Archive of Our Own ^beta

It began because Coulson was a complete troll. It continued because Captain America was apparently a big sap underneath the alpha dog attitude and it just kept going because apparently everyone on the team was crazy and also a sucker for Captain America's big puppy eyes. Tony was just not used to not being the craziest person in his general vicinity, which was why he was caught completely unawares when Natalie—sorry, Natasha—strode into his office looking sexy and streamlined in a pencil-skirt-professional-blouse ensemble and chucked a hideous Christmas Sweater at his head.

"GAH!" Tony said, and then, "Are you trying to blind me? Or kill me? Or both?"

Natasha smirked. Glittery yarn scratched his skin as the sweater slid down Tony's face. He grabbed it and pulled it the rest of the way off because it was uncomfortable, not because Natasha was slightly terrifying when she smiled and Tony didn't like having his line of sight obscured when she looked at him like that.

"Seven o'clock," she said. "Avengers' meeting. Hellicarrier. Wear the sweater."

"What?"

But, message apparently delivered, Natasha turned and headed for the door without further elaboration.

"I'm allergic to wool!" he called after her.

"It's acrylic," she said over her shoulder.

Tony shuddered. "I'm allergic to awful things."

"If you don't come, Cap'll be disappointed."

"As if I care!" Tony said, but she had already stepped through the door and closed it after her.

Tony didn't care. He didn't. If Cap had wanted Tony there that much he would've come and told Tony about the party himself. He hadn't, and that was completely fine. Which was why he spent three hours bent over his desk doing work in a totally non-guilty and unaffected way like the responsible adult he was and that, clearly, the rest of his team only hoped of being.

Until Pepper stepped into his office and froze dead in her tracks. "Tony?"

He glanced up, feeling his back twinge and hiding a wince because he was a manly man who Got Things Done and absolutely didn't care what Captain Christmas Spirit thought of him. Her expression made him look quickly over his shoulder, expecting to see Doctor Doom or some member of AIM standing behind him with a flame thrower.

"What?" he asked, when no imminent danger seemed present.

"What are you doing?"

"Expense reports for the Foster and Lewis Project...?"

If he sounded unsure it was only because her utterly disbelieving expression made him half-afraid that wasn't what he was doing. That, somehow, he was performing some act of moral reprehensibility instead, like he'd look down and realize he'd been doing body shots off a naked hooker and still had the lime in his mouth.

"Those aren't due until Friday."

"And it's..."

"Wednesday."

"...so?"

Pepper took another tentative step into the room and closed the door behind her. "So usually that means you don't do them until Friday. Or, rather, I do them on Friday and forge your signature."

Pepper was the best.

"Have I told you how awesome you are, lately?" he asked, filled with sudden fondness.

"This morning," Pepper said. "Say it again."

"You're awesome," Tony told her obediently.

"I know. Tony..." She glanced down at his desk. "What's that?"

Tony followed her gaze and found himself staring at the terrible sweater that was folded neatly in a corner of his desk. When had that happened? He'd meant to throw it away. Well, he'd do that now. Right now. In just a minute.

"Tony?"

Dammit, subconscious!

"It's a Christmas sweater. Apparently there's a party-thing. Tell me I have a Very Important Meeting that I Couldn't Possibly Miss?" he gave her a pleading look and she checked her tablet.

"Actually, your schedule is totally free by six thirty," she said, and she sounded genuinely surprised so Tony could only assume that Natasha had hacked his system somehow.

"Crap. Fire my NS department. No, hire more. No, just--I'm going to have to completely rework my network security which is perfect because I need someplace to hide and Lab 3 is open, isn't it?"

"Tony," Pepper's voice sharpened as her minimize-damage-caused-by-Hurricane-My-Dumbass-Boss instincts kicked in. "What's going on? Do I need to prepare a press release?"

"What time is it?"

Pepper glared at him for a few moments, apparently choosing to be stubborn about wanting a straight answer which--okay how long had she worked for him? They stared at each other in stalemate until Tony realized he had his own watch. It was 6:00 PM.

"Crap." Tony stood up. "I gotta go, Pep. Tell no one where I am."

"Tony--"

They were interrupted when a flash of lightning flooded the room and a boom of thunder shook the building and Tony was in the process of tackling his PA and dragging her to safety under his desk, half blind and mostly deaf, when he realized that he was now friends with an elementally-aligned god and looked out the window instead.

Thor was outside the glass beaming and looking for all the world like he was standing solidly on thin air, the wind whipping his cape and hair dramatically. He was also wearing a lime green sweater with sparkly white snowflakes on it so maybe they weren't friends after all.

Tony was distracted when Pepper punched him in the shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Uh." He took in the situation--desk chair overturned, papers scattered, arm wrapped around Pepper as he tried to wrestle her to safety. "Pulling you to cover...?"

"Behind a glass table?"

"It's sturdy! Just because it's made of--"

Then Thor blew his window out. Tony would've been more surprised, but it wasn't the first time it had happened.

"You and your brother!" Tony shouted over the noise. "What is it with you people and destroying my windows?"

"Friend Tony!" Thor boomed, either not hearing or choosing to ignore Tony's ire. "I have come to collect you for our celebration. The Lady Widow appointed me with the task of seeing you safely to the chosen location."

"I'm sure she did," Tony muttered, looking frantically for an escape.

Beside him, Pepper straightened. "You owe me, Mr. Stark," she said. Tony blinked at her, but her eyes were fixed on Thor as she stepped around the desk and said in a sharp whip-crack of tone. "What do you think you're doing?"

Thor clearly didn't know what had hit him. He looked a little dazed as he watched her approach over the broken glass in precise marching steps in her spiked six inch heels.

"Come down here at once," Pepper snapped.

Thor dropped to the floor of Tony's office immediately, eyes wide.

"Do you know how much this window costs? And what would you have done if that glass had hurt anyone? Do you have healing powers?"

"No." Even the booming echo that seemed to accompany everything that Thor said sounded a bit quieter, as if sheepish. "That is not a power that I possess. Though--"

"Then what were you thinking?"

Tony winced and Thor flinched at the sheer indignant rage that Pepper managed to infuse into her words. Tony actually began to feel bad for the guy, and he took a step forward to sooth her or perhaps give some kind of distraction, when Pepper turned slightly, caught his eye and mouthed, "Run, idiot."

It was the perfect out, and yet Tony still hesitated. Thor was his favorite, after all, and if Pepper put out one of his eyes with her very sharp heels or something similarly unpleasant--which her body language promised--Tony would be down an ally at Fury's neurotically scheduled weekly meetings.

But then he saw it, clutched and dwarfed in Thor's large grip: a Santa's Helper hat, red-and-green striped, complete with cotton ball-like pompom and plastic elf ears. It was possible that Thor meant to wear it himself and was only carrying it to keep it from blowing away in the wind, but Tony couldn't take that chance.

He turned on his heel and fled.

Out in the hallway, he made a beeline for the nearest elevator. He had codes that would open floors for him that no one else in the building could get to. There had to be somewhere safe from visiting gods and super secret ninja spies.

There didn't seem to be any sound coming from his office, but Tony knew how much he'd paid for the soundproofing, so he wasn't counting that as a positive that Thor wasn't about to burst through the doors and drag him off to a fate worse than death. He folded his arms and tapped a rhythm against the blessedly non-synthetic fabric of his very expensive suit jacket.

"Come on come on," he muttered, watching the floors light up as the elevator approached, encouraging it to go faster. He knew it didn't help, but it made him feel proactive.

When the doors dinged open, Tony stepped forward--and almost collided with someone standing just inside.

He realized who it was and yelped, "Coulson!" as he stumbled back a step.

"Mr. Stark," His Most Unflappable said with the tiniest of...expressions. Tony never really knew what any of the SHIELD agent's various minimal eyebrow movements meant, but at least he could spot them, now, after months of observation. "Going somewhere?"

There was also a tone to accompany the expression. Tony paused on the breath he had been preparing for his explanation and studied Coulson's mild-mannered face and non-aggressive stance and suddenly, something clicked in place.

"YOU!" Tony exclaimed, pointing dramatically. "This is YOUR fault, somehow, don't deny it!"

"Yes," Coulson said and smiled like the snake he was. "I thought a bit of holiday cheer was appropriate for the season. Captain Rogers agreed with me. He also liked the sweater I got him and decided to spread the love."

"Love--!" Tony squawked.

"If you miss the party, he'll be very disappointed."

"I don't care--!"

"I do. Have you seen his sad-puppy look? If we could harness it we could bring insurgent armies to their knees."

Tony was briefly distracted by the schematics that tried to assemble in his brain, a machine to capture the power of Cap's eyes.

The doors to Tony's office crashed open, and Thor's voice boomed in an even louder accompaniment. "FRIEND TONY. YOU SHALL NOT ELUDE ME!"

While in the background, Pepper's harried, "Get back here!" could still be heard clearly.

Tony yelped and fled by instinct alone, slamming open the door to the stairway and heading down. Huh. Apparently there was some benefit to all those fire drills Pepper had insisted upon.

He found himself lurking on the twelfth floor. He was fairly certain that Coulson had blocked off any exits on the ground level and he was loathe to try the elevator again, which was the fastest way to his labs. There was another route through the basement, but that had all sorts of checkpoints and he didn't want to risk being trapped in the small, enclosed space between security stations. He was looking for a half-remembered coffee station, stashed toward the back of the building. There had been some sort of unfortunate incident that had left the whole area smelling vaguely of rotten eggs and no amount of cleaning could get rid of it. No one went there if at all possible, and Tony could hide there until the seven o'clock deadline had passed and the others were at the party.

Tony smelled the correct place before he saw it, rounding the corner into a darker area because one of the fluorescent lights had died and no one had bothered to fix it, pulling up short when he spotted another figure hunched near the dust-covered coffee pot, facing toward the one long, narrow, floor-to-ceiling window.

The lighting was bad, but the other person's headgear was fairly unmistakable, even from the back.

"Loki?" Tony blurted.

Loki turned and scowled at him. "Get out."

"What happened to your helmet-thingy?" Tony said instead of running away like a sensible person. It was strange, though. The long, elegant, obviously-compensating-for-something-though-Tony-couldn't-begrudge-the-guy-since-he'd-seen-Thor-naked horns that usually arced from the Trickster God's golden helm had become stunted spiky things that Tony suddenly realized were stylized antlers. Not regal real-life-like antlers, however, more something from Saturday morning cartoons.

"I don't want to talk about it."

The God of Lies pouted. It was ridiculous and distracting and Tony stared for a good long moment before rallying.

"Wait, what are you even doing here? Didn't you get sent back to Asgard in the cone of shame? Who let you out?" That last bit was rhetorical, because Tony was pretty sure there was only one person--one huge, puppy-person with an even bigger puppy-heart and unending love for the Trickster--that had both the power and the inclination to drag Loki to Earth for Christmas. Tony studied Loki's profile, not entirely sure what he was looking for, until something coalesced--in the way he was standing like he didn't want anyone to see him, in his hushed voice and furtive glances over Tony's shoulder. "You're hiding."

The look Loki threw in his direction could've cut steel. Tony was a little surprised he didn't feel it like an actual blade, though the dull flush over very pale cheeks kind of dimmed the intimidation level. "Shut up, Stark."

And he should, he really should, but no, this was delightful. This was interesting.

"Or you'll--what? I throw me out a window? Again?" Tony eased closer so that no one looking down the hallway could see him, put his back against the wall across from Loki and folded his arms.

Loki scowled. "I could do."

"Please. Been there, done that. So Thor wants you do go to this party, too?"

"Yes." Loki's expression twisted sardonically. "How well do you think that will go over?"

Tony thought about it. "Well, someone gave Widow new knives for Christmas that she's dying to try out so at least one person would probably like to see you there."

"Ha ha."

"And Cap's the forgiving sort."

Loki gave him an incredulous look and Tony had to agree that it was probably a long shot. Though, Cap had a lot of trust in Thor's opinion and Thor had long advocated that Loki was redeemable. He shrugged.

"He seems determined to like me, and I'm way more obnoxious than you."

"Really?" That got Tony a raised eyebrow. "You're no longer at each other's throats like two tom cats in an alley?"

Tony felt a smile pull at his mouth that didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, Scout's honor."

In actuality, it helped a lot that they weren't forced together for long hours anymore, major crisis having been averted for the time being. Cap had made friendly overtures and Tony had responded like he usually did when he liked someone--by picking a fight. Tony seemed incapable of being around Captain America without bickering. That was fine--that was how Tony treated friends and it was all he knew of family, but Cap hadn't responded well and Tony had decided that it would probably be better for the team as a whole if he high-tailed it back to Stark International and left the day to day to the rest of the team. It made things easier. For all of them.

He'd stayed in New York, though. Because. Well. Just because.

In front of him, Loki looked bemused.

Tony sighed. "Really? You pulled out 'tom cats in an alley' but you get stumped by a Boy Scout's reference? And, anyway, why are you still here if you don't want to go to the party? Can't you teleport through mirrors?"

"Do you see any mirrors?"

Tony glanced around and--nope, no reflective surfaces anywhere, which spoke to how long this alcove had been abandoned, because Tony had gone through a brief chrome phase that had seen a lot of the décor receive shiny upgrades.

"In any case, there are security measures in place that prevent me from leaving."

Tony blinked at Loki's hostile glare. "What?"

"I assume it was Thor who helped you perform the necessary Asgardian spellwork?" The thin, arched eyebrow said because, clearly, no puny mortal could wield the power of my people.

Tony sort of wanted to lie just to be obnoxious, but Loki was the God of Lies so he could probably tell or something. "Thor couldn't magic himself out of a lidless box." Loki snorted and Tony found himself grinning. "Neither could I, for that matter. It was an older lady from Asgard and Dr. Foster. The wards actually work? I'm kind of surprised by that, frankly."  Because magic was sneaky and not to be trusted.

"Older lady?"

"Long wavy hair? Silvery dress?" Tony searched his memory. "Frigga?"

"My mother?"

"Do you really get to call her that anymore?"

Dammit, his mouth was not allowed to make decisions without his brain. While that mental command had never stopped it before, he was hoping repetition would make it a reality.

Tony braced himself for an attack. Loki's entire person was abruptly one large promise of violence. Tony couldn't even blame him, at this point. Except--yes, he could, because you didn't just get to have a loving family and then willingly and deliberately give them up because you'd suddenly discovered your inner angsty teenager. And if you did, you deserved to get shit for it.

Because there was no situation that Tony's continuously running mouth didn't think it could improve by more talking, and it had decided to ignore the thousandth repetition of the demand to stay grounded in the logic section of his brain, he continued, "Weren't those spells supposed to keep you out? Why are they keeping you in?"

For a moment, Loki looked like he might forgo answering to continue with his desire to punch Tony in the face, but Loki was a practitioner of magic the way that Tony was an engineer and he, apparently, couldn't pass up the opportunity to explain how it all worked. "It's a shielding spell. It's impassible from either side save for designated entranceways."

"So you walked in through the door."

"The window. When Thor broke it."

"Funny, I didn't see you there."

"I traveled through the shards of glass. They were reflective enough."

"Since when have you been able to do that?"

"I've been practicing."

"Great," Tony eyed him. "So you're even more powerful, now."

Loki smirked.

"Perfect," Tony said.

Loki level of smugness reached new heights, which sort of made Tony want to do stupid things like taunt him, if only to wipe that smarminess off his stupid face. Occasionally, Tony was five years old. Pepper would've said more than just occasionally, but Tony chose not to listen to Pepper when she was being mean.

"Alright, you have 'phenomenal cosmic powers.' If that's true then I'm pretty sure you could level this building and teleport to Tijuana or wherever you wanted to go without breaking a sweat. So why are you really not killing the crap out of all of us and heading for tropical paradise? It's for Thor, isn't it?"

Loki looked a bit like he'd rather commit murder than answer truthfully, which did not bode well for Tony. Fortunately, that's when Thor found them.

"Friend--BROTHER!" Thor's face lit up when he saw Loki, and Tony had to admit he did look adorable, like a happy puppy with a wagging tail and he'd probably have difficulty saying 'no' to Thor, too.

Then Loki was very close, his hand on Tony's chest, his voice murmured low in Tony's ear. "I apologize for my lack of creativity."

"What?"

The impact of glass slammed all the air out of Tony's lungs; there was pain and a shattering noise that took up his whole mind for an instant, and then Tony felt the sadly familiar sensation of being flung out a window to the New York streets below. What really rankled, even more than the fact that this had now happened more than once in his life, was that Loki had thrown him out a window as a mere distraction.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and didn't scream, because he was a badass superhero and not because all the ability to make any noise whatsoever sort of vanished when the breath had been violently knocked out of his lungs. It took him what was probably an embarrassing amount of time to realize the impact he'd braced for wasn't coming.

"Um. Hey, Tony."

Tony looked up into the pale New York sky and took a moment to process that he was dangling parallel to the pavement a few feet below him, wrapped entirely in webbing except for his head and possibly his feet but he couldn't angle himself to see that far. Spider-Man was stuck to the side of the Stark building, looking down at him with what Tony interpreted as a concerned look.

"You're a lifesaver," Tony said, and saw the mask move to shape around the wide grin it was hiding. "Literally."

"Hey, no problem." The kid jumped, hit a light post and then landed neatly beside him. "Just your friendly neighborhood--"

"Yeah, that's great." Because it would take more than a near-death experience to get Tony to sit through a rendition of the kid's stupid tag line. "Get me down? People are staring."

"Uh." Spider-Man fidgeted. "Well."

Clint leaned into view with a huge, shit-eating smile on his face. "Well hello there, Mr. Stark. I do believe you have a party to attend."

"Spidey," Tony said, putting all the hurt and betrayal he could manage into his tone as he worked to look righteously indignant hanging two feet off the ground wrapped in webbing. He realized that, over the usual Spider-Man costume was a red sweater with a wide, white collar pattern knitted around the neck hole and a large black belt with a yellow buckle knitted around the middle. It was an elf helper sweater. Tony felt ashamed for him.

Spider-Man winced. "I'm sorry! It's just, it's just...Cap gave me puppy eyes!"

Somewhere above them there was a clap of thunder and it started raining tinsel. A crowd was starting to gather as a familiar black Lincoln pulled up.

"Should we help him?" Spider-Man asked, eyes to the sky.

"Nah, Thor's got this," Clint said. "Let's go, Spidey."

Together they hauled Tony up and put him in the car. Happy watched them over the driver's seat. He was wearing a black knitted cardigan with red around the collar and a sheepish expression.

"You're fired," Tony told him.

"Sorry, Boss. Captain Rogers made me promise I'd help. He had this look."

"You're all fired," Tony reiterated.

"I don't work for you," Clint said and dropped a shiny red bow on Tony's head. "Perfect. I was wondering what to get Cap for Christmas."

"I can buy SHIELD, you know. I'm pretty sure I can. Then you will work for me and then I can fire you."

"Tony," Clint said with more fondness in his voice than was strictly necessary. "Shut up."


Someone had decorated the crap out of meeting room 3, which was the unofficial Avengers' Lounge though Fury refused to call it that. Tony was betting on Natasha as he eyed the tasteful, hand blown ornaments and real live holly. He also guessed that Natasha had had help. He glanced at the neon stars, the terrifying, tiny animatronic dancing snowmen, the popcorn-and-cranberries garland and the clothespin reindeer and suppressed a shudder. He could almost feel hives breaking out.

They had left Tony in webbing, propped in a chair in the corner. People stopped by to add to Clint's impromptu giftwrapping and to take pictures with their cellphones and Tony hated everyone. Especially Rhodey, who was dancing in a corner with Dr. Foster's pretty, drolly amused friend whose name Tony couldn't recall, wearing a sweater in an army fatigue pattern of red and green and darker green, and most importantly, not helping Tony escape. Why was he friends with these people?

"Eggnog?" Pepper offered him a glass with a straw sticking out. She sported a long, mint green sweater with pink stripes and patterns of lavender snowflakes and brown antlers or possibly branches? Tony wasn't sure.

"Et tu, Brute?" he grumbled at her.

"Hey," she said, "it's a party. Plus, Captain Rogers has these eyes. They sent me a picture on my cellphone. It really wasn't fair." She looked a little star-struck at the memory.

Tony gave her a suspicious look. "You fell for the eyes? You?"

"No." She broke character with a smirk. "It was mostly the free alcohol."

"You're fired, too," he told Pepper.

She shrugged. "Okay." She took the drink back, sipped deliberately out of the straw and Tony felt horror stab him in the chest.

"I didn't mean it," he said with deep sincerity.

She grinned and offered him the beverage again. He drank and tried not to look grateful, or ridiculous. It was difficult without the use of his arms.

"Virgin?" he asked, making a face at the clearly non-alcoholic liquid in the cup.

"Not for a while, Mr. Stark," Pepper said with a wink before wandering off to lean against Happy and chat with Natasha, and Tony had to squash the feelings of affection and the small, bitterly cold sting of jealousy both. It wasn't appropriate. Not anymore, anyway. Maybe the affection. Tony wasn't sure. Pepper was the first ex that had stayed around to be a friend and Tony wasn't entirely certain of the rules or boundaries and tried to err on the side of caution, which was new for him and he tended to get wrong. Then again, she had failed to keep him away from this hideous celebration of tackiness so maybe she wasn't much different from his other exes after all.

Actually, no, Tony didn't mean that. Mostly.

The terribly tragic thing was that, despite all the fuss, they'd gotten to the party early, and everyone had come to the mutual decision that Cap should be the one to cut Tony free because they were awful people who obviously needed to die. Cap had gone to make a last minute supply run and hadn't been here when they'd arrived, and still wasn't back, yet. Which left Tony to stew in Christmas cheer, surrounded by warmth and good humor, watching people dance to the cheesy music and eat from the terrible processed food platters, and enjoy themselves.

It felt...lonely. Which was stupid, because Tony was a very busy and important person and therefore surrounded by people all the time.

The holidays just made him maudlin. Hence, why he hated them. He decided that if someone didn't free him soon so he could take whatever dignity he had left--which was very little at this point, he suspected--and make an exit he'd start chewing limbs off.

Bruce held a cookie up to him and said, "Stop looking sad."

"Fuck off," Tony said, or meant to say, but what came out was, "Fuff foff," because Bruce had taken the opportunity to slip the cookie between his lips in a ninja way that was, frankly, alarming. Then, Tony was completely distracted by the deliciousness in his mouth and made a hum of approval instead.

Bruce looked please, dragging a chair over to sit next to him. "You like it? I made them."

Tony tried not to look overly surprised, but Bruce didn't seem offended, in any case.

"Lab work's a lot like cooking," he said.

Not any work that happened in Tony's labs, but Bruce was a lot more organized and methodical when it came to science so Tony would concede the point. Bruce helped Tony sip from a cup he was holding. It turned out to be coffee, black.

"You're my favorite, now," Tony said when he could speak again.

"I like you, too," Bruce said and fed him another cookie.

Tony glanced at him and wanted to say "What are you doing here?" because Bruce liked being around people less than Tony--who was completely and totally fine by himself in an empty house, thank you--but here he was, wearing a red sweater with a horrifyingly cute candy-stuffed stocking on the front and feeding Tony cookies with an air of total contentedness. Or, well, minimal awkwardness. Which was pretty much the same thing, with Bruce.

"I tried to back out," Bruce said, because he was scary-good at interpreting silent looks and reading people. "But Cap gave me his puppy eyes. Have you seen them? They could make inert solids want to be a reactive gas."

The truth was...the truth was Tony had seen that look. It was the last look that Cap had directed at him before Tony had run--made a tactical retreat. Because Tony had said something full of vitriol and asshole-ery in response to something Cap had said, like always, but whatever their topic of conversation had been--and Tony didn't even remember--it had apparently been something too close to the heart and Cap had looked...looked all hurt and sad and Tony had left because he never wanted to see that look on Cap's face again, especially not when he'd put it there. And he would. As long as Cap tried to be Tony's friend, it would happen, because that was just how Tony was.

He was about to try and persuade Bruce to help him escape when the door slid open and Cap stepped into the room, paper bags in his arms and a Santa's hat on his head. He grinned when he saw everyone and Tony's heart twisted a little.

"Cap!" Clint called, stepped up to take the bags. "Look what we got you!"

He indicated Tony with a head tilt and a hip cock that failed to look ridiculous because the universe was unfair, and Cap looked at Tony, who felt everything in him freeze for a moment.

Then Cap's smile went even wider and his face lit up and Tony's heart twisted some more while the rest of him melted into a little puddle of goo and oh god, he was in trouble.

He wanted to say, Shut up, heart. He wanted to say, You don't get to make decisions. You have terrible taste. When you're not falling for people who will inevitably hurt you, you're falling for people who you'll inevitably hurt. Look at Pepper.

But Cap was coming toward him, and Tony could only stare with what he assumed was an incredibly idiotic expression. Then Cap was right in front of him, all golden and warm and shedding snow in little crystalline flecks.

"Tony," Cap said with a great degree of friendliness.

Are we going to have to sit through more awkward meetings on sexual harassment in the workplace, Cap? Tony almost answered, but managed to bite down on it at the last second.

"It's snowing?" Tony blurted, because it was the first neutral thing he could think of.

"Just started when I was heading back. Sorry I'm late, but I had to help some people get their car out of the snow."

"Of course you did," Tony said, because of course.

"I'm glad you could make it."

"I didn't really have a choice in the matter," he pointed out and watched the light in Cap's eyes dim a little and wished his arms were free so he could stab himself in the face to get out of saying anything else because clearly it could only get worse from here.

"We were going to dress him up for you, Cap," Clint said, clapping Cap on the shoulder and presenting the folded Christmas sweater that had started this whole thing. "But we thought we'd let you do the honors."

Cap took the proffered article of clothing and then looked at Tony. "Okay?"

Tony summoned a smirk, though he felt it was probably a little watered down from usual, but not because he was affected by Cap's nearness or anything. "Sure. Who wouldn't want Captain America to get them half-naked?"

Cap managed to both blush and look exasperated, but that was better than looking hurt, so Tony took it as a win. "I think you can manage on your own."

Then he bent and got Tony free and Tony absolutely did not deliberately breathe in Cap's scent of warm leather and crisp snow and whatever frilly shampoo the girls had foisted on him this week because they had been horrified to discover that Cap used SHIELD-issue bar soap on his hair. Tony had been horrified, too, but he'd restricted himself to changing all the bar soap to something with at least a little conditioner in it, like the sensible and restrained person he was. When Cap helped Tony to his feet and held him firmly until he was sure Tony had his balance, Tony certainly didn't lean into it a little. And when Cap grinned at him and handed Tony the sweater, Tony's stomach had no butterflies in it at all.

"You're doomed, man," Rhodey informed him when Tony passed him on his way to the nearest bathroom to change, his eyes all wise and knowing-Tony-entirely-too-well-for-entirely-too-long.

Clearly, Tony needed a new set of associates.

In the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror long and hard and realized that if he didn't leave the party he was going to try and sleep with Captain America. He knew the signs, even if he'd chosen to ignore them for as long as possible. But if he left the party, Cap would likely interpret that wrong, interpret it as I don't like you instead of I like you so much sometimes it's not even sexual and yes I want to make out with you but I also want to hold hands with you and make you smile all the time.

Maybe he could just say that. Or maybe not, because words were often not on Tony's side, especially around his crushes, and inevitably it would come out like, you're stupid and your face is stupid and you smell, because Tony had never learned to flirt seriously. He was only ever good at casual.

But maybe he could play it casual. It was Christmas and there was a good deal of goodwill toward men going on, and there was mistletoe--Tony had seen Clint chasing Natasha with a sprig--so there could be kisses. Perfectly casual kisses between co-workers that didn't have to have any bearing on the rest of their lives. Then Tony would at least know what it felt like and he would continue to pine, but at least it would be with empirical data so, yeah. That was a plan.

Decision made, Tony stepped out of the bathroom--and nearly ran headlong into Captain America, himself. Cap caught him by the shoulders. His hands were large and warm. Tony was still thinking about kisses, so his eyes caught on Cap's lips and held there.

"Um," Tony said.

"You didn't change."

Tony glanced down at himself and realized that this was true. He'd been so busy having an epiphany and then dealing with the resulting mild meltdown that he'd forgotten.

"Are you stalking me?" Tony demanded, glaring at Cap's plush lower lip.

"Are you leaving?"

"Cap--"

"No. Steve."

Tony blinked. "What?"

"Tony."

"What?" He was trying to pay attention, he really was, but Cap was very close, holding him by the arms, too gentle to hurt but too firm to get away and--okay, that was a kink he'd been aware of but only in a dim background way until now, and he was feeling a little weak-kneed but he wasn't about to swoon like some sort of silver screen heroine.

"You said you'd stop calling me 'Cap' if I stopped calling you 'Stark' and I have, so please call me Steve."

It was a rather polite thing to say while more-or-less keeping Tony still by force. Not that Tony was complaining. "Okay. Steve."

It felt monumental, and then Tony felt silly for putting so much significance into a small thing, but Steve smiled wide and Tony was thoroughly distracted again. There wasn't any mistletoe in the vicinity. Maybe Tony could talk Steve into going back to the party? Then again, Tony wasn't sure he wanted to kiss Steve in front of other people. Steve seemed like a private kind of guy, and though Tony was usually happy enough to have everyone know his business, Steve probably wouldn't feel the same. Besides, there was a small but fierce part of Tony that didn't particularly want his first (only) kiss with Steve to be on display for anyone else.

Perhaps he could work it into the conversation? Tony was suave. He knew how to seduce people. He'd done this before, why was it suddenly so difficult?

"Tony? Are you even paying attention?"

Crap. Steve had been talking. What had he been talking about? Tony searched his memory and found very little. Wow, he was bad at this.

"Look, I'm not leaving, okay?" Tony hazarded, glancing up at the Very Serious expression Steve was giving him, hoping to have guessed the topic of conversation correctly.

"Good," Steve said. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

"That's because I'm awesome. Who wouldn't want me around?" Tony said, still a little on automatic. "But you don't actually need me here."

The sharpness of Steve's look threw Tony off. "I don't want to have this argument again."

Tony stared. Again? When had they--Oh, okay, it was coming back, a little. The last time they'd spoken, after Tony had already started to withdraw a little in deference to team unity, Cap had cornered him in the meeting room after everyone else had left. Perhaps being cornered by Steve was just a thing for him, because he'd been ninety percent focused on the soft golden shine of Steve's hair, mouth running on automatic because fighting was like breathing for him.

Steve had said something like, We need you focused, Stark. You can't run a business meeting from the battlefield. It's foolish and dangerous and you should know better.

And Tony had snapped back, Come on, Cap. It's not like the team needs me, anyway.

He'd said it partly because he was trying to get a rise of out Cap and being dismissive of the team was an easy solution, and partly because it was true. Tony had spent the majority of the fight against Doctor Demonicus on conference call with his board of directors because he'd blown them off three times already--twice to do PR for The Avengers and once because Hobgoblin had been blowing up bits of the city. The Hulk had trounced the bad guy's various ridiculous and unlikely science fiction-y genetic horrors while Hawkeye had moved in for the (figurative) kill, delivering snarky commentary the entire time. Natasha had--Tony wasn't entirely sure--slit throats in an alley somewhere, maybe, cutting the Doctor's minion support strings. Cap and Thor had been on crowd control.

Tony had hovered over the field, dropping bits of his own running commentary between arguing with his board members.

On your six, Hulk--no your other six--I'm paying attention, Myers, just give me the bottom line and if you say 'We should consider Hammer as a viable partnership' again I'm going to graffiti your--YOUR OTHER SIX, HULK, Jesus--behind you. --I am hearing you, Myers, it's just the things I'm hearing are all stupid, so if you'd please step up your game--holy shit, Nat, where the hell did you come from?

They'd finished the battle, no one had died, and Tony had gotten a lecture from Fury about unnecessary property damage. He'd blown up a fire hydrant to provide a necessary distraction toward the end. That was the official story, anyway. In reality, Tony could admit to himself that it had been mostly just to fire the repulsors at least once, because he hadn't needed to the entire rest of the encounter.

Then what had happened?

Cap had sought him out after he'd come out of Fury's office, dragged him to the meeting room to listen about team tactics--Tony didn't remember most of what had been said. He'd been cc-ing Pepper the minutes from his meeting; then gotten into a texting war with her over whether or not he was legally allowed to allocate funds into his new pet project: Coming Up with Better Names for Supervillians Because, Seriously, Doctor Demonicus?

Pepper had said that people named Iron Man couldn't talk. Tony had rebutted that he shared a name with a Black Sabbath song so all her arguments were invalid.

Then Cap had asked him to stay after, like the recalcitrant student everyone assumed Tony had been, except, no, he'd been a good student, not that anyone believed him. He'd still cared what people thought, back then. He'd still been hoping for a gold star, the one that would finally make his father look at him with anything besides disappointment.

They'd sniped at each other; Tony had said, You don't need me.

And Cap had looked at him very seriously and said, Yes we do.

What had Tony said back? Something flippant and mean because Tony had been in a groove and not really paying strict attention and was used to people who had thick skin and ignored his bullshit.

Oh right. He'd said, Well, maybe I don't need you.

Which had provoked that look. Cap had looked like Tony had gutted him, and suddenly Tony had been tongue tied and repentant, but it was completely against his nature to backtrack, so he'd just said, Sorry, look, I've got a lot on my mind. Maybe you'd better count me out, for a bit.

Which was not what Tony had meant to say at all, but he hadn't been able to take it back, either. Now, though, in the spirit of the season, maybe Steve would find it in him to forgive Tony, if only Tony could cobble together some sort of apology, and, all right, so he wasn't very good at them, but he'd give it a try.

"Steve, I'm--"

"Wait," Steve said, and he shook Tony just a little, which startled Tony into silence. Steve's expression now was intense. The kind of fierce determination he got when he'd analyzed a battle and didn't think they'd win, but he was going to try anyway. Tony couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what had put such a dire look on Steve's face.

Steve was talking again, and Tony did his best to pay attention to the words, not get caught in Steve's nearness and heat and the absolute focus he used to pin Tony in place. "I should probably say--before you talk and make me want to punch you again--"

"Oh, thanks," Tony said, because there was no way he could let that pass without comment.

"Tony."

Tony shut up.

"I understand that you're busy and I appreciate the time you take to work with us, but when you're here I need you here, I need you to take this seriously, because--"

"Hey, now," Tony said, apparently unable to just not talk, but also--it needed to be said that Tony did take his time with The Avengers seriously, more seriously than anything else in his life, at the moment, much to Pepper's--and, even moreso, his Board's--frustration. 

"No, I--" Steve stopped, obviously struggling to find the right words. Tony could sympathize because he had yet to form a sentence beyond his initial, reactionary protest. "That's not what I wanted to say, I mean--it needed to be said, but--What's more important is that. That I... You're very important. To. Not just the team."

Tony waited, but that seemed to be it. It was obvious, from the way Steve looked like he was trying to beam his meaning directly into Tony's brain via eye contact, that there was some deeper level happening here.

"Um. Okay...?" Which was--lame. A completely vapid response. Tony sort of wanted to punch himself in the face.

Steve sighed. "Pepper told me I should take a more direct approach," he muttered.

"Pepper--what?" Because Tony was the opposite of coherence right now.

Then, all his chances to make any sense whatsoever went out the window because Steve was kissing him. Tony stalled out, rewound a bit, tried that thought again. Steve was kissing him, still kissing him. This was happening. Tony wanted to pinch himself, but he couldn't move, and oh god Steve's lashes were ridiculous. Tony could see them in detail, nearly count them, because Steve was that close and had closed his eyes and there was someone making a whimpering, wanting sound and oh that was him.

It was--soft. And warm, so warm, but at the same time kind of--bossy. It was just a touch of lips, the slightest sucking at Tony's bottom lip, a minimalist scrap of teeth, but something in it said, Stay. Stay and see this through. You won't regret it.

Tony liked that, more than he would ever admit out loud, probably. Normally, he'd have answered by burying his hands in Steve's hair and deepening the kiss, wet and hot, but Steve still had his arms and seemed determined to control the pace, so Tony griped Steve's elbows and leaned in just a little. His tongue against Steve's lip was practically polite, a coy little dip and curl to say, Excuse me, sir, would you mind terribly throwing me up against the wall and rutting until we're both a sticky mess?

Then Steve opened his mouth with a low groan and yes, perfect was pushing Tony backward. Except, when Tony's back thumped lightly against the wall, he hissed as a sudden surge of unexpected pain lanced through him and oh yeah he'd been thrown through a window today. How had he forgotten that?

"Tony?"

"Sorry, ignore that, not important. Carry on." He leaned in again, but Steve was a solid, unmovable object and his glare was an irresistible force.

"Are you hurt?"

"I..." He should lie, because this was rapidly going nowhere he wanted, but instead he said, "A little. No big deal, though."

Steve frowned, giving Tony a quick once over that under other circumstances might have been titillating, but now made Tony want to turn away and hide. Instead he just held as still as possible, trying to project the image of perfect health.

Steve looked unconvinced. "How?"

"Loki. Threw me out a window as a distraction. Thor was after him." At Steve's wholly incredulous look, Tony said, "Yeah, no points for creativity."

"Why do these things happen to you?"

Tony shrugged, then winced and then tried very hard not to look as if he'd winced, but by Steve's darkening look he'd probably failed. "Um. You like me anyway?"

"I do," Steve said with simple honesty that stole Tony's breath. "Do we need to take you to a hospital?"

"Pepper fed me eggnog--virgin because she's a horrible person--and Happy and Rhodey ignored me all night. I'm firing everyone."

Steve stared at him like Tony's answer hadn't made even the slightest bit of sense. Tony reviewed it in his head, checking the logic, and was reminded why he'd nearly failed geometry--because he'd always written the prove statement and skipped the proofs. That part was boring. For Steve, he'd try.

"Those are the people who know when I need to go to the hospital no matter what kind of 'stupid lying lies come out of my mouth'." Tony sketched air quotes and did not roll his eyes because he wasn't (always) a five-year-old no matter what Pepper said. "Rhodey's words, by the way."

Tony wasn't sure the explanation actually helped, but Steve's expression relaxed into easy affection, making Tony's heart beat a little harder, especially when Steve leaned in--carefully--and kissed Tony again. These kisses were gentle, searching, the wide palms of Steve's hands cupping Tony's jaw, long fingers trailing across his neck, fingernails scraping lightly against Tony's skin as they slid along the short hair at the nape of his neck, evoking full body shivers.

Tony made another little sound of want which should've been embarrassing at Tony's age and experience, but he didn't care, and instead he gripped Steve's wrists, fitting fingertips against the rapid-strong pulse he found there, thumbs brushing the backs of Steve's hands. When Steve fit his own thumbs against the crook of Tony's jaw and tilted his head up for a better angle, Tony let him, leaning into it, away from the painful wall and into Steve. Steve took his weight, but more than that, he supported, cradled Tony like he was a precious thing.

And wasn't that ridiculous? Steve was the precious one, dear and sweet and perfect. There wasn't a lot in Tony worth holding on to, but whatever he had, he'd give Steve.

Then Steve was pulling away, and there was a moment where Tony clung to him with a desperation he was never going to admit to in public, and then there was another moment where a sinking, cold feeling made him rock back on his heels because of course Steve was going to come to his senses. Quicker than most, but then he was a Super Soldier.

"I don't want to do this--" Steve said.

Tony flinched. "Right, sure. Absolutely. For the best." Which was, he was fairly horrified to discover, pretty much the same thing he'd said when Pepper had given him the "we do much better as just-friends don't we?" speech. This was like a Relationship Lightning Round.

"--here," Steve finished.

Steve's fingertips flexed, tilting Tony's chin until Tony dragged his gaze from Steve's shoulder--where it'd fallen when Steve broke the kiss--to meet a steady, searching blue gaze. Part of Tony was still trying to pull away, but another larger part wanted to press closer.

"I don't want to do this here," Steve repeated, and he wouldn't let Tony look away, which Tony sort of desperately wanted to do because he was sure there were all sorts of things in his eyes right now that he didn't want Steve to see. Weaknesses, fucking juvenile longing like he was a heartsick teenager. Things that could hurt them both, things that had never been safe for Tony.

"What," Tony managed, mustering a flirty flippancy that was only slightly shaky, "you don't want to do this up against the wall? I promise it'll be hot."

"You're hurt," Steve said with a sternness that was only slightly diminished by the blush creeping up his throat. Tony wanted to lick it, follow the path of heat with his tongue. He swayed forward without really meaning to, but Steve held him back. "And I--maybe. Some day."

Tony gave him a startled look and Steve turned even more red but didn't break eye contact.

"Not now, though," Steve continued. "Not...the first time. That should be..." Steve huffed out a breath and a rueful, abashed smile touched his lips and eyes and made Tony melt a little. "I meant to do this all differently. There was going to be--wine, a balcony, moonlight."

That anyone would bother with Tony Stark--who, by reputation, was easy--made all the mean-spirited teasing on Tony's tongue dry up, the insinuating whispers of how this would never work out go silent. He was left blinking, feeling a bit like he'd been knocked through a wall--or out a window again, in free fall.

"Why?" Tony asked, genuinely curious.

Steve frowned at him, like he wasn't quite sure of the question. "Because that's what you do? When you like someone. I mean, it's what I'd do if you were a girl." He started to look a little worried. "Should I have done something with cars or...I guess...robots? I don't know of anything particularly romantic involving--"

Tony snorted, and Steve started getting a hint of that sad look, like Tony had hurt his feelings and it made Tony backtrack hastily. "No, I mean...you don't have to bother with all that. You could just give me a hint of come hither and I'd follow you anywhere."

"I don't think that's true," Steve muttered, ducking his head a little, breaking eye contact finally.

Tony stared at him, gears slowly turning, coming out of the stall that Steve's touch had put them in. It was easier, now that he wasn't pinned by earnest blue eyes or completely distracted by sweet kisses, to notice the subtle tension that leashed Steve's body, hunching his shoulders slightly.

"You don't know," Tony said, a bit wondering.

Steve's eyes flicked to his again. "Know what?"

"How sure a thing I am, with you."

The look he got was a new one, a sort of disbelieving mixed with hopeful. No, that was wrong. Tony had seen it a few times before, when a plan had worked and no one had been too badly hurt, against all odds.  Tony wasn't sure if he particularly liked that a lot of this seemed to be registering as a battlefield to Steve--or maybe that was just Tony's interpretation of it.  Either way, not the most comfortable thought. Tony had the strong urge to kiss Steve, to see if he could soften the shocky edginess in his eyes.

"But you're Tony Stark, and I'm just..."

"Captain America. I've had a crush on you since I was eight."

"On Captain America. That's not really who I...I mean, it's part of me, but..."

"Okay so," and Tony gave into the urge to kiss Steve, then got kissed back, and by the time he finished his thought his voice came out a little breathy, "since we first met, then."

"When you were determined to be an asshole?"

"Hey," Tony protested but only very mildly because yeah that was sort of true. "I wasn't the only bird sitting in the asshole tree.  Besides, that's how I flirt."

"No," Steve said, immediately, "I've seen you flirt.  I've watched you.  I--" He faltered at Tony's smirk. "Stop that.  My point is that you're very charming when you want to be."

"Yeah, when I'm not serious.  When I'm serious I push people into mud puddles or dip their braids in ink or the futurist billionaire equivalent, anyway." Tony thought about that for a moment. "Possibly Pepper was right when she said I should mature some before trying for something more stable again."

"I've never seen you act that way toward anyone you didn't genuinely dislike."

"Well, it doesn't happen all that often.  In college there was Rhodey.  More recently, Pepper, although that's been done for a while." And it barely even hurt to say that anymore, especially when faced with Steve's sudden, warm smile. "What?"

"So I'm the only one?"

Shit.  There were worse things, much worse and more embarrassing things that had happened to Tony Stark in the course of his very colorful life, but a person might never know that from the way his tongue tied and a blush warmed the back of his neck. "Yeah but--don't say that too often, okay?  My reputation wouldn't survi--"

The rest of the sentence was lost in a fierce kiss, Steve taking him by the lapels and bringing their bodies flush together, hips fitting together and hello.  Even so, even though that hard press of heat should've been--usually was--the main attraction, even that was overshadowed by the way that Steve slid his arms--gently, so sweetly--around Tony and pulled him closer, holding him with that strength that could crush cement walls and also keep Tony from running, from breaking this apart, from breaking.  Oh god, Rhodey'd been right.  He was doomed.

Tony gave into it, pressing forward into that warmth, sliding his hands into Steve's hair and mussing the perfect part.

Which was when the security alarms went off, a level five alert--danger on the premises, something had slipped through all the layers of security surrounding the hellicarrier and had actually managed to get on board, not only that, but into the lower levels.

Tony kept kissing Steve until Steve pulled away with an obvious reluctance.

"Tony--" he said, first attempt at speaking still muffled by the press of Tony's lips. "We should--the team, Tony--!"

Tony groaned as he relented, pressing his face against the crook of Steve's shoulder. "Hate them," he muttered against Steve's throat, voice a husky growl he barely recognized. "They're all fired."

Steve nuzzled his temple and then kisses his ear, before separating them. "If it's a false alarm, I won't stop you."

It was and it wasn't a false alarm.  Nothing was immediately on fire in Meeting Room 3, but there were new scorch marks and a lot more weapons visible--Natasha alone was holding about six knives, the new ones she'd gotten for Christmas, Clint had his bow out, even Dr. Foster's pretty friend had fired up her taser. A contingency of SHIELD agents were crouched in formation around the main doorway, guns out, all very sleek in their black bodysuits, which were only slightly less badass for the Santa hats and Rudolph noses and holiday-themed pins a few of them sported.

 Also, there was Loki, dangling in suspended animation, upside down and naked near the ceiling.

"Oh hey," Tony said as he paused at the door, bypassing the SHIELD agents with barely a glance, and took in the scene. "The new security systems work."

Thor turned toward him, and the perplexed distress on his face melted a bit into a warm smile. "FRIEND OF IRON, it is good to see you well.  I afeared for your safety when my brother did accost you."

"Yeah, I'm good." Tony's eyes widened and he held his arms out in alarm as Thor strode toward him. "No need to hug me--!" But of course, there was hugging anyway, and back thumping, and Thor's biceps were really unfairly hard and muscle-y and ow.

Steve stepped forward after ordering a stand-down-weapons-away-at-ease-you-uptight-bastards (not Steve's words, but Tony mentally filled in for him), extricating a somewhat rumpled Tony from Thor's arms before glaring at the evil mastermind that dangled in thin air like a prized catch of the day.

"What is he doing here?"

"I requested his presence," Thor rumbled, planting his feet at the sight of Steve's hostility.  The air tasted, suddenly, of lightning. "You, yourself, encouraged us to bring those with whom we share deep bonds in order to celebrate that which keeps us together. I have been told that is in keeping with the spirit of this winter festival."

Dr. Foster, sensing trouble, detached herself from the wall where she'd been writing equations for Bruce with an eyeliner pencil and slid into Thor's space.  Thor's defensiveness keyed down a few notches as she slipped her arm into his.  Her pretty friend hit the button on her taser, making it spark, though she hung back with Rhodey near a plate of sugar cookies.

"He's family," Tony summed up.

"He threw you out a window." Steve's face was hard. "Twice."

Tony had not expected to be the forgiving one in this relationship.  Oh god, he'd just thought relationship. He checked the backs of his hands--which was the only quickly accessible visible skin surface.  Nope, no hives.  Huh.

"Christmas amnesty, babe," Tony said, firmly. "He's forgiven, for now.  Oh wait."

With an imperious gesture, he swiped Spider-Man's camera, ignoring the whimpered "But why is he naked?" and took a few pictures of Loki, Thor posing with a thumbs-up in the foreground. Dr. Foster rolled her eyes and went back to her...Tony squinted at the math...calculations on the gravitational singularity of a Schwartzchild wormhole.

"Okay, now he's forgiven," he said after he'd downloaded the pictures into several encrypted databases and handed the camera back.  Spider-Man held it out at arm's length and Tony could read his vaguely disgusted expression even through the mask, like naked man-parts could give him cooties even through digital images. "JARVIS!" 

"Mr. Stark?" JARVIS's voice piped from the intercom.

Coulson muttered, "Why is Stark's OS installed in SHIELD headquarters?"

Tony ignored that, too.  If SHIELD didn't want him to upload hyper intelligent AI into their computers, they shouldn't ask him to build them things.  "Release our prisoner, would you?  Er," he caught Thor's stormy look and added, "and mark him as 'guest' for the duration of his stay, please."

"As you wish, Mr. Stark.  Should I also endeavor to find Mr. Laufeyson some suitable attire?"

Tony blinked. "Who?  Wait, he has a last name?"

"I BELIEVE I HAVE A SOLUTION TO MY BROTHER'S LACK OF CLOTHING," Thor declared to the ceiling and held up a mud brown sweater sporting a prancing white reindeer on it.

"Why is he yelling?" Rhodey asked the pretty friend.

"Maybe he thinks that's the only way JARVIS will hear him?  I don't pretend to understand mythical Norse dudes."

"That's perfect," Steve said to Thor, one corner of his mouth hooking into a smile that was surprisingly vicious.

Thor beamed.  Loki dropped unceremoniously at his feet.

"Please please give him pants, too," Spider-Man pleaded.

Tony grinned at Steve. "Your mean streak is so adorable."

Steve relaxed a bit, enough to smile back and fit himself against Tony, slinging an arm around him to pull him closer.

"If you two are going to be kissy-face now, I'm going to need more alcohol," Clint declared, easing his arrow out of his bow.  Beside him, Natasha made the knives disappear in a very slick and terrifying way and came out of her fighting stance, accepting her cocktail back from Pepper. 

"Here here," Coulson agreed, then promptly pulled rank and got a few baby SHIELD to go on a beer run. 

Tony flipped them both off as Thor dragged a now somewhat haphazardly-clothed Loki over to them.  The rest of the agents eased into the room, most of them making beelines to the food platters or the punch. Maria Hill vanished for a few minutes and came back with pants--not her own, so Tony didn't want to know where she'd gotten them from. She offered them up to Thor and kept her hand near her gun as she eyed Loki.

"Proper introductions!" he declared, more-or-less shoving Loki forward once he was dressed.  Tony felt a surprising twinge of sympathy for the bedraggled and awkward picture Loki presented, like a wet kitten.  A deadly and evil wet kitten.  So, just a normal kitten, then.

"My brother," Thor clapped Loki on the shoulder and smiled at him warmly. "Loki Laufeyson.  Loki, my brave and worthy teammates."

"Yes, we've met." Cool eyes scanned them, imperious and collected despite being powerless and essentially surrounded by enemies, barefoot and wearing borrowed pants and a ridiculous sweater.

"How's your head?" Tony said with a smirk, because he could not leave well enough alone.

"Well enough.  How's your back?"

Tony's grin was all teeth. "Okay, group shot!  I think we need to memorialize this.  For, you know, future generations."

What he meant was future blackmail, and he knew that Loki understood him perfectly, but he also knew--well, okay guessed, but Tony Stark guesses were practically fact--that Loki wouldn't do anything that might dim the happiness on Thor's face.

They ended up taking several pictures--Dr. Foster, her pretty friend ("It's Darcy," she said when she finally introduced herself, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Any chance you're going to remember that tomorrow?"  Tony, stacking cheese cubes into a visual representation of a terpenoid molecule said, "Probably not, no." Which was why, tomorrow, he was going to wake up to discover her name written mirror-image backward on his forehead in permanent marker.), Thor and Loki.  Tony with Pepper and Rhodey, Coulson and the SHIELD agents, Natasha and Pepper.  Spider-Man and every girl in the vicinity they could gather together because he made hilarious squeaking sounds when confronted by that many breasts and obviously didn't know what to do with his hands.

Somewhere in the middle of it, the SHIELD agents returned with more alcohol and the night sort of devolved into a boughs-of-holly blur, punctuated by scenes of strange, particularly when someone found a stash of board games somewhere and then there was drunken Twister and Coulson and Clint playing a very intense game of Battleship in a corner.

Dr. Foster's pretty friend had an involved discussion with Loki about the tiny animatronic snowmen, constructing what looked to be a mini Battle of the Little Bighorn with clothespin reindeer charging down a hill made of two chairs and a tablecloth.

Pepper, Natasha and Maria Hill were playing Truth or Dare with Spider-Man, though it looked to be mostly Get Spider-Man Drunk and Take Pictures of Him In Compromising Positions, which Steve had to rescue him from, after which Steve deposited him into Tony's lap and then went to confiscate the stash of rubber bands that Clint had acquired and was subsequently shooting everyone with, his aim just as true with the improvised weaponry as it was with his arrows.

"This is nice," Spider-Man murmured into Tony's shoulder.

"How drunk are you?" Tony asked.

"Very.  I think.  I don't know.  I can't feel my fingertips." He flailed his arm out as if that would somehow help and grabbed Loki's leg as the god--Asgardian--Frost Giant hybrid--guy walked past. "Oh hey.  Caught you!"

Loki glanced down, expression vaguely amicable--for him, which was to say, not outright murderous. "Was that a goal of yours?"

"What?" Spider-Man's unblinking mask stared up at Loki for a few seconds before he said, "You're very pretty.  I mean, not from this angle." Tony felt his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline and a bubble of laughter form in his chest, though he managed to choke it back to a cough for Spidey's sake. "From this angle you're sort of weird looking.  But, you know, normally. Why do you have to be all evil?"

"I could turn you into a toad, you know," Loki said conversationally.

"See?  Evil!"

When an attempt to extricate himself only dragged Spider-Man closer, Loki huffed a sigh and sat down.  It surprised Tony enough that he almost let go of his charge.  As it was, his loosened grip allowed Spider-Man to sort of fall sideways and sprawl onto Loki's legs, curling up with a contented murmur. 

Alcohol a warm buffer against the world, trapped by the weight of Spidey's legs and in the presence a once-arch-nemesis-type-person who wasn't, apparently, going to fuck off any time soon, Tony felt he should attempt conversation.

"So, how's...things?"

Strangely enough, Loki seemed to consider that question seriously. "Odd.  I'm not used to being...included."

"Really?  Thor seems pretty determined to make sure you're involved in everything."

"Thor, yes.  Always, Thor.  But not...others."

"Maybe if you weren't so crazy and violent," Tony said and refused to flinch at all when sharp eyes cut in his direction.

"That is something to consider," Loki admitted after a moment.  "If only most humans were not contemptible vermin." It was said with a lot less vitriol than usual, and though Tony wanted to defend humanity he decided he was far too drunk to manage it properly.  Instead, he let out the breath he'd been holding as subtly as possible as Loki continued in a speculative tone. "This...I do not hate it."

Well, it was just about the strangest conversation Tony'd ever had, especially considering that he actually knew how Loki was feeling.  Tony was used to being surrounded by people without actually interacting with them in a meaningful way.  This crazy band of scientists, soldiers, snipers, assassins and gods felt more like family than his actual family had.

Fortunately, before Tony could get too introspective, Thor deposited himself on Loki's other side and handed out what looked to be ale in mugs the size of Tony's head.  Loki sipped his with dignity and Tony was not about to be outdone by a wayward sort-of-enemy.

At some point, when the edges of his vision were getting fuzzy, Tony saw Steve cornered by Pepper and Rhodey and apparently either giving or getting a Very Serious Talk, from the expressions on everyone's faces.  Tony was vaguely worried, almost enough to intervene, but the couch was comfortable and Spider-Man, currently upright again, was teaching Thor "This Little Piggy" using Tony's feet.

There was a particularly humiliating moment when Clint and Bruce teamed up to pin Tony and strip him, replacing his gorgeous suit and tailored shirt with a hideous, bulky red sweater.

"You're not my favorite anymore," he told Bruce, muffled through knitted horror as they pulled the sweater over his head.

"I can live with that," Bruce said. "Besides, shouldn't someone else be your favorite, now?"

He gave Tony a gentle shove and Tony took a few tripping steps backward (when had he lost his shoes, how did that even make sense?) until he bumped up against a solid chest and looked to find Steve grinning at him. 

The other Avengers gathered around them, wearing ridiculous sweaters, Clint also sporting a fuzzy antler headband and making suggestive eyes at Natasha as he dangled mistletoe in her direction.  Loki was in his cute reindeer-helmet and had somehow been talked into wearing a Rudoph nose.  Someone had put a wreath topped with a red bow on Steve's shield.  Thor produced the Santa's Helper hat and dropped it on Tony's head just before Spider-Man snapped a picture, and that was not okay.

Eventually, Tony extricated himself to catch a breather out on one of the observation decks, finding (someone's) shoes first, because the night was cold even with the wind dampener and environmental modifier running at capacity.  Nick Fury had called the open balcony-like areas "goddamned security hazards." Tony called them "aesthetically pleasing and who's funding this and also designed it and came up with the technology to make it fly? So just shut the hell up."

He made his way to the railing and leaned on it, breathing deep, feeling his head clear a little.  Below him, the ocean was a dark, shimmering suggestion of constant motion.  Beyond the cloud cover were the sparkling lights of New York City and buzzing past him in increasingly close passes was Maria Hill, having commandeered one of the flying cars.  Clint was in the passenger seat and Tony thought he recognized Natasha's bare feet dangling out one of the back windows.

There was a sound behind him, the quiet swish of the doors opening. "Tony?"

Tony glanced back at Steve, standing haloed in the light from inside, his Santa's hat slightly askew, his cheeks flushed. "Present and accounted for, Captain. I haven't thrown myself overboard, yet."

"Don't even joke." Steve took a step onto the deck. "Can I hide out with you for a while?"

"Always glad to have your company."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Get over here, Steve."

Steve joined him against the railing, his elbow brushing against Tony's, his eyes on the moon hanging low in the sky.  The silence stretched until Steve shifted and looked sideways at him.  "How are you?"

"I have more in common with Loki than I ever wanted to know about but.  Yeah.  I'm good."  When Tony shivered, hunching further into the horrible sweater, Steve turned a little, holding an arm out in invitation.  Tony stepped closer and Steve pulled him close. "Much better, now."

"Sweet talker," Steve said, and leaned on him, contentedly watching Maria pull off a barrel roll, Clint pumping a triumphant fist out his window, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"How are things inside, Mother Hen?"

"Loki hasn't killed anyone, yet."

"I think he's as surprised about that as we are."

"I think you may be right."

"Shut up and kiss already!" Clint yelled as the car made another pass.

"Fuck you, Barton!" Tony replied, although it was probable that the words were snatched and scattered to the wind, never reaching their intended target. "Asshole," he muttered, shooting a nervous glance at Steve, who'd gone still and quiet beside him.

"Tony," Steve said, in a tone of voice that made Tony brace himself for a Big Talk.  He wanted to say something, anything, to shut Steve up, because Big Talks never ended in Tony's favor and he just wanted this night, one night, to savor standing here in Steve's arms. Before he could think of anything, however, Steve was speaking. "Are you sure I'm what you want?"

"Am I sure?" Tony burst out, not expecting that question at all. "Steve, do you know my reputation?  Most people would ask are you sure?"

"There isn't much I've been more sure about since I woke up," Steve said easily, immediately, and something in Tony's face--perhaps his utterly incredulous expression--prompted him to continue, "Sometimes I don't know half of what goes on in your head, but everything I do know just makes me want to know more.  You're just real--ah--"

"Swell?" Steve wrinkled his nose at Tony's teasing, which was too adorable, and Tony felt his smile go soft as he said, "So are you, Steve." He watched Steve duck his head, abashed and gave into the urge to wrap an arm around him in turn and hug him. "I won't say I don't have some misgivings about this.  I mean, I know me, and I know I have a high possibility of screwing this up."

"Me too," Steve said quickly. "It's not like I have all that much experience.  Colonel Rhodes and Miss Potts already threatened me with substantial bodily harm if I do anything to break your heart."

Tony was a little surprised at that. "Really?"

"Really.  They care about you.  A lot. They just want you happy." Steve's direct, unflinching look caught Tony off guard, pinned him. "I want that, too.  And, if it's possible, I want to be the one to make you happy."

The blush caught Tony by surprise.  Steve was the one saying ridiculously sappy things, but Tony was the one who blushed?  How was that even fair?

"Steve..."

Suddenly, an arrow struck the railing and stuck.  They broke apart immediately, Steve on the defensive, Tony ducking for cover.  The flying car buzzed the balcony, Clint now sitting in the passenger side window, having taken the shot over the hood of the car.

"Merry Christmas!" he yelled.

"Barton!" Steve's voice was a reprimanding whip crack, but Clint didn't look particularly repentant.

Tony considered the arrow, how it bit clean into the metal, the sprig of mistletoe that dangled from the end.  "Hm, Fury was right.  Structural weakness.  I see it, now."

"I have no idea what you're talking about and that's okay," said Steve, reaching for him, gathering him close and kissing him soundly.