Improvising the holiday spirit

[terresdebrume]

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Marvel’s MCU
SERIES: How to spot a keeper
RATING: General Audiences
WORDCOUNT: 2 099
PAIRING(S): Pre-FrostIron
CHARACTER(S): Loki, Tony Stark
GENRE: Holiday fic
TRIGGER WARNING(S): None
SUMMARY: In which there is a snowstorm, and the interstate shuts down.
DEDICATION(S): For maverikloki

The heavy thump of a closed fist over sleek black metal makes Loki swear between his teeth, sending more than a few choice words toward the unconscious boy currently running through the long line of cars that are stuck on the interstate tonight.

It’s New Year’s Eve, Odin and Frigga are with his brother -in Loki’s own flat- and he’s stuck on the damn highway, waiting for snow to stop falling… and people wonder why he left Iceland in the first place.

“Damn it,” Loki swears, “I should have known something like that would happen.”

Loki is only late once in a blue moon, which just so happens to coincide with his parents’ visits from Iceland. It’s almost a tradition now that Loki will betray his reputation of timeliness every time they come to the States, but it never makes it any easier to swallow.

“God fucking damnit!” He yells again, punching the horn.

Unsurprisingly, the only noticeable effect of his action is to create a full-blown honking concert, other drivers and family just as impatient as Loki is to get the hell out of the snow and into their loved ones’ homes… too bad Viktor had to break his leg just yesterday, or Loki would already be sipping on champagne and trying to remind himself trying to get drunk on the stuff is not a good idea.

“Great. This is just perfect.” Loki heaves a sigh, seizes his phone and texts Thor not to wait for him before starting dinner.

Putting his coat back on without knocking his rearview mirror off takes a lot of contorsion, a bruised elbow and more swearing than entirely necessary, but Loki ends up fully clothed and in the snow before he can reconsider the idea. He’s been stuck here for two hours, and he drove for three more before that: his legs need the movement.

“Fucking snowstorm eh?” A voice calls out.

In the line next to him, parked as if ready to squeeze its way into the farthest line, is a bright red sport car of undefined brand -maybe a tuned model- and, just coming out of it, a man with unruly black hair and bloody sunglasses in the middle of the night. Loki can almost feel his own eyes roll.

Still, since apparently there’s nothing better for him to do, he shoves his ungloved hands as far as they will go in the pockets of his long overcoat and shrugs:

“I’ve known worse.”

“Really?” The stranger says, shaking in his leather jacket, “Where are you from, North Pole?”

“Iceland,” Loki says, “but I grew up with Old Man Winter.”

“No idea who that is,” the stranger shrugs as the honking from other cars finally dies down around them, “but if he can help clear the weather I’d appreciate you phoning him an hour ago.”

“I tried,” Loki deadpans, “It only made things worse.”

“Oh,” the other one snorts, “he’s one of those. Welcome to the club man.” He shakes his head again, chasing snowflakes from his hair, then extends a gloved hand and smiles: “I’m Tony.”

“Loki,” Loki answers with some reluctance.

He doesn’t usually befriend strangers, not without a serious reason like his job or, occasionnally, his job –ironically enough, he and Viktor worked together for two years without talking, until they were caught in the same hold-up in the bakery near their office and bonded over being the only two people able to be quietly terrified instead of screaming- but then this one is a special case.

After all, judging by his face and tone, Tony is also driving to a father he can only sort-of-tolerate if there’s a state between them –or, in Loki’s case, an ocean.

“So, think we’ll be spared seeing the old men tonight, or do you think there’s a risk we might get there before midnight after all?”

“Wondering which is worse, actually.”

Tony laughs, and Loki finds himself smiling into his scarf, the hint of a sneer still teasing at the corner of his nose, ready to come out entirely. Still, Tony doesn’t sound mocking, more like delighted, and it’s difficult not to try and soak up his good humor when it is the least unpleasant thing Loki has heard today.

“Alright,” Tony says, “Tell you what, I know exactly how to settle that.”

Loki arches an eyebrow as the shorter man spins on his heels and dives back inside his car, displaying what Loki can only describe as a very fine backside.

(He wonders, briefly, if it says something bad about him that his first thought is ‘thank God for long coats’ … but then the voice in his head that sounds way too much like Viktor for his comfort points out it’s probably just another sign of the very poor state of his sex life, and Loki decides listening to imaginary voices is overrated.)

Tony re-emerges from his car just as a snowflake finds a way into Loki’s scarf, making him regret his recent haircut for the hundredth time today. His hair is amazingly slow to grow, and he just knows this will keep happening for the rest of winter, making him jump and shiver each and every time, because Loki is amazingly cold-resistant but only when warned.

“Tadaa!”

Loki has to look cross-eyed in order to make out the shape of a cupcake in Tony’s hand, the thick, fat kind you only find in the best bakeries. The icing is red and white, sprinkled with golden stars and one tiny, barely burning star-shaped candle made of electric blue wax.

“Let’s make a wish,” Tony says with an overly large grin. “For my unbirthday? Unless today actually is your birthday, which would suck because that means people celebrate your birthday as an aside and frankly, I don’t even see the point in that. If I had kids and they were born on the thirty first of December I’d just cheat on the date.”

“Today is not my birthday,” Loki answers, rolling his eyes but without managing to squash the half-smile glued to the corner of his mouth.

“Good,” Tony nods.

He holds the cupcake and its flickering candle between them, watching Loki with expectant eyes until the later finally agrees to get in position. Loki does his best to keep a straight, politely bored face, but when Tony gets to three it’s stronger than him: he screws his eyes shut and thinks: “This is my best New Year in years so far. Please don’t make it stop now.”

They blow together on the candle, and Loki snorts when he opens his eyes and notices Tony is crossing fingers with his free hand.

“Really?” Loki says, eyebrow climbing up on his forehead, which makes Tony snort and retort:

“You were the one who closed his eyes.”

Heat rises to Loki’s cheek as he tries to mumble some kind of excuse to get himself out of the slightly embarrassing situation. He is, however, saved by the bell, in the form of a loud buzz of irritation crashing on them like a wave.

Tony looks at Loki with a surprised face and flags down a young man in the process of walking back to his own car:

“What’s happening?”

“They’re saying they can’t free the road tonight,” the kid says, “The engines are needed to clear a hospital or something. They’re going to give out coffee and thermal blankets, but that’s about all I know.”

The kid shrugs and goes on his way, while Tony’s face nearly splits in two and the man throws his hands up in the air:

“It worked!”

Loki wants to answer, but is cut short by the angry groal of someone complaining about flying cupcakes, which is when he notices Tony’s hand is now only holding on their wish’s wrapper. Without thinking, he grabs Tony’s hand and pulls him back behind his own car, where they crouch like children waiting to play a prank, Loki’s grin larger than any he can remember wearing in the past six months.

Loki waits with a hand slapped over his mouth to prevent himself from laughing as he spots a bulky biker-type man with red and white frosting in his hair looking for someone to blame. Fingers squeeze his hand, making Loki turn his head, and the sight of Tony biting his lips not to laugh makes him chuckle.

“Thanos, leave it be,” a woman’s voice calls, and the angry man grunts some more, then leaves, allowing both Loki and Tony to burst into happy laughter that soon has them sit down in the fresh layer of snow surrounding Loki’s car.

“Well,” Tony says, “this is officially my best New Year’s Eve ever.”

He looks a bit wary then, as if expecting Loki to look completely weirded out by the information, but the truth is that he understands more than perfectly… so, obviously, Loki smiles and confesses:

“Likewise. But I think I know how to make it even better.”

He throws one more look through the windows of his car to check if Thanos is still here then, when the way is proven clear, Loki gets up and pulls his car keys out of his right pocket.

He walks toward the trunk of his car and opens it, revealing its more-than-generous content.

“Oh my God,” Tony huffs beside him, “were you planning on feeding an army or something?”

“Obviously,” Loki says, “You’ve never seen my brother eat. I hope you like oysters?”

“Please,” Tony says, “Who doesn’t? Stay here, I’ll get the wine.”

Loki laughs and gets his Swiss knife out, making quick work of the first oyster. The second one is a little more recalcitrant, but Loki coaxes it open with water he gets from melted snow, and keeps working from there. It’s still snowing all over him, so when the thermal blankets finally come by, Loki asks for one, which he promptly attaches to the lid of his trunk and drapes over his own head.

He’s pretty sure he looks ridiculous, but at least he’ll be dry and, hopefully, a lot less cold.

“Nice hat,” Tony comments when he comes back, making Loki chuckle.

“For want of a tree,” he says, “I’m willing to hold the tinfoil decorations.”

“You’re a saint,” Tony says with fake seriousness, “which almost makes me feel guilty for offering you this.”

‘This’ being a bottle of Sauternes -Loki’s favorite white wine- four lemons and a few slices of smoked salmon. Loki’s face may or may not be glowing at that point.

“I would have brought some cold turkey to go with that but the guy I traded with wanted the second bottle and I obviously couldn’t have that happen.”

“Funny ressourceful man with great taste in wine,” Loki chuckles as he tricks another oyster into opening its shell, “should I start courting you?”

“Only if you can find mistletoe,” Tony retorts.

He makes it sound so much like a challenge that Loki can’t help but set his oyster down and walk to the front of his car to retrieve a surprise of his own.

Tony laughs when Loki hooks the plastic replica of mistletoe Thor sent him onto the mechanism of the trunk.

“Well,” Tony says as he fills plastic cups with the wine, “I’m not certain you’ll actually need to do much courting  here. I always loved a man who comes prepared.”

This definitely sounds like flirting, so Loki doesn’t quite feel guilty about about answering:

“Prepared?” Loki trades his cup of wine against a precariously balanced oyster, “I was improvising. I am much more impressive when I have time to plan.”

“Well I can’t wait to see that,” Tony says as he knocks their cups together.

Loki holds his gaze as they drink their wine, and when midnight comes they’re more than a little drunk and punching Loki’s car horn like there’s no tomorrow.

Two days later, when Loki picks up the newspaper from his doormat, he is greeted by a picture of Tony and himself kissing under the fake piece of mistletoe, snow gathering in the creases of the thermal blanket above their head as they try not to spill their cups of wine.

He smiles as he read the slightly-exagerated article, then decides to text Tony in order to know whether or not he noticed they were making headlines.

The answer comes a few minutes later:

“Yes. So did the old man and his best friend. Shitstorm totally worth it.”

2013 is starting so amazingly well, Loki can’t even bring himself to yell at Thor for using all the hot water again.