Delivery
Tony Stark wasn’t a very good angel. When he fell all those years ago, as much as Rhodey likes to argue it was his own fault, he’s adamant he just got caught with the wrong crowd.
Tiberius Stone asked him to follow and Tony, always being a romantic fool at heart, followed without question. Before you knew it, there he was falling into a boiling pit and denouncing his angelic ways for a more demonic ones. Rhodey? Well he said he followed Tony to keep him in line, Pepper was still furious with them, but over the past 6000 years she’s forgiven (but not forgotten.)
He didn’t make a good Demon either,if he was being honest, well as honest as a demon could be. Tony undeniably looks far better as a Demon than he ever did an Angel; C’mon black wings are just far more stylish than the white. While he looks the part, he’s never felt it.
Especially with his unconventional friendship with none other than boy scout, angel Steven Rogers. He was everything you’d expect an angel to be, morally good, inspiring and devilishly delicious looking and if it weren’t for keeping up his etiquette of being a daring demon to his superiors down below, Tony would have snatched the Angel up centuries ago.
However, that is not for lack of trying, like Tony said, he was not a very good demon and Steve Rogers made him want to fall all over again for entirely different reasons and while Rhodey would argue his love for blonde men is glaringly obvious and that it would have to be the work of heavenly miracles that stopped the superiors from finding out about Tony's correspondence with the angel that dated back all the way to the garden of Eden.
Steve would deny their friendship, but the millions of lunch dates and late nights spent in Steve’s art shop giggling over a rich bottle of wine suggests otherwise.
Tony was speeding through the busy city streets in his dashingly expensive Audi, getting ready to possibly tempt Steve to a spot of shawarma when his radio made a familiar static noise cutting off his ACDC jamming session he couldn’t drive without. The music was cut off by the voice of his demon colleague; Justin Hammer. Who quite literally was the bane of Tony’s existence.
“Hey there Stark! Important delivery from the big boss, need you to get it from the usual sight. Boss says it’s time.” the voice sounded smug, gaining what joy a demon could from ruining Tony’s day as per usual.
Tony groaned, butting his head against the steering wheel and taking a sharp turn left, heading to the usual meeting spot, a Graveyard. Typical for all demons and Tony supposed he can’t put it off since Justin mentioned it was a task from the devil himself. Fuck. Tony really couldn’t be arsed with this right now, he was looking forward to catching up with his angel.
Tony used his own little demonic miracle to get to the Graveyard in a matter of minutes and was greeted by the unfortunate sight of Justin Hammer holding a baby basket. Wait, a baby basket. Fuck. Fuck. No, surely not? It can’t be time for Armageddon so soon. He kept his internal panic off his face and allowed Hammer to speak first,
“Boss says it’s time, and you’ve got the honour of delivering the baby stark, you know with all your work you’ve been doing up ‘ere.” Hammers’ tone was lackluster and littered with sarcasm.
Curse his past, idiotic, self for lying about all those demonic deeds, Steve did warn it would catch up to him one day, but really Tony blames the system. Not his fault they don't check and well, he got to do whatever the fuck he pleased as long as he checked in and lied a little. Panic aside, he took the basket from the other and smirked as an attempt to not show his inner turmoil to Hammer.
“Hmm, Armageddon so soon?” Tony peeked inside the basket, the baby looked far too normal for the Antichrist.
“What. Not excited Stark? We’ve been waiting 6000 years to get revenge.” Hammer pointed out unhelpfully.
Tony knew if he was a good demon this would be momentous occasion. All he could think about was how Steve was going to be disappointed. Armageddon meant a world without the angel. Fuck. without replying Tony hoped back in the Audi and turned up the ACDC, popping the child in the passenger seat.
He knew this was not something even a miracle could prevent. He was to deliver the baby to the satanic nuns and then drowned his sorrows with a good bottle of wine.
After the demonic deed was done and Tony had delivered the child - the switch between the anti-christ and Alexander Pierce’s daughters baby, he headed to Steve’s art shop. He had to make his second delivery of the day; the daunting news that in eleven years the end of the world as they know it would be over. Fuck. Steve was going to be so upset.
Parking his Audi in his usual available spot by the store he let himself in and was met with the soft sight of Steve sketching by his desk, even 6000 years later, Tony wasn’t allowed to see what was in that oh so precious sketch book. The sound of his entrance alerted the angel immediately and he looked up at the demon with far too much love than he deserved.
“Hey Tony! Little later than usual today? The bots keep you busy?” Steve hummed.
Hell… Tony loved the way his name sounded in the angels voice. Dramatically throwing himself on the soft red couch adjacent to Steve’s work desk, Tony sighed.
“Angel… now might be a good time to get the best wine you have. I bring bad news.”
used to Tony’s usual dramatic antics, Steve chuckled,
“Oh, more bad than usual then my dear?”
Tony sighed again and removed his tinted red sunglasses revealing his tried snake like eyes to show steve just how serious he was.
“Steve. The anti-christ has been delivered. We have eleven years before the end of the world.”
Steve stood, fear on his face, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously,
“No… so soon?” he whispered in disbelief, “You’re sure?”
“Would I lie to you Angel? Am I sure? You ask, I’m the lucky demon who delivered him!” He threw his hands up in the air angrily.
For all his wonderfulness, Steve was also equally infuriating to Tony. It was easy for them to fall into arguments, easy for them to take their anger on the other because in the end they always came back no matter how many days, months or years passed by.
Deciding not to rise up to Tony's anger, and using a small angelic miracle Steve poured a glass of the finest Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru 1949. Wine he reserved for the bad days, and came to sit next to Tony, passing him his own glass and sighed worryingly.
“We’re fucked.” the demon muttered, and for once Steve didn't scold him on his language.