I'll Have That Drink, Now

What if Loki got that drink he asked for, had a few more... and got quite drunk, in the process? Also, what if Thor had to escort an inebriated Loki back to Asgard? XD

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1. Chapter One

Loki supported his, now, crumbled and disheveled form upon a single, angular elbow, as he dared to face the Avengers' heinous tableau of victory; they glowered and towered over the - once - arrogant God, whom was, now, humbled and worn amidst the debris. He stared upward, eyes of garish green stretched wide and fearful; quite akin to a child.

Oh, dear.

Loki's eyebrows furrowed with, new, anxiety, as he was presented with a, rather, vicious looking arrow-tip, just inches from his pointed nose; which, of course, was kindly provided by an unamused Hawkeye, his former colleague in conquest.

The broken God, scanned the stance of the other Avengers; their expressions all depicted the same disgust and bemusement. They did look happy, at all... despite their infuriating victory. Loki sighed, defeatedly, shifting his position to, properly, meet their collective gaze of rage. He winced, slightly; he was quite certain that that 'oafish monster' had broken a considerable amount of his bones.

He couldn't even bring himself to look at Thor, he was certain his gaze would convey gut-wrenching disappointment, rather than anger. Loki thought it best to avoid the pain of eye contact.

The rest of them just looked smug - particularly, the 'Man of Iron' - apart from the 'soldier'. Loki deducted he was attempting to appear triumphant but he, in fact, was... pouting?

Loki stared, incredulously; this man was pouting. Where, in the Nine Realms, did they find these people?

His gaze returned to the 'Man of Iron'; Loki suppressed a shudder, as he watched a shit-eating grin plaster Stark's face. Perhaps, he'd consider accepting his - previous - "gracious offer"... Now, seemed as good a time as any.

Loki rolled his eyes, listlessly, and, uttered, with a slight quirk of his brow:

"If it's all the same to you... I'll have that drink, now."

To the God's utter contempt, Stark's smile stretched wider... Well, at least it wasn't a, 'no'. Loki was absolutely parched... and emotionally deflated; he figured an alcoholic beverage - a strong one, at that - would attend to both, sufficiently.

He, visibly, flinched, as Tony broke the silence. He chuckled, playfully:

"Well, I guess we can give the guy one for the road, right guys?"

The others - initially - offered the raise of quizzical eyebrows but then, merely, grunted in reluctant agreement.

"Okay. Point Break? Get the cuffs. Don't want 'im goin' all 'Sorcerer's Apprentice' on us; do we?"

The 'Fantasia' reference received an amused smirk from Clint and a flinch of confusion from Steve.

Tony gestured - to a highly, forlorn-looking Thor - toward the cuffs. The billionaire had craftily concealed them behind the bar, previously; he figured he'd need them. The cuffs were ornate and heavy... but not as heavy as the heart of the Thunder God. The pouting Steve, turned to him in sympathy, as the blonde god clamped his brother's thin wrists in the cursed bounds.

Loki, still, didn't even glance at him.

Tony - feeling awkward amidst the tension - piped up, jovially:

"So, what's your poison, buddy: Scotch on the Rocks, Lager Tops? Or are you more of a Cosmo-kinda-guy?"

Loki gathered himself, features crinkling in agony, as he rose, slowly, from the debris. Thor offered a large hand to steady him but the God of Mischief, merely, shooed it away, dismissively.

Still, he refused to look at Thor.

"I'll have whichever beverage inebriates me the quickest." Loki replied, dryly; his voice a monotonic droll, as he began to shuffle, lethargically, toward the bar. His newly-applied chains clinked, obnoxiously, with every, leaden step.

"Um... Okay. I'll just mix some stuff up then." Tony stuttered politely, receiving a judgemental glare from Natasha. Her expression of distaste informed him that getting the God of Lies drunk was a very, very bad idea.

Of course, Tony was going to ignore her.

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