between them. “Do you want to fuck me? Or can I just suck your dick and call it a day?”
Loki’s looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “No, thank you.”
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing at all.” Loki flings his feet off the armrest and crosses his legs, closing the book he was reading. He moves with a lazy – effortless – elegance that’s already getting on Tony’s nerves. “Where did you get the idea I would want either?”
“Well, I kinda just figured. What with the entire obedience thing.”
Loki smiles. “Have you met somebody who stayed with me before?”
Stayed with me, nice euphemism. “Once, yeah. She said you’d been okay to her. No rape, no torture, just three months of rainbows and unicorns.”
“I’m overjoyed she remembered it that way,” Loki says, smile turning into a wide grin. “Somehow, I get the impression that you did not believe her.”
Tony holds his gaze, ignoring the shiver of instinctive fear that is currently travelling through his spine. “If someone came back from staying more or less voluntarily with an ancient alien who can control everything from the weather to full-blown epidemics and said all they did together was paint their nails and do their hair, would you believe them?”
Loki’s expression doesn’t really change, and somehow he still seems pleased. “It does seem naive, yes. More or less?”
“Huh?”
“More or less voluntarily, you said.”
Tony huffs. “Sorry, do you want me to act like all your guests are here out of their own free will, because you’re just that great or something? Not happening.”
“Are you not here out of your own free will, then?”
“I volunteered. Thought we’d settled that already.”
Loki just looks at him, and this time, Tony averts his gaze. He glances out of the window, fiddling with the hem of his jeans. Loki’s staring makes him feel like he’s cracked open and raw.
“There are things you do because you want to and things you do because someone has to,” Tony says, picking at the seam at the edge of the armrest. “Important difference.”
“Indeed,” Loki says, folding his hands under his chin. “Did you grow up in New York?”
“Yeah.” Tony hesitates. “I studied in Boston, though.”
“A godless city, isn’t it?”
Tony rolls his eyes at Loki’s curious tone, as if he doesn’t know damn well that it is. “Godless as they come, yeah. It’s –“ He glances at Loki, his steady smirk, attentive eyes. “The sky’s darker there, you know. There are a lot less people around, and still everyone’s sick all the time. Barely any kids. Lots of fights. Wasn’t fun.”
“I know. That is why we came, after all.”
Tony snorts. “Yeah, right.”
“You don’t believe that, either?”
“That you only came down here to help the poor little mortals who ruined their planet? Out of the sheer goodness of your alien hearts?” Tony grins, showing his teeth. “No. I’m not naive.”
Loki grins back, but drops the topic. “I’m sure you want to know what your stay here will entail.”
“Sure. Can I pick the nail polish? ‘Cause I’ve been thinking hot-rod red.”
Loki laughs at that, bright and warm in a way Tony didn’t expect. “If you’re good, yes. For now, we’ll just settle on a few rules and we’ll see how you handle them.”
“I don’t handle rules well, usually.”
“I look forward to seeing you try, then,” Loki says, sounding like he means it. “Don’t forget that you promised me obedience.”
Right. “What happens when I don’t do my part of the deal, anyway?”
“I don’t fulfill mine.”
Tony manages a joyless smile. No, he doesn’t want to be here, for fuck’s sake, but – he is here, now, and it’s not like he wants the sky above New York to go dark. He flutters his eyelashes. “Lay it on me, then, sir.”
Loki gives him a long, unimpressed look. “Honesty.”
“What?”
“First rule, Anthony, do keep up. Honesty. No lies, and no performances. You’re not here to act, and I won’t force you to do anything at all. If you don’t want to obey, by all means, don’t, but be ready to suffer the consequences.”
Wait. Hold up. Tony shakes off the sliver of fear that wants to curl around his tongue; he’s not going to sit here stuttering. “What consequences?”
“Loss of privileges,” Loki says easily. “Tasks you might not enjoy. Pain, perhaps.”
“Oh, okay. So, just so we’re on the same page here – you won’t force me to do shit, but if I don’t do shit, you’ll punish me?”
“What would your vow of obedience be worth if you could get away with disobedience without a punishment?”
Tony mulls that over. “If I disobey and you punish me, would our deal still go through?”
Loki blinks slowly.
“Because by that logic, it should,” Tony adds. “If punishments are an option, disobedience is, too. Or you wouldn’t be talking about punishments at all.”
“Ah.” Loki’s smile comes back, slow and pleased. “Yes, well done. A single or even several cases of disobedience wouldn’t hinder the deal, no, as long as you accepted punishment after.”
“Gotcha. Next?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Next rule, Loki,” Tony drawls, crossing his arms. “Do keep up.”
“Sassy, aren’t you?” Loki says, sounding not at all offended. “You may not leave the house without my permission. Within the house, you may move freely, as long as you stay away from locked doors.”
Tony shrugs. “Okay.”
“This is a given, I suppose, but you will follow my orders.”
“Right.”
“And you will take care of yourself.”
“Uh huh.”
“Three meals a day. You’ll be cooking.”
“Oh,” Tony says. “Wait. For you?”
“For both of us, yes, obviously. Problem?”
“Uh. No.”
Loki quirks a brow, amused, but lets it go. “I expect a minimum of five hours of sleep every night. One hour of exercise every day. Apart from that, as long as I haven’t given you an order, you may do with your time what you wish. You’ll keep your room and yourself tidy and clean. You may help yourself to as many books as you like, but you’ll put them back in their place when you’re done with them. You may call your friends or family, but I value my privacy, so you’re not to tell them anything personal about me. Oh, and most importantly: if you want something, ask.”
Tony waits, but Loki doesn’t say anything else. Tony frowns. “That’s it?”
“For now, yes. Repeat everything, please. I’d hate to have to punish you just because you misunderstood a rule.”
“Bullshit.”
Loki stays perfectly still, even his smile stays in place. He looks at Tony without blinking for a long, unpleasant moment, then, “Excuse me?”
“Too much wiggle room,” Tony says, a bit too quietly. He clears his throat. “Does going on the balcony upstairs count as leaving the house? What counts as exercise in your book? What if I don’t manage five hours of sleep just because I can’t fucking sleep? What’s personal info – would you put me over your lap if I told my best friend that you like tea better than coffee? All of that’s pretty vague, so either you’re giving me access to a lot of loopholes, or you’re upping your chances of punishing me.”
Loki stares at him for a moment longer. Tony holds his gaze, stubborn, and watches as Loki’s lips part with a silent exhale. His eyes are bright with something akin to joy, crinkling at the corners.
“Go and get something to write,” he says, nodding at the desk at the other end of the room. “Oh, and make a fresh pot of tea. I feel like we’ll be here a while.”
*
“Fucking ridiculous,” Tony mutters around the nail he’s holding between his teeth. Absolutely goddamn batshit crazy.
He pins the first page against the door and swings the hammer. The sound echoes through the house, but Tony pays that no mind. He adds the second page next to the first one, and then the third page under them. Three whole pages filled with his own handwriting, and at the end, two signatures. His own and Loki’s – the latter looks surprisingly messy, although Tony still sees Loki putting his name down with an exaggerated, elegant flourish.
Asshole.
Tony spins the hammer in his hand and goes back downstairs. It’s late afternoon, soon he’ll have to make dinner. He spent all day running around and fetching stuff – tea, sandwiches for lunch, tea again, more paper, a second pen – and he doesn’t really like the thought of playing the guy’s servant for the next three months, but well. Could be worse. He thought it would be worse.
Loki is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, frowning. Tony tries very hard not to look scared, and he doesn’t, he isn’t, it’s just that something about Loki creeps him the fuck out. It doesn’t help that Loki is way too tall. When Tony comes to stand on the second to last step of the stairs, Loki is still taller than him. Now, Tony’s aware he’s fun-sized, but this is just unfair.
“What?” he asks, annoyed.
Loki looks at the hammer in Tony’s hand and back at Tony’s face with something like resignation in his eyes. “Where did you get that?”
“Uh, the supply closet next to the kitchen?” Tony walks past Loki, taking care not to get too close to him. “Door wasn’t locked, so.”
“You nailed your rules to the door?”
“Well, you told me to put your rules on my bedroom door, so, yes.”
“I was thinking about, oh, I’m not sure. Sellotape?”
“Should‘ve said that, then.”
“Aren’t you tired of arguing yet?” Loki asks, following Tony.
“Are you?”
Loki grins at him, which is answer enough. The bastard could have gone on and on for days, probably; during their negotiations earlier it became clear that Loki lives for that kinda stuff. He uses words like Tony uses numbers, fast, without thinking, and still every shot is a hit. Loki doesn’t stutter or fumble for the right thing to say, he uses every single syllable on purpose, and every sentence is just a rug thrown over another trapdoor.
“We’ll eat in the dining room later,” Loki says, unassuming, and watches Tony put the hammer back into the supply closet. “If you need me, I’ll be in the library.”
“Yeah, okay.” Tony steps back out into the hallway, and Loki doesn’t move. “Listen, you don’t have to look over my shoulder the whole time, alright? It’s creepy. Shoo.”
“Did you just tell me to shoo?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Let me rephrase – fuck off.”
Loki sighs, but he turns away from Tony to leave. “Perhaps I should have added a rule about respect.”
“Too late, honeybear.”
Loki disappears into the library, and Tony stands in the hallway for a moment, feeling lost. He takes a breath, runs a hand over his chest. He’s fine. Peachy.
He goes to the kitchen. Lets his fingers dance over the stove top, peers into the next best cabinet, looks up at the cookbooks that sit on a shelf to the side. Fuck. What is Loki getting out of this, anyway? Maybe he just does this shit once a year because he wants a maid. There are no rules about cleaning the entire house, thankfully; Tony thinks he’d spontaneously combust if he had to go around vacuuming and dusting. Maybe in a flimsy little maid outfit to top it all off. He shudders. Yeah, he should be glad it’s just cooking, probably.
He pulls one of the cookbooks out at random. Can’t be that hard, right?
Right.