HUD: I know, another distraction. Enjoy!

Life in the fast lane - that was always Tony's motto. He was enraptured by the song and even more by what it represented. It surely could make you lose your mind.

Granted all teens have the idea of immortality, and he was no exception. He was smart, a genius, but damn did he have a wild streak the length of forty football fields. It took quite a bit to bring Tony Stark to his knees, and even he wouldn't have guessed it would be death. No, not his father's death - someone much more special.

Tony had endured the ridicule of his age in high school and then university; the bullying and teasing made him who he is today, the genius and millionaire before he even turned twenty. He was dabbling in the fast life - flashy cars, sexy women, underage drinking and arrests that his lawyers would dissolve in a matter of seconds. Tony laughed, he always did, and treated it all with flair.

Until he met him.

Jet black hair and eyes the shade of the purest cut emerald, long legs for miles and the sharpest wit Tony had ever had the pleasure of encountering. He stalked like he commanded the room, and to command the attention of Tony Stark, well, he may as well have. Tony didn't bother thinking about the woman that had pressed herself against his chest - no, he casually dropped her into his old seat as he stood. He scooped up two glasses from a nearby tray and made his way to where the stranger had perched against one of Tony's marble statues. Tony loved how the man seemed to make the white statue pale in comparison.

"Hey," he said, purred, passing over his extra glass. The man didn't even blink, unfazed as he gingerly accepted the gift. "What brings you here?"

That smirk would be his undoing, Tony knew it immediately. "The view," the man answered. His voice was low and soft, commanding, and it held all of Tony's attention again (which was quite the feat). He nodded forward, over Tony's balcony and to the city beyond. "The lights of the fast life. Where I am from, there are no such things. Merely living."

Tony detected a hint of an accent that he would have placed to be Eastern Europe. "And where is that?"

"Ah, Mr. Stark - it shall take more than one drink for my secrets," he answered, smirking coyly. He held up his glass in a mock toast and knocked the entire scotch back in one go. Tony felt his jaw drop as the man placed his glass back in Tony's free lax hand. He may have winked, Tony still couldn't remember, but something beckoned for Tony to follow him to the balcony a few minutes later. After two fresh glasses, of course.

His name was Lance, and he was a smoker. Tony didn't mind him so much as he did other people smoking. Something about the way the tobacco made each kiss tingle seemed to distract him enough. But he didn't learn that from the first night, no. For all of Lance's coyness, he seemed to not want to get too close too fast.

Lance had ignored Tony's offer for a date not once, not twice, but five times before he agreed. In those five times, Tony had spent stupid amounts of cash on fresh lily bouquets that he made sure were waiting on Lance's desk each morning. He also had JARVIS keep up on the man's schedule, showing up just as lunch was about to start. Lance was a publisher, his life full of countless stories and gossip, and soon his nosy colleagues had convinced him to accept the offers.

Tony had never been more grateful.

They had been together for six months when it happened. Tony had never told anyone he loved them, even platonically. He was very withdrawn for all of his boldness, but something in Lance got to him and made him crack. He thought about it for days, once he realized it, trying to plan the perfect night. Tony wanted it to be wonderful, and it had been, even right up until it suddenly - wasn't.

There was a car, stranded in a ditch, just as Tony took the corner. He may have been driving a little too fast, but he always did and he never was reckless with Lance in the car. Never on purpose. The car was a variable he hadn't counted. The crash was loud, the sound of metal being ripped and torn and glass shattering and -

"Lance!" He sat up too quickly, and suddenly there were hands pushing him back down, telling him to lie still. "Shut the fuck up, I'm fine - Lance, where's Lance?!"

Tony pushed all the hands away and stood, snarling deeply. He felt something warm running down his face, making him stumble and stutter. After a quick wipe and check he knew it was blood, but even more alarming was the dried and dark blood under his fresh. It wasn't his, and he knew it.

"Lance!" Tony was seeing double, shoving emergency personnel as they came at him. There was a crowd for what felt like a mile away, but Tony knew what it was for as he barreled through. He felt his world crumbling as he fell to his knees.

"Oh, Lance..." He dropped a shaking hand to his love's forehead, ignoring the sickening feeling of his gorgeous hair matted with congealed blood. The pale man was even more so, and Tony suddenly felt like he was holding starlight - pale, beautiful, and fading. "I'm so sorry."

"Not - your...f-fault," Lance whispered, lips quirking in that smirk that made Tony's breath catch, even now. He was barely breathing, his chest spasming. Tony was shaking, struggling with wanting to touch and comfort but he knew it would do nothing.

"No, baby, no. I did this, I went too fast - "

"Stop." The strength in his voice really caught Tony. His blames died on his lips. He felt Lance's cool - too cold, far too cold - hand meet his cheek. There was so much blood, but even Tony couldn't tell where it ended and his own tears began. "'s...'kay..."

"No, Lance, you're... I'm gonna lose you, and I can't lose you, Lance, I can't. I - " Tony was ranting, which was a sure sign he was losing it. Lance could stop his rambling, he always did, but now Lance was bleeding out from a gash in his stomach from Tony's gearshift all over the broken pavement of some stupid side street that he should have never turned down -

"Shh," Lance whispered. His thumb was over Tony's lips, and suddenly the tears couldn't stop. "This is...not - it." His breath hitched, and he coughed. Tony was petting his head softly, doing anything to keep his fingers from trembling, as Lance leaned closer to his knees. Blood trickled down his chin when he looked back, and his lips were turning blue. Tony pushed back his hair and tried to smile.

"Of course not, babe. I'm here, always." His voice hitched, raising at the end, but he didn't care and Lance didn't mention it.

"Me...too," he whispered. His breathing was far too shallow, and his once vibrant emerald eyes were becoming glassy. "Always. Do not...change. We shall meet - again. I...promise." Around bound of coughing, and Tony's heart was torn a bit more, too. He nodded vehemently.

"Yes, yes, of course," he whispered, smiling. It was humorless, but he felt crazy enough to believe it. When someone's entire world is crumbling right before their very eyes, with each breath, Tony figured some craziness was allowed.

"Kiss me?" Tony almost missed it. It was breathy, low, and almost the same voice from when Lance had mentioned the view from Tony's party. That felt so long ago...

"Always." Tony was shaking, but Lance was smiling. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Lance's chapped, bloody, cold ones. He could taste copper instead of tobacco, and he wanted to cry harder. Tony felt his heart being pulled out from his throat.

They pressed together softly, Lance moving slowly below him, and Tony felt the world fall out. All noise, feeling, and warmth left as he grew slower and slower. Still Tony held fast, refusing to let go, even long after Lance stopped breathing and his lips were chilled.

"I love you," Tony whispered. He said it, but not at all how he had planned to.

Years later, Tony Stark wasn't the same. Nights were spent sleepless in his lab, not by choice of groundbreaking discoveries, but by dreams of what could have been, who he could have been. His recklessness lost him his love, and all he had left was their last kiss. It was morbidly sweet, and he savored the fact that he was the last feeling Lance would ever have of this world. He loved him so much, but yet he was the reason he wasn't here.

Lance was what helped Tony through Afghanistan. He wanted to live, to stop the Ten Rings and whoever the fuck had sold his ass, but he also didn't want to. Dying would have been easy, sure, but it also would have brought him to Lance. It had been a harsh ten years, and Tony was almost ready for it to end.

But he lived, and escaped, and he wasn't sure why. It was even funnier when Pepper had sealed his prototype arc reactor, engraved, claiming he did have a heart. Oh he did, and it was lying in a white marble casket on a high hill six feet under. Funny as in ironic, of course. Pepper knew about Lance, having to keep Tony from killing himself for the entire first five years, and she was the best friend he could ever ask for. Almost.

He almost had given up hope again, drowning on booze and palladium poisoning still coursing through his veins, when Fury came to him. The Avengers, but he was too self-destructive to be a real part of it. Lance would want him to work on it, so he did.

And dammit did it work out wonderfully.

Five years more, when he met Captain America, Bruce Banner, Hawkeye, Black Widow, and Thor, he felt alive again. When he saw who they were up against, well, his world shattered again, too.

Jet black hair and eyes the shade of the purest cut emerald, long legs and wit still as sharp as Tony remembered. He was going crazy. It was fifteen years later, and he was finally crazy. Tony was staring across the helicraft into the eyes of Lance, his dead boyfriend. But he wasn't dead, his guts were firmly in his belly, and he wasn't Lance. Tony was sure he was, though.

"You're...alive," he breathed. His breath was caught in his throat as his eyes pricked with tears. "I saw you die, I held you, but you're here."

The man smirked, and he was Lance again. "I am afraid I don't know what you are talking about."

"No, you do," Tony said. He fumbled with his straps, fingers shaking even in the suit. He was free and falling forward, his palms splayed out on the man's knees. Tony felt Steve's hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it away. "You promised me we would be together again, and here you are. Shit, you don't look a day over twenty."

He was laughing, his head tossed back against the metal of the relentless seats. "And you are just as clever as always."

Tony was smiling, the brightest he had in years. He felt hands around his shoulders again as he fumbled with the man's restraints. Fifteen years, dammit, and he wasn't about to keep him cuffed and away from him. The second the metal clanked against the floor Tony surged forward. He didn't care about the suit being between them, no - he could still feel Lance's cool embrace. Although, he wasn't Lance anymore. He was Loki. But that didn't matter, nothing did, except Tony being in the arms of the man he loved and had lost.

Later, much later, after Loki helped stop his own attempted takeover, he explained. He was a god from the realm of Asgard. His adoptive father, the king, had seen it fit to punish him for some prank. He was deemed to live the life of a mortal for two decades, and his sentence was up that night.

Tony hadn't killed him, and Loki knew it. He had made a promise, and despite all the cheating and thrill-seeking Thor had claimed Loki was known for, his word was even stronger. They would be together, and Loki had to seek Tony out the best way he knew how - chaotically.

They sat languidly in Tony's once too big bed, Loki free of any guilt by stopping the invasion. It had been a long reunion, and now they lay curled together. Tony traced small designs on the back of Loki's hand with his thumb.

"I almost killed myself," he whispered. His forehead was pressed to Loki's bare shoulder. "More times than I can remember."

"But you are stronger than that, I see," Loki said. He smirked and pulled away to catch Tony's eyes. "I believe I shall take full credit by keeping you breathing with my promise."

Tony chuckled. "You may. I won't deny that you did. Everything I've done has been for you. I knew I would see you again, in this world or the next, but I was hoping for sooner. I didn't want you to see me as some fucking bum or whatever."

Loki's laugh made heat swell in Tony's chest and made the usual weight of the arc reactor disappear. He leaned up to capture Loki's lips in a searing kiss, happily swallowing his laughter. They pulled away, breathless, and Tony lost himself again in those emerald eyes. All over again.

"I love you," he breathed, before he could stop. "I was going to tell you that night, when I took you home. I was going to tell you and have you move in with me. I guess I'm fifteen years late, but the offer still stands."

Loki smiled softly, nuzzling against Tony's cheek. "I accept. However, know this, Anthony Edward Stark - " his tone had all of Tony's attention, again, as if it could warrant any less, " - you will not leave my side again. You are mine, forever."

"Always," Tony breathed, capturing his lips again. Loki pressed back just as hotly, and Tony briefly wondered if he was signing his life away. He didn't care, though. All he had ever wanted was this man, and he would do all he could to keep him.

Loki fell against the mattress, pulling Tony with him with a firm hand on his neck. Tony shifted the covers around them and pressed entirely down, from knee to chest. He swallowed his and Loki's moan.

"I love you," Tony said again. Loki pulled back a moment, tracing the lines of Tony's goatee and whatever new lines came from age that he found. The action was still endearing, even hundreds of years later after most of his wrinkles healed from whatever elixir Loki had given him to live, well, forever. He wasn't kidding when he made promises.

"I know," he answered, smiling, and Tony knew this wouldn't ever end. They would never again have a last kiss.