Dance

Tony stood in front of the mirror and straightened the tie to his expensive suit. Pepper had hidden his sunglasses, forcing him to stare into his own hangover-red eyes. He’d been out with some Asgardian ladies the night before. The women here were certainly...energetic. And strong. He winced a bit as the abrasions on his wrists brushed against the sleeves of his jacket, even as he chuckled at the fresh memory playing through his head.

“Tony, are you ready, the-oh, for heaven’s sake.” Pepper strode into the room in a form-fitting blue dress and batted his hands away from his tie to take it into her own. “Obie’s head’s going to explode if you’re late.”

“Hey, at least I’m here. There were these twins-” He choked as the tie tightened around his throat.

“Yes, we’re all grateful you decided to show up for something, anything, you’re supposed to. Now hurry up. The car’s waiting.”

Tony worked the tie loose from his neck but made sure to admire his assistant’s retreating figure before letting out a big sigh. He didn’t understand why he was even here. It wasn’t as if the king of Asgard had requested he be there personally. Besides, Obie usually signed these contracts. They didn’t need him to shuffle his pen across the papers or bombs across the ocean.

Sighing, he gave himself one last look in the mirror, then followed Pepper out to the lobby. A larger man in a smart suit and wearing a big smile stepped towards him with arms outstretched.

“Tony! Thank god. I thought we’d have to leave without you.”

Tony saw the tip of his sunglasses sticking out of Pepper's purse and slipped them out as one of Obie’s arms snaked around his shoulder. Up ahead, Pepper was already stepping through the double doors of the lobby and out into the cool, bright sunshine where a black limousine idled at the curb. He stared out the window as they were driven through the narrow Asgardian streets, distantly aware of his companions’ idle chatter.

Pepper and Obie got along well enough but there was always a strange kind of tension between them that Tony could never place. It might have been the way Obie looked at Pepper, but if it bothered her she never let on. The woman was a fortress, the best thing that had come into his life. He wondered, sometimes, how he’d ever functioned without her. Truthfully, he hadn’t. Drugs, meaningless sex, endless mechanical wonders. Tony Stark was still a genius playboy billionaire but at least he was now the most organized genius playboy billionaire on planet Earth.

“-Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s head jerked around so he could blink stupidly at Pepper. She sighed at him again.

“You weren’t even listening, were you?”

He waved a hand at the window. “I just saw this really hot blonde go by? Have you seen the women here, Pep?”

Obie laughed, smacked a hand on Tony’s knee, and squeezed. “That’s our Tony. Don’t worry, son. You’ll get to see them all up close and personal at the party tonight. I hear they drink the hard stuff here.”

Pepper frowned at Obie over her phone but said nothing. Obie’s phone rang and he let go of Tony’s knee to answer it. Tony went back to staring out the window as Obie spoke yelled at someone from Stark Industries and Pepper typed at the keyboard of her own.

Soon, they were at a giant bridge that connected the royal land, a literal island unto itself, with the rest of the city. It had been colored in a variety of hues, until it looked like the rainbow it was named for. Ahead of and behind them, people were leaning out their car windows to take pictures of the famous landmark. Even Tony couldn’t help but lower his sunglasses to get a better look.

He had, of course, looked up Asgard online before the trip. He’d seen all the pictures-the Bifost aka Rainbow Bridge, the strangely shaped palace which was now looming in the horizon, even the royal family. The king was a broad man with gray hair and an eyepatch whose elegant wife stood by him in every picture with an expression of serenity and steel. Their children, now men, were a contrast in happy jocularity and snooty graveness.

For all he looked, though, Tony couldn’t find anything personal about any of these people beyond the basics. Names, ages, alma maters. Unlike in the States, people, even celebrities and politicians, had freedom to live their lives without fear of being splashed across the newspapers and internet pages over every indiscretion. Even their lovers, spouses, and children were safe from gossip mongers so prevalent in other countries.

It didn’t mean finding more info was impossible. He just had to look at sources outside of Asgard for the juicy bits. For instance, according to Asgard’s internet system, King Odin Borson was a wise king with a firm grip on the other realms under Asgard’s realm. He was wise and all-knowing, a good man and a good father. There were critics, of course, but they were all cold and factual, with none of the salaciousness of their foreign peers. They acknowledged the bloodiness of Odin’s past without mentioning a child which might have been born out of wedlock during the same time frame or the unnecessary number of lives lost keeping the distant Jotunheim in line.

Sports, though! It was practically a gladiator pit to these people. They were big fans of soccer, American football, rugby, hockey, really anything violent and bloody. Baseball put them to sleep and ballet seemed to send them comatose. It fit with their loud, physical, and brutally truthful personalities.

Instead of following the tourists through the loop around the palace, the car continued straighten ahead to a large gated dome situated on the outskirts of the palace grounds. A dark-skinned man with almost golden eyes peered intently at each of their faces as he inspected their paperwork, then waved them through without speaking. The gate opened to let them in.