(A Fluffy-Funny Tony Stark Brand birthday Drabble for the anon who requested it.)
His morning started with a hangover, and a single, cold hand creeping across his chest.
“You, my darling butterfly—” Tony told him six times to stop calling him that, “—are an absolute idiot.”
“I love it when you whisper such sweet things into my ear at the ass-crack of dawn, Fro-Zone.”
Cold hands have sharp nails, and Loki was such a cat sometimes. Then again, Loki had told him to cut it out with the nicknames, too.
Hah, like that would ever happen.