Chapter 7
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(2.4m)abny
The Iron Man suit was safely ensconced in its container. The three tired but Shawarma sated superheroes caught a stray taxi and returned to Avenger Tower. Tony tipped the cabbie generously. Together they entered the busy tower lobby. As they reached the private elevator, one of the receptionists hailed them. She trotted towards them, her heels clicking on the marble floors, waving an envelope. “Dr. Banner, your letter’s arrived.” Bruce walked over to her, smiling and took the creased letter.
“Thank you Camilla.” Bruce said carefully taking the crinkled envelope. He smoothed it against his chest.
“You’re welcome!” Camilla gushed, fidgeting with the sleeve at her wrist. She nodded politely to Tony and turned to head back to her desk. Tony looked after her, and then at Bruce, the letter, and then his gaze traveled back to the receptionist curiously.
“How do you know Camilla? And who writes letters anymore anyways?” Tony asked, distractedly. Bruce rolled his eyes briefly.
“I have visited the lobby at least a few times in the past two months, Tony. And if you must know…”
“I must, I must.” Tony insisted playfully.
“The letter is from Steve.” Bruce informed him in exasperation after they entered the elevator. Tony looked up in surprise.
“Steve? As in Rogers? The Captain America has been writing you letters? Why? Doesn’t he know how to email? The poor guy needs an upgrade; he must still think it’s the dark ages! Ugh, letters.” Tony said in disgust while shaking his head. Clint chimed in.
“He’s been writing me and Natasha too actually. I still have no idea how he managed to get the things delivered to me on the Helicarrier, but then I have no idea how I got your invite to the tower…” Clint wondered, sending a considering look at Tony.
“Pepper and I are in the process of negotiating the ownership of the United States Postal Service, and that explains everything from my end. As for Cap, he probably uses messenger pigeons or something equally prehistoric. But that’s not the subject at hand-you guys have been getting letters from Rogers!?” Tony questioned.
“I don’t know about Clint, but I’ve been communicating with him since the invasion.” Bruce said.
“Me and Nat too.” Clint added.
“And what does the mighty Captain write about?” Tony asked.
“Nothing much really, just how his day’s been, the places he sees, the people he meets, that sort of thing.” Bruce listed with an apologetic shrug.
“And you bother reading that?” Tony sneered. Clint frowned.
“Not everyone is a two dimensional, shallow asshole. Maybe that’s why Steve doesn’t write you.” Clint said. Bruce threw a green death glare in Clint’s direction. Clint ducked his head. Tony missed the interplay as he put a hand up to where his Arc reactor used to rest, in mock hurt.
“Ouch, you wound me Barton. So you guys respond to his letters then?” Tony continued conversationally.
“Yeah.” Clint said.
“It would be rude not to.” Bruce said ruefully, his eyes back to their normal hue. Tony didn’t ask what they wrote to Rogers, it wasn’t his business. And contrary to popular opinion he did know where to draw the line. The others left for their flats and he got off at his workshop. He staggered to his wall of wine coolers and picked out a good year. Well all the year’s he had were good, but this one was particularly fine. He settled at his desk and popped the cork, pouring the dark red in a carafe to breathe for a few minutes. DUM-E rolled up to him wanting attention. Tony patted his strut absentmindedly. He was not insulted and hurt about not getting any letters from the great and powerful Steve Rogers. Because that would be childish, which he wasn’t, and he wasn’t a part of the team anyways, so it didn’t matter really. It didn’t. He decided to take a shower, have a panic attack and then drink until he stopped seeing the dark void of the portal haunting his minds eye, not necessarily in that order, Tony thought, as he began brutally chugging the cabernet.
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“Nick Fury is calling for you Sir.” Tony Stark lay on the floor under his metal worktable, leaning against a table leg. He held a tablet in his hands, as he absently worked on designing some acid arrows for Clint. A half full bottle of pinot noir rested between his knees. At JARVIS’ voice, he waved in the general direction of the ceiling.
“Fan-tastic! Put him through J, no visual.” Tony said vaguely. Fury’s voice echoed in the spacious workshop.
“Stark!” Fury barked.
“Nicky, darling, how are you? Any new evil plots afoot lately? Mayhaps a call to assemble to fight malicious man-eating marshmallows from outerspace? I really hope this isn’t a social call, cause I’m soooo not up for that, I’d rather face man-eating marshmallows.” Tony said owlishly, as he tiredly reached up to place the Starkpad on the table above him.
“You drunk?” Fury asked gruffly.
“Working on it.” Tony replied with a bitter smirk, tipping the wine bottle back to his mouth. Tony was an accomplished drinker having already finished off two bottles of insanely expensive wine. He was startled that Fury had figured out that he had been drinking.
“Why am I not surprised?” Fury muttered disgustedly.
“Because you’re Nick fucking Fury, you’re never surprised are you?” He asked.
“I wouldn’t say never...” Fury said in a wiry tone. "You did a good job taking down that intergalactic squid from fuck knows where." Fury congratulated him reluctantly. Tony put the bottle back between his legs and straightened himself up more against the table leg.
“That sounded like it must have hurt to say, but you're welcome. So how’s the puppet WSC working for you?” Tony asked suddenly.
“Well enough.” Fury answered simply.
“I still don’t know why you insisted on putting that Alexander Pierce on the council.” Tony wondered out loud.
“He’s the one who recommended me to be SHIELD’s director to the original WSC, and he’s a trusted friend.” Fury said quietly.
“Trust and friendship, not words one would associate with you.” Tony said.
“There’s a good reason for that.” Fury said.
“I’m sure.” Tony agreed.
“I also had to, most of our assets are located on American soil, and it pays to have the US government think that they still have a hand in things.” Tony snorted at that.
“And your dear trusted friend doesn’t know that the rest of the council doesn’t actually exist?” Stark asked.
“Not a clue.” Fury said with certainty.
“Some trusted friend you have there.” Tony said.
“Exactly.” Fury said. Implying of course, that if that was how he treated his trusted friends, how would he treat his enemies? “I was right not to trust him.” Fury added slowly. Tony folded his legs one atop the other and took another gulp of his wine.
“Oh?” He asked curiously, taking the obvious bait.
“Lets just say, I need to clean house.” Fury said. Tony shook his head at the spy’s ambiguity.
“Ugh. Your spynessness is giving me hives. Cut to the chase Fury, I’ve got things that need doing. What do you want?” Tony asked, exasperated.
“I need one of those RVF masks you’ve been working on and another LMD, this one, of me.” Fury said.
“I’m not going to ask how you know about the masks, but why an LMD for you?” Tony asked, his sharp eyes, narrowing. Fury completely ignored his question.
“It needs to be able to pass a complete medical workup. Can you do it, or not Stark?” Fury snapped.
“You know I can, but I’d like to know why you would need a decoy? How dirty is your house?” Tony asked.
“Very, and I have no idea who to trust.”
“And yet you trust me, I’m flattered.” Tony said.
Fury snorted.
“I trust you as far as I can throw you when you’re in the armor.” Fury said.
“Then why tell me?” Tony asked.
“Project Insight.” Fury responded simply.
“What about it?”
“You know about it, you helped supply the tech for the new carriers.” Fury answered. Stark rolled his eyes.
“Yes, I know, I was there.” He said. Fury huffed out a breath.
“I think there is something wrong with the Project. It was too easy to get the funding, the approval came too quickly.” Fury said.
“Sometimes things are easy.” Tony said carefully, fiddling with the bottle between his hands.
“No they’re not.” Fury said.
“No they’re not.” Tony agreed back. “So what do you think is going on?” He asked.
“I don’t know, and I’m not sure something is up, yet. But something smells like three week dead Chitauri and I want a back up plan in case something does go wrong.” Fury said.
“I trusted you with my repulsion tech, Fury. Do I need to take care of this problem for you…again?” Tony said angrily, his eyes flashing.
“This is my house, I’ll take care of it.” Fury said, his tone one of tightly reined in anger. Tony nodded and thought for a moment.
“You still using the good Captain for SHIELD missions?” Tony asked offhandedly.
“That isn’t any of your business.” Fury said. He paused, then added grudgingly curious. “Why do you want to know?” Tony shrugged to himself.
“You said you didn’t know who to trust. Cap’s up in DC with you. Maybe you should trust him. After all, if you can’t trust Captain America, who can you trust?” There was a full minute of silence. Tony smiled, pleased that he had silenced the super spy. “By the way, the Hawk’s missing his Spider, I don’t suppose you would know where she is, would you?” Tony asked casually, finishing off the pinot noir.
“…The LMD, and RVF, how much?” Fury asked softly, disregarding Stark’s question. Tony sighed, annoyed.
“Fine, keep your secrets, Mr. McSpy. But it’s gonna cost you. 225 all together, and I’ll throw in the specs for free. To pass medical, it’ll need to be way more detailed than the council members’ so I’ll need a full biometric scan and makeup.” Tony finished quickly, without a slur.
“It’ll be sent to you.” Fury said.
“I wait with baited breath.” Tony said.
“And sober the fuck up, you know the shit we’ll be facing soon enough, you’ve seen what is being kept on level 8, we can’t afford for you to indulge your vices.” Fury said. Tony glared at the air in front of him.
“Fuck you.” Stark snarled before Fury hung up. Then he threw the empty bottle across the room, where it flew through a colorful holographic target before shattering against the far wall. Butterfingers began sweeping it up as Tony left the underside of the table to begin work on Fury’s LMD.
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(2.9m)abny
The three superhero’s sat around the oak kitchen table on Tony’s floor. Tony taking a much needed break from his workshop. “Why do I have two hands, Tony?” Bruce asked holding his hands up, each holding five Apples to Apples cards. Tony peered over the cards fanned out in his own hand.
“I don’t know, maybe because you were born that way?” Tony said sarcastically. Clint sniggered as he drank his cola, his cards resting face down in front of him. Bruce put the cards down and sighed.
“Seriously though, you do know that I don’t have Dissociative Identity Disorder?” Bruce asked. Tony nodded as he changed the order of the cards in his hand.
“Sure. But Hulk should get to play too, it wouldn’t be fair to exclude the guy just because he’s an awesome mean green fighting machine who happens to live inside an awesome tea drinking super scientist, now would it?”
“Just be happy and take the handicap Banner, he’s not going to stop otherwise.” Clint said with a wave towards Tony. Tony saluted him back with his middle finger.
“Fine.” Bruce agreed finally.
“Okay, I go first, cause I said. The word is, Hilarious.” Tony said. Clint stared at each card he had, his brows scrunched up in confusion. He put the cards back face down on the table and crossed his arms.
“Alright I call mulligan, did you alter these cards or what? I used to play this game all the time with Ph-, friends. I don’t know what any of these are. I mean, come on, transdimensional profundity? Flight of the Concords? LP? And who’s Richard Dawkins?” Hawkeye asked.
“A renowned evolutionary psychologist, who happens to be an avid Doctor Who fan. I, however, want to know who Cecil Baldwin is.” Bruce said while looking at one of his cards through his glasses. Tony’s eyes widened comically.
“You’re kidding right? Have you been living under a rock?” Bruce arched his eyebrow, while Clint stared at him.
“Yeah dude, he kinda has, but I don’t know who that is either.” Barton said. Tony tossed his cards into the box, annoyed.
“The game was boring before, I made it better, waaay better. But whatever, fine, different game then, sheesh! How about…?” Tony tapped his lip thoughtfully. “Who here can play Magic the Gathering?” He finally asked. Banner raised his hand shyly and pushed his glasses up on his nose. Tony smiled and slapped Bruce’s raised hand with his own.
“That’s my Science Bro.” Tony said. Bruce smiled nervously in return.
“You guys are such geeks.” Clint said.
“Sticks and stones…” Bruce said quietly.
“Says the guy who thinks using a bow and arrow is the epitome of cool.” Tony said. “Since you live with us now, you will have to feed the starved inner geek within you. Feed your geekiness Hood. Feed. Your. Geekiness.” Tony annunciated slowly. Clint smiled and threw back his soda.
“Fine Tony, show me how to play.” Clint said, giving in.
“I’ve got some spare decks you guys could use.” Tony got up and went for his game room. He came back a few minutes later with several boxes. “Ok, elf deck for Brucie, spirits for Hulk, solider deck for Clint, and squirrels for me.” Tony said passing out the decks. Bruce accepting without protest, the fact that he had to play with two decks. Tony and Bruce taught the sharpshooter how to play. Clint caught on surprisingly quickly. They then began playing in earnest.
“Why is it called tapping mana when I’m turning the card? What sense does that make?” Barton asked at one point. Bruce and Tony shared a look.
“Just shut up and be decimated by my squirrels of doom Clint.” Tony said as he turned his cards to attack.
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(3m)abny
Tony Stark lay in the center of his large bed for once. He hadn’t tried sleeping in a proper bed since he had left Pepper. He tossed and turned in the silken sheets as they twisted around him. He groaned loudly, his eyes wincing.
“N-no.” He moaned.
“Sir?” Jarvis asked. Tony whimpered.
“Please, don-, Ob-“
“Sir? Wake up!” Tony startled awake, his eyes wide and breathing heavily. He struggled to a sitting position as he clutched at the phantom pain in his chest, feeling the smooth titanium cover where his arc reactor used to reside. Sometimes he missed the reassuring blue glow, more than sometimes.
“J-JARVIS?” He asked the dim room desperately.
“I’m here sir. The time is 2pm. You are in Avenger Tower and the sun should be shining.” Tony took a moment to process what his A.I. had said.
“Should be?” He asked, looking toward the nearest eyecam.
“I’m afraid so Sir. There is a thunder god currently reclining on the penthouse balcony.” JARVIS said dryly.
“Thor’s here.” Tony stated, hearing the thunder and pelting rain even from within his bedroom.
“Indeed, Sir.” JARVIS affirmed. Tony rose from his bed slowly.
“Yay.” He said without much joy. He put on some shoes and brought a large umbrella with him as he headed for his common room, still in his Iron Man pajama pants and black T. He glared at the rain pounding outside the glass doors to the balcony. His glare then refocused on the large and muscular hunched man sitting on the ledge of his terrace. He took a breath, opened the umbrella and braved the rain outside. Luckily there wasn’t any wind. The rain sheeted straight down, falling around the umbrella, avoiding him completely. He could see the darkened clouds surrounding Avenger Tower in a mile wide circle. The rest of the city was in full sunshine. Fucking rain, Tony thought viciously. He studiously avoided puddles as he walked over to the god sitting on his ledge. He stood behind him and resisted the urge to shove him off. After all, the god could fly. “Turn off the waterworks, would you?!” Tony yelled over the roar of the rain and thunder. Thor turned to look at him and Tony swallowed some of his ire at the man’s wrecked expression.
“My apologies Man of Iron, I did not know you would be in your spire.” Thor said quietly, his voice somehow cutting through the sound and fury of the weather raging around them. Thor turned to look back out over the city as the storm around them quieted, the rain and thunder ceasing altogether, although the storm clouds yet remained.
“Why are you here?” Tony asked as he folded up the umbrella and leaned on it.
“I did not wish to share my burden with my Lady, I came here on a whim, nothing more.” Thor said. All energy and vitality seemed drained from him.
“Your lady?” Tony asked. Thor’s lips quirked upward slightly.
“My Lady, the mortal, Jane Foster.” Thor said. Tony hummed to himself, twisting the umbrella in his hands.
“Jane Foster? The astrophysicist?”
“Indeed, that is her title.” Thor asserted.
“I know her, sort of; tried to hire her for SI. She’s very clever, top of her field.” He said. Thor smiled in earnest.
“Truly, she is beyond compare!” Thor declared proudly before sinking once more into himself. Tony steeled himself.
“What’s bothering you?” Tony asked cautiously.
“My mother and brother have both left this life for another.” Thor said sadly, thunder rumbled distantly. Tony looked up worriedly before popping the umbrella back open and raising it above his head, just in case.
“Oh…I’m sorry.” Tony said, his eyes fixated on the clouds above.
“I know my brother’s death will only bring you and many other’s joy, however his last acts in life were heroic and he was my brother.” Thor said earnestly, strangling the grip of the hammer in his hands. Tony looked down at the morose god.
“I don’t know what to say Thor, I’m not good at this kind of thing… Feelings they make me itchy…you know?” Tony trailed off uncertainly. He shook himself and nodded to the penthouse behind him. “Why don’t we go inside, we can drink, eat, whatever, and you can tell me about it, if you want? I may not have known your mother, or liked your brother all that much or at all... I’ve certainly never had any siblings, or been that close with my own family, but…I can listen…” Thor looked up at his fellow warrior standing awkwardly behind him, holding up an umbrella against any possibility of rain. He read true sympathy in the man’s eyes, a desire to help.
“Yes…Man of Iron, that would be well, perhaps you are not as bad at these things as you think.” Thor said.
“Call me Tony.” Tony said as they walked through the glass doors together.
“Friend Tony, show me these drinks and victuals of yours!” Thor yelled as he slapped the slighter man on the back, causing him to stumble as they entered the penthouse, leaving the dark clouds swirling behind them.