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[You know, for a minute there this was going to be an awesome team building exercise. Taking Loki out - again - and corrupting an American icon with hate and lying and trickery? Yeah. It was going to be awesome. But then Steve had to have some kind of really annoying morality crisis and you know what? Screw that. He was already halfway up to Charles' room when Steve started talking about. Telling him to wait- Why would he wait? They had a plan, and he was sticking to it. Unlike some jerkwad team leader.

So, he takes a swig of scotch from the flask he'd made for himself during some downtime in the maintenance room. Just quickly hammered out metal, sealed up tight and a little dented but hey. It worked. And as disgusting as scotch normally was warm, Tony just didn't taste it anymore. Either way, he'd need it to try and come off as charming and nonchalant as possible when he got to-

Oh. Hey. Charles' door.

He shoves the flask back clumsily into his back pocket before knocking on Charles' door. At the very least, he has had way too much practice at enunciating while drunk off his ass.]

Hey. Sweetcakes. Surprise maintenance call.

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[Hangovers were literally the worst. Well. From a normal person's standpoint. From Tony's they were third on his list of the worst and most painful things. Topping that list was, in the number two spot, dying of palladium poisoning and two, waking up in a cave with no painkillers and a giant hole carved in your chest.

Then again, he's still not really in hangover land yet. The nap he'd taken had gotten rid of the worst of his drunken rage, and he only has a slight headache, underneath the bubble of leftover drunk that was still clouding his mind.

But oh, it was there. Lurking in the distance. A miserable experience that would literally feel like his head is being ripped apart and stitched back together a hundred times over. But for now? He's just screwing up his face as he listens to Charles, as his mind lazily struggles to keep focused on what he's actually saying.]

Yeah, okay. Sure tha- wait. No, no, wait. What? [He's still squinting against the lights in the room, still looking at Charles incredulously.] Why Zero- I didn't do anything. Just. Slap on the wrist, send me to bed. Don't you need that space for... actual murderers?

[Nope, Sorry Charles, this is one Tony Stark trying to push himself up and off of the table, wobbling and flopping back down before he can even get halfway up, cracking his head slightly on the surface with a hiss, wince, and... giggles as he reaches a hand up to rub at the spot.]

Je suis désolé, mon ami~ [French, said with a wave of his hand that's really distracting him for a moment.] Think I'll just.. sleep here. 'Kay?

N'avait pas votre mère vous apprendre à ne jamais faire des excuses quand vous n'êtes pas désolé? [Erik pushed the art room door open without touching it, surveying the damage with a long sweep of his eyes before settling on Tony.]

Why don't we stick to English, until you can actually talk?

[He wasn't sure when he started grinning, exactly, but he could feel it, lips pulled back and white teeth flashing. He was terribly amused to find Tony in this situation.

Or really, any remotely embarrassing situation. He isn't picky.

Glancing toward Charles, he arched his eyebrows beneath the helmet, knowing that Charles would prefer less antagonizing; the look he gave his friend was very much a 'what did you expect' look, before he turned back to Tony.]

Go on, get up. [He missed the falling over, but he can guess, from the way Tony's rubbing his head, and yup he wants to see Stark falling over himself.]

[It's like the cold hand of death just reached out and caressed him. As if every drop of blood in his body just froze solid, that burning kind of cold that stops your thoughts and sends shivers down your spine. The kind that has his eyes wide and focused in on the one thing in the room that suddenly even matters.

That. Grin.

Lips spread almost unnaturally wide, teeth pearly white and far too large, clenched together in that terrifying, menacing way. It's like looking into the depths of Hell itself. And for a moment, Tony knows what those poor suckers in the fifty Jaws movies felt, staring straight into the jaws of that shark he spent weeks crying over and sending angry letters about. After all, he could build a more convincing one in his sleep.

And maybe that's why, after he blinks and listens to the French, the English, tries to pick out the meanings of the words, that the fear is really hitting him. That he's suddenly swearing in a mix of languages - English, French, Spanish, Italian, Dhari, because screw you he's Tony Stark - and scrambling backwards, sliding and pushing himself off the table, rolling as he hits the other edge, ducking under and peeking up over the side, just a pair of narrowed eyes, wild hair, and fingers clutching the edge.]

You're not getting me this time, Jaws. I'm not in the fucking water. [Is all he's hissing out, as threatening and dangerous as he can make it - spoilers: it's really not that threatening - before he starts singing a quiet but intense rendition of the Jaws Theme.

A nice little chorus of DA NA DA NA DA NA DANADANADANADANA DANANAAAAAAAAAAA.]

[Charles' first thought was, honestly, that Tony had lost his mind.

He'd been about to tell of Erik a little, since he'd called him down here to help, not taunt Tony (although, really, he hadn't expected anything else, and maybe there was a slightly vindictive part of himself that didn't mind, considering how the evening had played out), and had intended to put Tony to sleep to make sure this didn't escalate any further when... that. Happened.

Unfortunately for Tony, it was another thirteen years before Jaws was released in theaters for Charles and Erik, and as such, he had absolutely no idea what he was doing or referencing as he pushed himself off the table and peeked back over at them, and he really did look a little deranged peering over the edge and hissing something that - apparently - had to do with sharks.]

I think he's gone mad. [he directed quietly at Erik, before just staring at Tony. There are no words, Mr. Stark.]

What are you singing?

[ Some of the smile slipped, replaced by no small amount of confusion. Glancing at Charles only briefly, Erik let his gaze settle back on Tony for a long moment. What the hell was this? And better yet, what sort of grown man made such a fool of himself like that? ]

I'm quite certain of it, [ he said dryly, and as the chorus went on, it wore at Erik's bewilderment. And his patience.

The absurd look on his face faded into an unimpressed on, and he reached around the table, grabbing for Stark's arm. ] Whatever it is, I think I've had quite enough of it.

[Good, you look less like a marine serial killer when you don't smile. God no wonder people wanted you to go through life miserable, Erik.

You're a fucking shark.

It's the fuel of nightmares and emotional trauma.]

Y'don- [... Okay no] Fuck that, you don't know Jaws? [He is so going to expose your asses to fine cinema, even if he hates you on principle, Lensherr.]

S'Jaws! DA NA DA NA, you know. The shark, the goddamn- no, hold on. Year... year, year. '75. You from '75?

God I'm sick of this past bullshit.

[Oh no, he sees you going for his arm, Erik. Which is why Tony is literally lurching himself away from you, actually trying to slap your hand away in his attempted scramble.]

Back off, shark face. No touchie.

[He was picking up on images now, and, well. Alright, apparently it was a film, but the more important part right now is waving Erik off briefly, bringing his other hand to his temple again.]

We're from '62. And I think you need to go to sleep, Mr. Stark.

[And, sorry Tony, your eyes are going to be rolling up in your head as you take a trip off to la la land without Erik and Charles. The telepath lowers his hand again and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, glancing back at Erik.]

Sorry. I thought this might be for the best. [In the interest of you not murdering Tony and all. :V]

[ Erik was still just staring at Tony, largely bewildered. The attempt to slap his hand was avoided (but still an annoyance, because he is hypocrite enough to think that he has every right to grab Tony, but Tony has no right to touch him), and he stood back, half lifting his hand with the intention to manipulate the magnetic fields around Tony - but Charles got there first. He didn't wait to see if Tony was completely out before speaking.]

How on Earth do you put up with him? It's as if he never shuts up.

[Charles, honestly, didn't know. Most of the time, Tony was someone who - while intensely aggravating on the best of days - Charles could easily see the potential for good in, but tonight, his patience had really run out. He knew he needed to keep it under control and get over it so he could go back to focusing on the good things, but right now he was just tired and disappointed and needed a damn drink.

Still, he shrugged, trying to smooth out his expression.]

It's not always about sharks. [And he forced himself to grin a little, glancing over at Erik.] Besides, I put up with you, don't I? [And, forced normalcy established via teasing, he looked back at Tony.]

Come on, we should get him to Zero so Ariadne can clean the place.

[ Erik pressed his lips into a thin line at that, squaring his jaw enough to make the vaguest of faces at Charles (because he was a grown man and did not just make faces). ]

Very funny.

[ He stretches out his hand fully this time, and Tony lifts off the ground as the magnetic fields around him contort. ]

You know, now that he's silent, this may be one of the better moments I've experienced on this God forsaken ship.

[Charles was about three seconds from telling him to put him down before realizing Erik was using the magnetic fields and not dragging him up by the arc reactor and shrapnel in his chest, and he mentally swore at the helmet again, for not being able to just sense the intention.

So he just sighed and rubbed at his temple, grimacing, before turning to leave the art room.]

I've had better days.

[Come on Charles, where's a bit of that infinite faith you have in people? Glancing back at Charles, Erik floated Tony in front of them as the entered the corridor, letting his head loll forward.]

Are you going to tell me what the hell happened, now?

[It's momentarily bruised because Tony. :| Also after you've played hide the arc reactor once, it's hard for that not to be the immediate concern when the two of you run into each other.]

Mr. Stark- [And almost as if on cue, Tony let out an impressive snore, apparently determined to be annoying even while unconscious. Charles swallowed a frustrated sigh.] Has apparently been drunk for the better part of the last three weeks. We had an argument about what constitutes acceptable adult behavior on the Barge in reference to him trying to settle a score from back home, he left and I got a call from Ariadne saying he'd destroyed the art room and needed someone to come pick him up.

[It's a fun game okay, everybody enjoys it. Rolling his eyes at the snore, Erik shifted his hand and let that jostle Tony, his head flopping backwards. Erik was perfectly all right with the idea of Stark waking up with a crick in his neck.]

Three weeks. [There's disgust in his voice; really, Tony, he just thinks that's pathetic.] It's a wonder his liver's survived.

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spam} for Wheels McGee

I'm too good for everyone \o/ YEEEEAAAA

forgive the google translate French, it's been too long /o\

lmfao you say that as if I ACTUALLY SPEAK FRENCH 8'D

I love everyone in this bar. jsyk.

drinks for everyone.

PUT IT ON TONY'S TAB! Except Erik. Erik can fuck off.

But :C

fuck you Tony you don't get a tab anymore >(

that is also true

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