Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Don't piss him off," Fury warned Tony, scowling furiously at him for good measure. "I haven't finished settling the insurance gig on this place."

"Nobody's going to insure a not-so-secret government island housing posthumans, Fury," Tony retorted, hands shoved into his pockets, already irritable. The Triskelion had probably been designed by some sort of diabolical fitness instructor; there were wide, curving corridors that seemed to lead nowhere, and far too many staircases for something that was meant to be so futuristic. "Especially since one of the posthumans turns green and destroys cities whenever he gets angry."

It also meant that, furtive exercise regime or not, Tony was sweating gently into his navy pinstriped Caraceni suit, and they weren't even there yet. Maybe Fury was taking him on the scenic route, so he could finish his lecture before they even got to the shindig.

Probably.

"Stop changing the subject," Fury's already dour face was tight with the singular type of stress that came from having to babysit all of America's posthumans 24/7, coupled with the resignation that the SHIELD-funded meet-and-greet had supplied alcohol to said posthumans in a billion-dollar building that hadn't yet been insured. "I know the two of you have some sort of fucking problem with each other, but we want him in the Avengers Initiative."

"We don't need him in the Avengers," Tony complained, not for the first time since he had found out that Fury had planned on adding another genius-playboy-philanthropist-adrenaline-junkie onto the Avengers ticket. Which, okay, fine, Tony had enough of a healthy ego to know that he, Anthony Stark, was unique, and the Iron Man suit was far more advanced and shiny than the Thor suit, but it still hurt his pride. "Wait. Are you buying insurance from Asgard Corp?"

Fury's expression didn't change, which told Tony everything that he needed to know. "You're all sluts," he marvelled, astonished and disgusted, which was naturally the point at which Coulson popped up at his other elbow like the taser-armed meercat that he was, causing Tony to yelp in shock. "Jesus Christ!"

Coulson had the uncanny ability to smile in an absolutely friendly way while telecasting blue murder with his eyes, and it always freaked Tony the fuck out. "Sir, the guests are all here. Captain Rogers has made a firm impression with Odenssen."

"He'll make a firm impression on anyone," Tony muttered. Captain Rogers combined a made-for-GQ mega-watt smile and the rigidly formal confusion of the very elderly when it came to social events, and for some reason even the very jaded Pepper seemed to find it endearing. "Why did you have to make me attend? If he's going to join the team anyway, I'll meet him sooner or later."

"Because if there's going to be a problem," Fury's heavy emphasis on the last word indicated strongly that the Director had very little faith in Tony's skills at diplomacy - hurtful, really, "Then I'll rather it happened when you both aren't in your wrecking ball get-ups," which showed that Fury had sadly underestimated Tony's ability to get into destructive trouble no matter what he was wearing; Tony would have thought that Fury would have learned since Zanzibar.

Still, SHIELD was probably catering good champagne, and/or whisky, and Tony could do a bright smile and a firm handshake just like the best of them if he had to, and besides, Pepper had threatened to do creatively horrible things to Tony's balls if he 'fucked up' and they lost SHIELD as a client. So.

The Triskelion's courtyard had been cleared of fighter jets for the time being, and it was actually a warm night, pleasant enough for a soiree. Coulson melted away instantly into the crowd, presumably to tase the deserving and unsuspecting, and Tony could see Clint and Natasha lurking in different corners on the fringe, clearly on duty despite having dressed for the occasion. Bruce was moping next to the buffet, and the Captain seemed to have retreated to his safe pocket of retired old military men that were always now suspiciously present at SHIELD social functions ever since the HDTV Incident.

Not that that had been in any way Tony's fault, in his opinion.

And Tor Odenssen, grinning that particularly guileless, concussed-puppy grin, in the thick of it, dressed up in a sleek-cut Huntsman suit and talking it up with some of the in-house SHIELD engineering flunkies. Scowling, Tony tried to slink away, possibly to take up a moping position next to Bruce, only for Fury to grab him pointedly by the elbow.

Damage control, check.

"God kveld, gentlemen," Odenssen smiled broadly when Tony was dragged ushered over. "Director Fury. Ah, and Mister Stark. It's a pleasure to meet you out of the Iron Man suit."

Younger genius-playboy-philanthropists, in Tony's opinion, should at least have the decency to be scrawny little pimply runts, not tall, broad-shouldered and golden-haired people who possessed a grip that could probably dent steel. Slightly blindsided and trying to retrieve his hand before his bones were crushed, Tony grit out the first thing on his mind. "I hear that you're being touted as the next Tony Stark."

Fury glowered at him, but the damage was done; Odenssen's smile faded a fraction, then he inclined his head and winked, "A new version, perhaps."

Asshole. "New things aren't always better."

"So I have been told before, old man," Odenssen had the fucking gall to twitch his smile into a playfully impish grin, and even as the SHIELD flunkies giggled nervously, Tony could see the look of sharp challenge in Odenssen's eyes.

Well. Game on. "Sorry about SolakTech," Tony put on his best, syrupy, made-for-shareholders smile. Stark Industries had bought out SolakTech, an emerging green tech company, as the successful bidder against Asgard Corp only last week.

"Stark Industries has been bounding from strength to strength ever since you stepped down as CEO," Odenssen drawled, and okay, that? That was low. And besides, who the hell used 'bounding' in normal conversation?

"Sacrifices were needed so that we could concentrate on the future of clean energy," Tony noted blandly.

"A commendable goal," Odenssen agreed, "Our Skald's Spear technology already runs Norway sustainably. We will be unveiling a cost-efficient upgrade to it this autumn in our Expo, where we hope to sell the system to the rest of the world's governments. Perhaps you could find the time to attend? I'll send you a ticket."

"All right, you two," Fury cut in, even as Tony bristled, "For fuck's sake. Tony, go talk to Bruce. Odenssen, let me show you around."

"Always a pleasure to meet America's best," Odenssen said dryly, without even looking at Tony, and unfortunately, the cutting retort died unsaid in Tony's throat when Coulson reappeared at his elbow, radiating murderous intent while smiling like an angel.

Bruce was lurking in a corner, miserably poking at a plate of scampi. "Tony."

"Bruce." Tony had elected for whisky, instead. At least SHIELD had pulled out all the stops and had gone for some antique Macallans. "Kids nowadays," Tony grumbled, before wishing that he hadn't said that. Now he felt petulant and old.

Bruce made a neutral sound. "Asgard Corp's done good work in the field of climate change reversal. They've figured out a way to convert-"

"Let's not talk about Asgard Corp."

"Sure," Bruce shrugged, "But you're going to be on a team with Odenssen. Can't avoid him forever."

"We don't need him," Tony grumbled.

"All right, Tony," Bruce said reassuringly. "But it's not our call."

"He's what, twenty-nine?"

"Cap's around that age, too."

"Really?" Tony asked, surprised. Rogers always acted like a grandma; it was hard to tell whether he was thirty years old or thirty million. "Wow."

"You're the oldest person on the team," Bruce added helpfully, almost as an afterthought.

"Fuck you, Banner," Tony rubbed a hand over his face. "Thanks for the information."

"Let's go to the lab," Bruce offered wryly, carefully balancing the plate of unwanted scampi on an unsuspecting potted plant. "I've got a new cyclic reaction on gamma output to show you. Maybe it'll distract you from your mid-life crisis."

"Someday, I swear that I'm going to make you Hulk out somewhere that you're never going to live down."

Surprisingly enough to everyone, possibly even Fury, the new team didn't turn out to be a disaster. By this time, Tony had already learned how to follow orders constructively, what with the Chitauri incident and learning that Rogers actually did have some talent for strategic planning despite the pole that he had up his ass; and as to Odenssen, he seemed to get along famously with Rogers, and seemed to be happy to let the Captain take the lead.

So the only stressful thing about the new team was the eyesore of a silver and black suit that Odenssen piloted. It was clunky, ugly, and had fucking steel feathers on the helm. Oh, and Tony didn't even want to mention the cloak.

A fucking cloak.

Well, to be honest, he had been forbidden from mentioning The Cloak by Fury, seeing as how the last time the Iron Man and Thor suits had duked it out had been over an off-the-shoulder comment by Tony about drapes, and they'd wrecked a considerable part of Hudson Park in the process, but still.

Kids nowadays.

...Fuck.

Maybe Odenssen's posthuman power was causing accelerated mental aging in rival genius-billionaire-playboys. It would only figure. Tony skulked down to Bruce's lab to brood, only to find Odenssen already there, fiddling with Bruce's cyclic gamma machine.

"Oh, hi. Tony." Bruce blinked at him, from where Bruce and Odenssen were mired in wiring. "Didn't think that you were coming in today."

Traitor Tony mouthed, behind Odenssen's back, and Bruce shook his head at him slowly, even as Odenssen did something in the circuitry that made the machine start up with a low purr.

"There we go," Odenssen grinned broadly, peeking up, and there was no way, in Tony's opinion, that an engineer should be able to look this good elbows deep in circuitry in a tight black shirt. "It works."

Bruce had wandered over to the holoscreens, where a system scan was running, and he whistled. "You've tripled the processing speed. And the yield spec. That's great!"

Grudgingly, out of professional curiosity of nothing else, Tony sidled over to take a look, and after about five minutes, sourly decided that he was impressed. "How did you come up with that? Thermocyclic principles have no real correlation with gamma theorems."

"Ah," Odenssen actually seemed genuinely surprised that Tony had asked. "I just decided to try it and it worked."

Tony took in a deep breath, and only Bruce's quick, pleading sidelong glance had him swallow it back down again. Maybe it was possible to be an idiot savant at particle engineering the way it was possible to be really great at the piano and nothing else.

And be young, golden-maned, and look like a swimsuit model, Tony's brain added helpfully. And be possibly just as filthy rich as Tony himself.

"I think I'll go check on Cap," Tony muttered, and decided to cede the field for now, slinking out of the laboratory. Maybe he'd go look for Barton. Barton was always good for getting drunk and maudlin with.

The God of Thunder, screamed the front page of TIME Magazine, Asgard Corp Hammers Out Green Energy Agreement with the European Union. Tony snarled something unprintable and tossed it across the room.

Pepper raised her eyebrows, trotting over to pick up the abused magazine, while Tony skulked in his kitchen and sulked into his morning coffee. "Should I unsubscribe from TIME, sir?" JARVIS asked mildly.

"Good cover photograph," Pepper noted. Odenssen was grinning broadly against a black background, in another gorgeous suit, arms folded, showing off the sleek line of his shoulders.

"Et tu, Pepper?" Tony groaned.

"Don't be dramatic, Tony," Pepper pursed her lips, "We weren't targeting the EU, anyway. And since when have you cared what the press said?"

"Right. Never." Tony muttered. That was true.

"You haven't been over at the Triskelion lately," Pepper added. "You can't hide in your house forever, Tony."

"I can if I want to," Tony snapped. "I have a lab here. I'm being useful. Ask JARVIS."

"Mister Stark has invented approximately two point eight potentially commercially viable items this week," JARVIS chimed in helpfully.

"'Approximately'?" Pepper repeated.

"The last one exploded. But I'm fine," Tony continued quickly, as Pepper's eyebrows rose further. "It's all quiet on the supervillain front. I don't need to be out there."

"Just three weeks ago you said that being around Banner makes you more inventive. Something about how 'conducive' it is to be able to speak to someone on your wavelength?"

"JARVIS is programmed to be on my wavelength," Tony muttered.

"All right, that's it," Pepper growled. "Tonight there's a charity ball at Gramercy, hosted by Stark Industries, and you are going. Bruce will be there," she added, more soothingly.

"Bruce doesn't like parties," Tony said automatically, then he frowned. "Why will Bruce be there?"

"Because the Avengers will be going, due to needing some good press after you guys 'accidentally' set fire to part of Brooklyn last week. Fury forwarded me the memo," Pepper folded her arms, assuming the Pepper Battle Stance, which never ended well for Tony's pride or ego. "Apparently you repeatedly deleted it without reading it? Honestly, Tony. You can't act like a child at your age."

"That's low," Tony muttered. "All right. Fine. I'll go. But if the hotel blows up, we're not going to cover it."

As charity galas went, it was stultifying boring. Tony settled for lurking with Bruce beside a deformed ice sculpture of what was possibly a swan after his third glass of champagne, pleasantly tipsy and watching sourly as Odenssen and Rogers canvassed the crowd like five diamond pros. "You could Hulk out," Tony suggested, in an undertone. "Liven up the party."

Bruce sighed. "Tony, your... imagined rivalry with Odenssen is getting old."

"What?"

"He admires you, don't you know?" Bruce noted dryly. "He brings you up in almost every single interview. He asks about you when you're not around. Barton said that he only arranged to join the Avengers because you were in it."

Tony mulled this over, thoroughly mystified. "You're fucking with me."

"I'm not. Have you read any of his interviews? Apparently you inspired him to study engineering."

Ah. Well. "He arranged to join the Avengers?"

"There's a reason why Fury couldn't get the place insured by any local company," Bruce pointed out mildly. "It's a payout disaster waiting to happen."

"Then why is he a total asshole to me at every possible-"

"Not to sound childish or anything," Bruce interrupted, raising his glass, "But you tend to start it."

"I refuse to be lectured by someone who only drinks water at a party," Tony's mouth said, while Tony's brain reeled under the information barrage, unable to compute. "Really?"

"Maybe you could try to talk to the guy for five minutes without bitching him out?"

"I think I'm beginning to prefer you when you're green and smashing shit," Tony muttered.

"Maybe you're afraid that I'm right," Bruce continued blithely.

"Now you're being childish," Tony glared, because, okay, he was halfway and a little bit through his forties, and he did not just allow someone to rile him up by calling him chicken.

At all.

Therefore, pulling Odenssen aside somewhere quiet and out of the ballroom to talk was not so much a childish reaction to Bruce's words but a scientist's mature instinct to test a hypothesis. Seriously. Bruce should act his age.

Just like Tony.

"Mister Stark?" Odenssen asked, curious. "Was there something wrong?"

Okay, so, maybe Tony could start out nice. "We've been on the same team for a while, Odenssen. Why don't you call me 'Tony'?"

Odenssen blinked at Tony, startled, then he smiled, genuinely smiled, not one of those faked up grins that Tony himself tended to wear when there was press nearby. "Sure. If you'll also call me Tor."

Somewhat surprised, and egged on by the champagne, Tony asked, bluntly, "Bruce said - do you really mention me in all your interviews?"

"You mean you've never..." Odenssen - Tor - ducked his head, as though abashed, running his fingers through his hair. "I guess you're probably always busy. But yeah. Most of them, sure."

"Really now," Tony noted slowly.

"Well," Tor shrugged, and then he grinned, brash and boyish, "You've been a pretty big inspiration to me all my life, Tony. You're amazing. The way you decided to change your life after Afghanistan, when you could have just decided to make more weapons and wipe everyone out? The way you've now pretty much privatised world peace? Sure. I'm not embarrassed to admit that I admire you. Why do you think I wanted to join the Avengers?"

Tony had frankly thought that it was just another one of Life's constant attempts to force him into a serious drinking habit. "Ah. Heh. Well. I never thought - we haven't quite hit it off on the right foot each time."

"It's pretty frustrating when someone you look up to treats you like you're insignificant," Tor noted dryly, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his tailored pants, "Especially when you've been harboring a major crush on them since you were fourteen."

The 'Thunder God' was really not afraid of anything, Tony realized wryly. Especially not embarrassment. "All right," Tony conceded, "I suppose I was jealous." When Tor's eyebrows rose, Tony added, grumpily, "I don't react well to direct competition. And it didn't help that you look like... I think Pepper saves magazines where you feature on the cover and leaves them around her office on purpose. They're pretty popular with the girls at HR, and-"

Tor had leaned over, his expression considering, and had brushed a quick kiss over Tony's lips, and Tony froze up, absolutely floored - he hadn't expected that in the least and - Tor pulled away quickly, grinning like a boy who'd been caught with a hand in a candy jar but was sure that he'd already picked up the best candy, and whenever Tony was shocked, he became competitive. "If you think that's a kiss," Tony growled, grabbing Tor by his shirt collar and dragging him down, and yeah, that was good, the way Tor rumbled against him and curled one of his big hands into Tony's hair, and he tasted clean, mint and champagne, and there was something flashing, over to Tony's left, but that wasn't important.

"Tony..." Pepper marched into the kitchen, brandishing a fistful of what looked like the trashy type of morning paper, even as Tony nursed his first morning cup of coffee. "You did not."

"Whatever it was, I can explain," Tony said reasonably, even as Pepper tossed the paper onto the kitchen table. In full colour, on the front cover of the National Enquirer, was The Kiss.

Blinking owlishly, Tony nudged the paper over. Billionaire Playboy Romance! The headlines shouted, as well as What could this mean for Scarlett Johansson? "For the record," Tony said slowly, "I never dated Scarlett."

Pepper pinched at the bridge of her nose. "If this is one of your crazy, petty forms of revenge-" she began, only to hesitate, glancing up sharply. "Mister Odenssen?"

"Hi. You must be Pepper." Engineers had no business looking this good in the morning in a bathrobe that was obviously way too small, Tony decided, glancing behind his shoulder, especially pre-coffee, and after a night spent constructively testing the structural integrity of Tony's bed when they ditched the gala. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Not from Tony, I think," Pepper raised both eyebrows when Tor draped himself over Tony's back and brushed a kiss over the nape of his neck.

"We had a misunderstanding," Tony explained, trying not to squirm under Pepper's glare. "Duly reconciled."

"Honestly," Pepper seemed to try to frown, then she smiled instead, shaking her head. "You're never going to change, Tony. Try to get some work done today, all right?"

"Tyrant," Tony sat up quickly when Tor's hands started to wander over his thighs, and when Pepper chuckled, rolled her eyes, and left, he found himself bodily picked up and placed on the kitchen counter, which, okay, was hot. Tor probably worked out. "Good morning to you too," Tony added, as Tor grinned up at him and leaned over to kiss him, still damp and warm from the shower.

When Tony curled his arms over Tor's shoulders, Tor pulled him forward, flush against him, and that was definitely a hard bulge, pressed between Tony's legs. Chuckling, Tony licked into Tor's mouth just to hear that rumble again, and took a quick self inventory. He was still sore from the night, but if they went slow... "Whoah," Tony clutched at the counter, blinking, when Tor took another, toe-curlingly possessive kiss before pushing Tony down over the cold stone counter, grinning playfully as he bent to take the zipper of Tony's jeans between his teeth and drag it down.

"Commando?" Tor noted, appreciatively, undoing the button and taking Tony's already very interested cock in hand, giving it a quick squeeze.

"I like to be ready." Tony propped himself up on his elbows, and Tor grinned at him again before leaning down and licking up, slow and steady like he was savouring it, Jesus Christ, and then he pressed one big hand against Tony's belly and swallowed him down and okay, maybe, Tony could forgive Tor for being young and talented and fucking hot because he hadn't seen anything this good between his legs, ever-

It was over rather embarrassingly quickly, and even as Tor pushed himself back from the counter, swiping the excess with the back of his palm and licking it, God, Tony managed to regain enough processing power to slide off and onto his knees, and the bathrobe? The bathrobe was a great idea. Tor braced himself the counter and whined, fucking whined for it when Tony took hold of his very gorgeous, uncut dick and showed him the benefit of dubious experience. Having no gag reflex due to years of 'training' was a great trick for turning hot upstart engineers into moaning, whimpering wrecks, as it turned out.

Afterwards, Tor settled himself in one of the bar stools, accepting a coffee and unashamedly tousled, his bathrobe left open, and perhaps there was something to be said for handsome young Norwegians. "Want to catch lunch? We could head to Per Se."

"Oscarsgate is better," Tor shrugged, "In Oslo," he added, helpfully, in case Tony wasn't aware, which Tony was, thank you fucking much, "I can fly us there. In my jet."

"I have a jet too, thank you," Tony said automatically, then he scowled when Tor merely grinned at him.

"Or let me get my suit from the Triskelion," Tor curled a hand around Tony's hip, and that playful, far-too-presumptuous possessiveness should have been annoying, and not cute in the least, especially when Tor leaned over to purr against his ear, "And I'll race you there, old man."

"Why, you little-" Tony began, only to dragged over for another kiss, and Tor definitely had some sort of brain-altering power against genius-billionaire-engineers; Tony was relaxing, pressing into it, and when Tor took a final, wet lick up over his mouth and pulled back, Tony found himself drawling, "Prepare to get schooled, kid."

"Big words, Mister Stark," Tor shot back, with a smirk, but he didn't let go of Tony's hips, and the warmth was settling in, gentle and tender, getting under Tony's skin as he set his hands on Tor's shoulders and leaned back over.