st_ormbreaker | (no subject)

One pepto bismol smoothie later, Tony was able to put on his game face when Thor stole him away for whatever giddy plans he had. Was it fair that Tony got motion sickness from a roller coaster with Peter but not from routinely flying in a nanotech super-powered suit? No. Life wasn't fair. Thanks for noticing.

"The Lady from Shanghai?" His gloved finger tapped one of Thor's knuckles.

"No," Thor says, shaking his head. Try as he might, he can't remember the name of it. "There was this girl who was dressed very traditionally, but during the very end, her hair was very big and very curly and she was wore leather. Her best friend was a hairdresser, or wanted to be." Thor frowns, trying to remember the details. Darcy had been the one who insisted they watch it, and he had a hard time following the storyline; he hadn't been on Earth for very long then, so there were some things at the time he didn't grasp, and subsequently didn't remember for when enough time passed that he might.

"Oh. You mean Butter." Tony perfectly hid a smirk. "Or was it Oil?"

"Butter?" Thor repeats, incredulous. He strains his memory to recall. "No, I don't think it was that." Or Oil, either. "But something like that. Something you cook with."

Why that would even be relevant to a movie about two high schoolers that didn't really look at all like high schoolers being in love was beyond Thor.

"It'll come to you." Tony coughed into his hand, masking a chuckle. "I think I know which one you mean. Liz had the heroine's aesthetic going on for Halloween, if you remember. It was cute."

Thor nods as they head up the stairs to the fun house; the carnival worker in charge of the fun house stops them at the entrance, then after a moment, waves them in.

"I don't know -- it seemed strange to me that she had to change in order for them to be together," Thor says, as he steps inside. "I didn't feel there was anything that really needed to change about her before."

"There's some sociopolitical layers to that." Tony rubbed his chin with his free hand, freshly shaven and neatly trimmed for the day's activities. "The creators meant for Sandy to be interpreted as a critique of the, ahem, sexually repressive attitude of the 50's. That gets lost what with her just conforming to a different and self-destructive societal construct while her boyfriend...puts on a sweater for her." It had been a few years since he'd seen Grease. What with it being a musical, his mother had sat him down on numerous occasions with it.

Thor hmms at that. He can see that reading, now that Tony points it out, though. Asgard didn't have that sort of sexual revolution, but Earth seemed to move an entirely different speed of its own; change came far more quickly for Earth than it did for Asgard, much to the forward progress of Midgard's technology and culture.

"Would you put on a sweater for me?" Thor asks lightly as they climb up the set of stairs leading up to the funhouse. "I'm not sure that style would look as good on me."

“Depends on the style.” Tony jogged slightly ahead of Thor, not one to be outdone by the man’s formidably long legs.

“The Boyfriend?” His peacoat morphed into a darkly colored but soft and flattering V-neck sweater. “Mock turtleneck? Half-zipper? Maybe a Raglan or Roll-neck.” Even the instantaneous nature seemed to struggle to keep up with Tony Stark’s rapid lips. “Sweatervest but only with a chambray base if it’s Spring. Wine if it’s Fall.”

Thor watches with typical amusement as Tony's clothes fluidly change from one style to another.

"I have heard that on Earth, it is sometimes custom for a man to give his jacket to his partner," he says. "The closest equivalent we had on Asgard was a favour."

“You’re carrying my nanotech around in personalized accessories. Does that count?” They reached the top of the steps, Tony inspecting the colorful interior.

"I'd consider it a favour, yes," Thor says, smiling to himself. He'd read the gift as much when Tony first gave it to him, even if it hadn't been a conscious choice by Tony. "I think any coat of mine I'd give to you would be too big."

Thor drags a hand alongside the wall as they move further into the funhouse. It's weirdly eerie.

Tony's clothes began to morph into a confusing array of mismatched fashion as he yawned and meandered about (though he wasn't able to wander all that far with his husband's steady grip on him), nodding in agreement with Thor's statement. He gave his own cheek a little smack and his ensemble settled on a charcoal gray jacket with dark chinos. He squinted suddenly, as if processing their surroundings properly for the first time.

"Spooky. Did someone hit desaturate?" They colors were still there, but they were somehow darkened and muted. He bunched his shoulders up to cover his nose with a materializing striped scarf, ready to complain if a door was left open somewhere for the chill. He caught a reflection of himself in one of the mirrors, but he found himself observing the way none of the countless mirror frames lining the halls were perfectly aligned.

From out of the corner of his real eye, Thor catches a glimpse of movement where there shouldn't be. Yes, maybe there was someone else here in the hall of mirrors, but there was no sound that accompanied it.

"Did you see that?"

"See what?" Tony rubbed an eye beneath his glasses, willing his gaze to come back into focus to see much of anything in detail. His world felt off-center, though that wasn't out of the norm for him lately. All he could do was not let it show too much.

Thor's hold on Tony's hand tightens briefly with both a sudden sense of protectiveness and a sudden sense of fear. He was under the impression that these funhouse mirrors were supposed to be fun, but now, it felt more like something out of one of those Midgardian horror films.

Thor mentally deliberates whether or not he should scout ahead, but remembers what happens in horror films when people split up.

Thor glances over at Tony is on the verge of opening his mouth when he catches sight of another Tony in the reflection opposite him. He looks younger and his hair and clothes are different from what Tony is wearing now, but it's very obviously Tony.

"Tony?" Thor repeats hesitantly, still looking at the reflection.

"Yeah-huh. I'll look in a second" His free hand was digging around in his pocket for a caffeine shot he'd come armed with. It was minutes to lights out with the way the floors, pockmarked with scuffs and all, were starting to look like a fine place to nap.

While his profile turned towards the mirror, the image of a younger, sprier Tony Stark was facing Thor head-on, squinting back. He gave a little puzzled head-shake as if asking why the man was staring in the first place, lightly touching his facial hair in question to inquire if anything was stuck in it.

Thor lets go of Tony's hand and cautiously approaches the mirror, waiting and expecting his own image to replace what he's sure is a figment of his imagination.

It doesn't happen.

As soon as he's within arm's reach of the reflection, he reaches out and taps the mirror right where the other Tony's forehead still stands, fully expecting the illusion to dissolve right then and there as so many of Loki's had when he conjured them as a child.

The surface of polished glass and aluminum was flat against Thor's fingers, producing a little tip tap at the contact. The image of Tony was still as Thor approached, even stiller as he attempted to touch him directly.

Then, he tapped back, making the surface tremble.

Thor immediately jerks his hand back. "Oh my god!"

And with those three words uttered, Thor stumbles backwards, narrowly avoiding a collision with Tony; his back slams hard against a wall of mirrors behind him.

“Hey, hey!” Tony, fueled by caffeine and adrenaline at the explosion of shattering glass, shot after Thor and braced his hands on his husband’s arms. Shards of glass laid strewn about, and he guided Thor away from them. “You alright?”

Thor doesn't answer the question. Instead, he jerks himself out of Tony's grip and positions himself in front of him, a barrier between him and whoever might be creating these illusions (if they are illusions!) or whatever magical beings might truly exist behind the glass.

"It's unsafe here," he says, and he suddenly becomes acutely aware of Tony's vulnerability right now without the arc reactor. "We've got to move."

The sooner they were out of here, the sooner he'd be sure that Tony would be safe.

“We just got here.” Tony tried to step out from behind him only to get blocked with every attempt. “It’s just a little glass. We’ll head on through, alert the staff, they’ll take a broom to it.”

Thor spins around to face Tony, his shoulders squared as if to form a barrier between Tony and whatever might exist behind him.

"It isn't the glass that is dangerous."

From behind Thor stands another man in the mirror, his hair long and both eyes blue. He wears a ceremonial armor, gleaming a shiny gold. He looks at them with narrowed eyes, incredulous, as if he can't believe what he's seeing before him. He lets out a soundless laugh.

Peering out just over his shoulder, Tony blinked. Then when that first blink didn’t work, he blinked again.

Nope, the mirror image the same—and not a mirror image. Tony slowly lowered back down onto his flat foot, rubbing both eyes quietly before looking again.