st_arkravinghazelnut | December 18th, 2012

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December 18th, 2012

Following the Battle of New York, Tony Stark and his brand were becoming many things. The days of being a no-accountability war profiteer were already well behind him, but he hardly anticipated playing landlord to a ragtag team of honest-to-god superheros. In the aftermath, that was one the first things he set about doing with Pepper. With her blessing, Tony had thrown himself into it. Never one to half-ass things, he oversaw the extensive remodeling to accommodate the specific needs of each and every Avenger. Several were essentially homeless and there was no initiative for the superpowerly-abled, even in a place as progressive as New York.

Including Steve. Even if he called Stark Tower ugly and immediately found an apartment somewhere in Brooklyn. Even though Tony set aside one of the top 12 floors for him like everyone else. Fine.

Today was all about adding that personal touch. He was giving free room and board, might as well be a gracious sugar daddy about it. Besides, who wanted to thwart crime with a guy or gal whose liquor of choice you couldn't name? Just bad form.

Stopping outside the luxury suite dedicated to the arguably most unique new friendly friend, Tony bounced on his heels. He contemplated just walking in for a split second, but he liked having his cranium hammer-free. And it was still about being gracious--as much as he could be. "JARVIS? Ping Point Break for me." Tony didn't feel like knocking. This was a compromise.

"Mr. Odinson, you have a visitor." JARVIS dutifully announced from within Thor's quarters.

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"No hammer," Thor promises solemnly.

"I get at least 30 seconds of action. You know. To confirm." Tony brushed the styled edges with the tips of his fingers.

"To prove to you that my hair is genuine?" Thor asks.

Without answering, Tony combed his fingers in a little further. The locks were smooth, certainly not much different than human hair except for the exceptionally smooth, full texture. Certainly the product of the best conditioner Earth had to offer. He was close enough to catch a familiar musky scent in there--higher end, tasteful at the least. But he couldn't put his finger on it.

Thor has to admit that regardless of Tony's true intentions, his hand in his hair feels nice.

"Do you find it to your satisfaction?"

Testing his luck, Tony massaged the hair roots at the side of Thor's head, giving the strands between his fingers a gentle tug. As his fingers performed their investigation, his tongue peeked out in focus--not even broken by a steel plate in the road sending their end bumping and him bouncing an inch off the seat.

"Alright."

Thor sits patiently by as Tony works his hands through his hair. Thor wonders if this is normal for some humans. He has seen those wired contraptions in the mall that people slip upon their heads to massage it. He imagines that human fingers would be far more comfortable than the probing wire "fingers" of that device.

Once Tony is done with his exploration, Thor shifts in his seat; what he ate of the burger has settled uncomfortably in his stomach. Sure, he could pile a great deal down during feasts, but generally not all in such a short period of time.

He looks at Tony, all seriousness. "What is your assessment?" he asks.

"Real. With decent finish." Tony sat back and nodded at his partner's expression. "You feeling alright?"

Thor would have protested that his hair was more than just real, with decent finish, had he been feeling better.

"Your burgers settle heavily in one's stomach. Skating right after a grand meal may have not been my best idea."

Blinking, Tony cleared his throat. "Alright. JARVIS, pit stop at the nearest drug store."

"At once, Sir."

From a nearby console, out popped a 2' plastic bin mounted on a sturdy platform. "For your, uh, use." Though now Tony was doubtful it would hold the entirety of the Asgardian's stomach contents.

"No, I'm all right," Thor insists, though he is very much not all right. He looks over at Tony and forces a smile. "We Asgardians are perfectly capable of consuming more food than you average human. It is a point of pride for us to be able to consume so much food."

"Consuming and holding it down?" Tony's apprehension grew more by the moment, though he retained his best poker face.

"Especially holding it down," Thor says, swallowing audibly. "I just need a few moments to regain my equilibrium."

Thor turns to face Tony, then suddenly reaches out and touches his hair and runs his fingers through it, trying his best to ignore the churning in his stomach. "Your hair is nice, but you use too much product."

Tony's eyes widened behind his shades at the sudden hand on him, his primal freeze response taking over.

"Yeah, my natural hair texture is kind of--floppy and are you petting me right now?"

Thor's hand is still in Tony's hair.

"After you touched my hair, you didn't think I might want to touch yours in turn?"

"I did not." Tony sat and took it, glancing at Thor's lips and his throat for any unfortunate lurching. "Just--ah, gentle."

Thor gently massages Tony's scalp for a moment longer before drawing away.

"Thank you for today," he says, finally. "It has been enjoyable." Minus his unfortunate nausea/stomachache. "I do not believe I will be able to eat one of your hamburgers for awhile."

That thing had been massive.

"Too late for a spin on the hammer?" Tony put the suggestion forth since the day was nearing its close, smoothing his hair down. It had been on his mind from the outset, after all.

"I always have time for a spin on Mjölnir," he says. "It's one of my favorite things in our universe."

"Let's do it." Tony quirked a small grin. "After some pepto bismol."

Some time passed before Thor felt well enough to take a spin on Mjölnir, but true to Tony's word, the human medicine had helped and he managed to avoid emptying the contents of his stomach in Tony's car. That would have been embarrassing. He'd seen humans sick before -- Jane in particular -- and Asgardians were hearty enough that sickness wasn't a frequent occurrence.

It isn't long afterwards that they find a place appropriate for taking flight -- a place far enough away that they weren't likely to draw human attention.

"You're going to need to hold on tightly," he tells Tony. "When I spin the hammer, it sometimes pushes even the strongest mortals away. I'll hold onto you too, but I'd feel more comfortable if you did the same."

A quiet beach near Sandy Hook that overlooked the bay was the order of the evening. JARVIS had already been directed to deploy at the slightest sign of trouble--Tony had little doubts about the activity beyond the inevitable awkward question that was coming up...now.

"Where's the best--..." Tony's quick mind worked to decide the best orientation to grapple Thor. Whatever was the steadiest, the most secure.

"One arm over the shoulder, the other one under my arm. That's usually how Jane does it."

Thor smiles at Tony; he's aware that some Earth men for some reason had problems with that kind of closeness between two men. Setting aside Thor's own personal preferences, he didn't understand it. Maybe it was because he'd grown up unashamed of anything and spoke or did whatever he wanted without thinking about how he might be perceived for doing it.

That and Earth could be socially backwards compared to the other eight realms that surrounded it.

"It doesn't make you uncomfortable, does it?"

Tony rolled his eyes and then maneuvered his arms into the proper orientation. He asked for this, after all--even if he had to stand on his toes to do it.

"Well." He wiggled his brow. "Let us defy-eth the stars."

Thor wraps an arm around Tony, then starts spinning the hammer. The force of it lifts Thor's hair off his shoulders ever-so-slightly and then --

they're off, speeding skyward at a tremendous speed. Thor lets out an excited laugh and looks over at Tony, eager to see his reaction.

"It's different from flying around as Iron Man, isn't it? I love feeling that rush of air against my skin. I never tire of it."

And Thor has been in possession of Mjölnir since he was very young, comparably speaking.

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