Meet Ugly #71 - Bookstore Blackmail (Loki/Tony Stark - 1.7k words)
2019-Jan-16, Wednesday 01:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
felicitygsyou’re famous and you want to hide out in my bookstore which is fine except the stupid paparazzi won’t leave and now there’s a photo of us in the tabloids and they’re printing misinformation and why the fuck won’t you clear this up on your twitter account - Meet Ugly #71
It is a quiet day.
If Loki's honest, nearly every day at work is a quiet day for him--spent filling online orders and carefully mailing off the books, the ticking of the clock interrupted rarely by the ringing of the phone, and even more rarely by the front bell ringing.
LaFey's Rare Books has never been the most happening of bookstores, and Loki wouldn't have it any other way. Surrounded mostly by banks and offices, on a very quiet street, the only people who arrive usually know exactly what they're looking for.
Which is why the current customer is a problem.
"Sir," Loki says, attempting to keep his annoyance out of his voice.
The 'sir' in question is Tony Stark. Loki recognized him almost immediately, despite the scarf and giant sunglasses and baseball cap; he ducked in nearly an hour ago, and ever since then Stark has been inside while just across the street (practically camping) have been a small horde of paparazzi. Loki's not entirely sure why Tony Stark isn't in one of his fancy cars, nor does he car; he just wants him gone, because it's become extremely apparent that he's not going to buy anything and Loki has online orders he'd like to take care of and can't while he needs to make sure Stark (unlikely as it is) does not make off with any of the merchandise.
"Yeah sorry. Hey, is this a first edition Winnie the Pooh?"
"It is. Do you want to buy it?"
"Nah."
"Then I'll have to ask you to leave. You can take the back door, if you like."
Stark looks past Loki's shoulder and out the window. Loki has no doubt what (who) he's looking at, but he really must insist. He's not some safe harbor in a storm, to start, and whatever reason brought Stark here is besides the point.
"Look," Stark starts, putting a hand on Loki's shoulder, but Loki refuses to be charmed by doe brown eyes currently pleading with him.
"Buy something or get out," Loki says, pointing at the sign on the front desk--No Loitering.
"I can pay you."
"I really don't think they're going anywhere, even if you do wait here. And I close in three hours."
"...I guess that's fair."
"So you'll leave?"
"I mean--"
"Oh my god," Loki says, then he grabs Stark by the arm and starts to drag him towards the back door and away from the front display window. "I need you to leave, I have work to do that I can't do while babysitting you!"
"Hey hey, let go, I'll go, I'll go!"
"Good."
They stare at each other for another long moment, right by the back door.
"You're a jerk, you know that?" Stark complains, rubbing his arm; a drama queen, because Loki knows he didn't grip that hard.
"Yes," Loki says, and opens the door for him. "Out."
"Fine," Stark says, and then he leaves and Loki sighs relief as he closes the door, locking it once again.
Finally.
***
"I didn't know you're dating Tony Stark," are the very first words out of his mother's mouth the next day, before Loki even has time to tell her about his rather absurd encounter.
"Wha--I'm not, why do you think I am?"
"Well, I saw in the Daily Sun--"
"I've told you not to read that, it's trash--"
"--that you two make a very cute couple, and you're very close. You almost look like you could be kissing."
"What?"
"It says here you've been having a secret affair, and Stark sometimes sneaks over when he needs to see his hidden paramour." His mother sounds delighted, and then, a moment later, put out: "Even if it's secret, I don't know why you hadn't told me."
"Because you read the--what was it?"
"The Daily Sun," she says helpfully.
"I need to see this. Do you still have your copy?"
"Oh yes, I haven't thrown it out. Does that mean you're coming by for lunch?"
"I'll be over in half an hour," Loki says darkly. "And we're not dating."
"Oh. Well--"
"I'll see you soon, mother." Loki hangs up before she can say more.
On the one hand, he wishes she would stop reading tabloids. On the other, he's not sure he'd have ever found out about this otherwise.
***
That's him, all over the cover of his mother's trash tabloid. Loki immediately knows when the photo was snapped--right when he was insisting Stark either buy something or get the hell out of his store, when Loki's back was to the window and, of course, the prime moment to spin into some illicit, under-the-table love affair.
"We are not dating," Loki repeats for his mother, again, because even though he's explained what actually happened, he's still fairly certain that she doesn't wholly believe him.
"Well," she says, and see?
"Look, I'm sure he'll properly clear it up and this will all blow over in a few days."
"Mmm, I hope so. He has that Twitter, but I haven't see anything on it."
"Not yet," Loki says. "But he will."
***
Except, Stark doesn't.
Except, more and more of these stupid tabloids are picking it up, and now semi-respectable ones more than just his mother read are starting to pick up the story.
And, worst of all, people are showing up at his bookstore.
After the fifth customer in as many hours on Thursday, Loki calls Sif.
"I need a favour," he starts, before she can hang up on him.
"...go on."
"I need Stark's personal number."
There's silence on the other end of the line for a very long time; Loki doesn't break, though he does check that the call hasn't been disconnected as quietly as possible. Once.
"I want that Winnie the Pooh book I'm missing," Sif finally says.
That's money Loki could make on a sale, but...
Well, he can't keep going with people actually visiting his store.
"Done," he says.
"Alright."
Three hours later, she texts him. It's just a number, but Loki knows who's it is. He goes and pulls the required book off the shelf, and sends her a picture of it, piece of paper on top indicating that it's been set aside. She'll be by when she can; for now, Loki has a phone call to make.
***
"Okay, first of all, who is this, second, how'd you get this number?"
"The bookseller everyone thinks you're having a secret romance with," Loki says with as much ice as he can manage. He doesn't bother answering the second question.
He's expecting awkwardness, or maybe a little guilt. He's not expecting--"Ooooh, you" with the clear grin that must be on the other end of the phone. "How's it going?"
"It's awful, people keep coming to my store, my own mother thinks we're dating, and you haven't actually denied any of it." Somehow, Stark's cheer has just managed to sour his mood more.
"Oh. Well. I mean, all of this could have been avoided if you'd have just--"
"I have six phone messages from various news outlets asking for an interview, and if you do not admit in public that we aren't dating, I'm going to take every single one of them and say you can only get off when being fucked by a dog," Loki says, as calmly as he can manage, stomach churning and back of his throat burning with bile.
"Oh, wow. That's kind of intense. And you think that'd work because...?"
"Obviously if you try to deny it after I give the interviews, it confirms everything I said," Loki says. "We both know how tabloids work. There'd be an investigation and everything."
"Well, the legal red tape is maybe a bit of a hassle, yeah."
"So?" Loki drums his fingers on the desktop, glaring at the front door of his shop where the sign currently hangs Closed.
"We look pretty cute in those pictures."
"I am absolutely not kidding," Loki says, still calm.
"Okay, okay. I'll tweet something about it."
"You've got twenty-four hours, starting now," Loki says.
"Sheesh," Stark says, and then he hangs up the phone.
Loki sets his own phone down as calmly as he can, and then grabs one of the 2B pencils from the jar on the desk and snaps it cleanly in half. He does that with the rest of the jar, until he has a little pile of broken wood and graphite, and then neatly pushes it all into the trash can. He uses a tissue to wipe up the other bits on his desk, takes a deep breath, and then starts to check Twitter.
***
Done. The text arrives with a link to Stark's twitter. Loki clicks immediately; it's not much, but it's something, and it should smother the story from extending beyond the tabloids.
A few minutes later, he starts getting follow up emails from the news outlets, retracting their offers for interviews.
Good. Loki pauses, and then adds, Thank you
He leaves his phone to go back to prepping dinner ingredients, and notices nearly half an hour later when he sits down to eat that he has a new message.
We did look pretty cute together, though.
Are you going to keep pestering me now that this is all over?
Maybe.
Loki sighs, though he knows Stark can't hear it. Maybe being a celebrity means being treated like a not-famous person mean something, like straight guys seem to think a smile means a woman likes them.
Look, Loki replies, I'm not interested in getting any actual spotlight, nor was I attempting to woo you by throwing you out for loitering in my shop.
I promise there won't be any paparazzi this time ;)
Loki stares at the text, a little disbelieving, then shakes his head and puts his phone down.
But he keeps thinking about it, all through dinner and then washing dishes and getting ready for sleep. He hates that he keeps thinking about it, or how nice Tony's doe brown eyes were. And, well, it would be neat to be able to say he went on a date with Tony Stark. One. Singular.
Just before he goes to bed, as he's about to drop firmly into sleep, he messages Stark back.
Sure
It is a quiet day.
If Loki's honest, nearly every day at work is a quiet day for him--spent filling online orders and carefully mailing off the books, the ticking of the clock interrupted rarely by the ringing of the phone, and even more rarely by the front bell ringing.
LaFey's Rare Books has never been the most happening of bookstores, and Loki wouldn't have it any other way. Surrounded mostly by banks and offices, on a very quiet street, the only people who arrive usually know exactly what they're looking for.
Which is why the current customer is a problem.
"Sir," Loki says, attempting to keep his annoyance out of his voice.
The 'sir' in question is Tony Stark. Loki recognized him almost immediately, despite the scarf and giant sunglasses and baseball cap; he ducked in nearly an hour ago, and ever since then Stark has been inside while just across the street (practically camping) have been a small horde of paparazzi. Loki's not entirely sure why Tony Stark isn't in one of his fancy cars, nor does he car; he just wants him gone, because it's become extremely apparent that he's not going to buy anything and Loki has online orders he'd like to take care of and can't while he needs to make sure Stark (unlikely as it is) does not make off with any of the merchandise.
"Yeah sorry. Hey, is this a first edition Winnie the Pooh?"
"It is. Do you want to buy it?"
"Nah."
"Then I'll have to ask you to leave. You can take the back door, if you like."
Stark looks past Loki's shoulder and out the window. Loki has no doubt what (who) he's looking at, but he really must insist. He's not some safe harbor in a storm, to start, and whatever reason brought Stark here is besides the point.
"Look," Stark starts, putting a hand on Loki's shoulder, but Loki refuses to be charmed by doe brown eyes currently pleading with him.
"Buy something or get out," Loki says, pointing at the sign on the front desk--No Loitering.
"I can pay you."
"I really don't think they're going anywhere, even if you do wait here. And I close in three hours."
"...I guess that's fair."
"So you'll leave?"
"I mean--"
"Oh my god," Loki says, then he grabs Stark by the arm and starts to drag him towards the back door and away from the front display window. "I need you to leave, I have work to do that I can't do while babysitting you!"
"Hey hey, let go, I'll go, I'll go!"
"Good."
They stare at each other for another long moment, right by the back door.
"You're a jerk, you know that?" Stark complains, rubbing his arm; a drama queen, because Loki knows he didn't grip that hard.
"Yes," Loki says, and opens the door for him. "Out."
"Fine," Stark says, and then he leaves and Loki sighs relief as he closes the door, locking it once again.
Finally.
"I didn't know you're dating Tony Stark," are the very first words out of his mother's mouth the next day, before Loki even has time to tell her about his rather absurd encounter.
"Wha--I'm not, why do you think I am?"
"Well, I saw in the Daily Sun--"
"I've told you not to read that, it's trash--"
"--that you two make a very cute couple, and you're very close. You almost look like you could be kissing."
"What?"
"It says here you've been having a secret affair, and Stark sometimes sneaks over when he needs to see his hidden paramour." His mother sounds delighted, and then, a moment later, put out: "Even if it's secret, I don't know why you hadn't told me."
"Because you read the--what was it?"
"The Daily Sun," she says helpfully.
"I need to see this. Do you still have your copy?"
"Oh yes, I haven't thrown it out. Does that mean you're coming by for lunch?"
"I'll be over in half an hour," Loki says darkly. "And we're not dating."
"Oh. Well--"
"I'll see you soon, mother." Loki hangs up before she can say more.
On the one hand, he wishes she would stop reading tabloids. On the other, he's not sure he'd have ever found out about this otherwise.
That's him, all over the cover of his mother's trash tabloid. Loki immediately knows when the photo was snapped--right when he was insisting Stark either buy something or get the hell out of his store, when Loki's back was to the window and, of course, the prime moment to spin into some illicit, under-the-table love affair.
"We are not dating," Loki repeats for his mother, again, because even though he's explained what actually happened, he's still fairly certain that she doesn't wholly believe him.
"Well," she says, and see?
"Look, I'm sure he'll properly clear it up and this will all blow over in a few days."
"Mmm, I hope so. He has that Twitter, but I haven't see anything on it."
"Not yet," Loki says. "But he will."
Except, Stark doesn't.
Except, more and more of these stupid tabloids are picking it up, and now semi-respectable ones more than just his mother read are starting to pick up the story.
And, worst of all, people are showing up at his bookstore.
After the fifth customer in as many hours on Thursday, Loki calls Sif.
"I need a favour," he starts, before she can hang up on him.
"...go on."
"I need Stark's personal number."
There's silence on the other end of the line for a very long time; Loki doesn't break, though he does check that the call hasn't been disconnected as quietly as possible. Once.
"I want that Winnie the Pooh book I'm missing," Sif finally says.
That's money Loki could make on a sale, but...
Well, he can't keep going with people actually visiting his store.
"Done," he says.
"Alright."
Three hours later, she texts him. It's just a number, but Loki knows who's it is. He goes and pulls the required book off the shelf, and sends her a picture of it, piece of paper on top indicating that it's been set aside. She'll be by when she can; for now, Loki has a phone call to make.
"Okay, first of all, who is this, second, how'd you get this number?"
"The bookseller everyone thinks you're having a secret romance with," Loki says with as much ice as he can manage. He doesn't bother answering the second question.
He's expecting awkwardness, or maybe a little guilt. He's not expecting--"Ooooh, you" with the clear grin that must be on the other end of the phone. "How's it going?"
"It's awful, people keep coming to my store, my own mother thinks we're dating, and you haven't actually denied any of it." Somehow, Stark's cheer has just managed to sour his mood more.
"Oh. Well. I mean, all of this could have been avoided if you'd have just--"
"I have six phone messages from various news outlets asking for an interview, and if you do not admit in public that we aren't dating, I'm going to take every single one of them and say you can only get off when being fucked by a dog," Loki says, as calmly as he can manage, stomach churning and back of his throat burning with bile.
"Oh, wow. That's kind of intense. And you think that'd work because...?"
"Obviously if you try to deny it after I give the interviews, it confirms everything I said," Loki says. "We both know how tabloids work. There'd be an investigation and everything."
"Well, the legal red tape is maybe a bit of a hassle, yeah."
"So?" Loki drums his fingers on the desktop, glaring at the front door of his shop where the sign currently hangs Closed.
"We look pretty cute in those pictures."
"I am absolutely not kidding," Loki says, still calm.
"Okay, okay. I'll tweet something about it."
"You've got twenty-four hours, starting now," Loki says.
"Sheesh," Stark says, and then he hangs up the phone.
Loki sets his own phone down as calmly as he can, and then grabs one of the 2B pencils from the jar on the desk and snaps it cleanly in half. He does that with the rest of the jar, until he has a little pile of broken wood and graphite, and then neatly pushes it all into the trash can. He uses a tissue to wipe up the other bits on his desk, takes a deep breath, and then starts to check Twitter.
Done. The text arrives with a link to Stark's twitter. Loki clicks immediately; it's not much, but it's something, and it should smother the story from extending beyond the tabloids.
A few minutes later, he starts getting follow up emails from the news outlets, retracting their offers for interviews.
Good. Loki pauses, and then adds, Thank you
He leaves his phone to go back to prepping dinner ingredients, and notices nearly half an hour later when he sits down to eat that he has a new message.
We did look pretty cute together, though.
Are you going to keep pestering me now that this is all over?
Maybe.
Loki sighs, though he knows Stark can't hear it. Maybe being a celebrity means being treated like a not-famous person mean something, like straight guys seem to think a smile means a woman likes them.
Look, Loki replies, I'm not interested in getting any actual spotlight, nor was I attempting to woo you by throwing you out for loitering in my shop.
I promise there won't be any paparazzi this time ;)
Loki stares at the text, a little disbelieving, then shakes his head and puts his phone down.
But he keeps thinking about it, all through dinner and then washing dishes and getting ready for sleep. He hates that he keeps thinking about it, or how nice Tony's doe brown eyes were. And, well, it would be neat to be able to say he went on a date with Tony Stark. One. Singular.
Just before he goes to bed, as he's about to drop firmly into sleep, he messages Stark back.
Sure
(no subject)
Date: 2019-01-16 12:42 pm (UTC)I love that Tony is the one blackmailed but Loki is the one who ends up roped into something he didn't sign up for xD
(no subject)
Date: 2019-01-17 02:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-01-17 03:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-01-16 02:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-01-17 02:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-01-17 02:11 am (UTC)"Yes," Loki says, and opens the door for him. "Out."
HEEEEEEEEEEE. I love the bickering.
"I have six phone messages from various news outlets asking for an interview, and if you do not admit in public that we aren't dating, I'm going to take every single one of them and say you can only get off when being fucked by a dog."
*busts a gut laughing*
(no subject)
Date: 2019-01-17 02:48 am (UTC)