Tony and the Twin
Quentin shot off a text towards Mike that they would have company, despite knowing full well that Mike had no intention of showing up.
The two Becks and a baby Beck spent the car ride reciting rules, or at least one of them was.
“Exposed wires. What do we do?”
Quincy groaned, sinking into his seat. “Tin-Tin, I’m hardly five. You don’t need to baby me.”
Quentin sighed. “You haven’t signed anything, so if you or your kid get injured under my watch in my lab, guess whose fault it is?”
Quincy huffed. “I’m not gonna get injured. Not all of us forgot to drink milk as children. I’ve got strong bones.”
Quentin rested his head against the steering wheel for a second, counting to three to prevent himself from swerving off the road in an attempt to commit murder and insurance fraud. There’s a baby in the back, he reminded himself.
“Maybe I’ll be lucky and your teeth will be knocked out, somehow.” He muttered.
Quincy laughed, flashing him a grin with his stupid, straight, white teeth. “You’re just jealous because Mutter says I’ve got a winning smile.”
If the tires swerved against asphalt for a second longer than they should’ve, neither said a thing.
“Bathroom here, the break room’s a few floors down. Tell me if you want to grab a coffee or something, I don’t want you getting lost.”
“Aw, didn’t think you cared, Tiny.”
Quentin subconsciously murmured a “don’t call me that” before running through some simulations.
“So this is what those nifty degrees were for?” Quincy looked stunned and impressed, and pride swelled like a balloon in Quentin’s chest. Misty babbled excitedly in his arms, chubby arms waving to catch the illusions.
He was quiet for a moment, unable to stop his mouth from asking Quincy a question.
“Wanna see my fav- my best work?”
Quincy nodded, stumbling back when Berlin flared to life around him. The temperature dropped, the air becoming a little crisper.
“One day, I’ll show Mutter.” Quentin admitted. Quincy was speechless, moving forward to inspect every rock and brick in the illusion.
Quentin felt proud, his ego inflating so fast that he felt light-headed.
“I can keep up some simulations to entertain you while I work. Tell me if you need something.”
Quincy nodded dumbly, still spinning in a slow circle to take in their surroundings.
Quentin heaved a sigh of relief, happy that Quincy wouldn’t make too much of a fuss. Maybe he had overreacted. Oddly enough, he was more worried about Quincy than the actual baby.
Quentin allowed an illusion to run for Quincy while he worked. Misty was snoozing away in a box. Quincy had given him an odd look when he revealed a sturdy box filled with soft, high-quality sweaters, but brushed away some lollipops and set Misty gently in the box.
“This feels wrong. These sweaters cost more than I make in a year.”
Quentin rolled his eyes, muttering something about starving musicians and turning back to complete some coding.
“I’m bored. Can we go do something?” Quentin cursed in alarm, sparks dancing on his skin from the open wire he had pulled out on accident.
Quentin glared at his brother, glancing to the clock and sighing. He had gotten one and a half hours of work in before Quincy grew bored.
“Let’s grab a coffee.” Quentin suggested, narrowing his eyes when Quincy picked up a lollipop that had been brushed to the side.
“What’s this? Candy?” Quincy unwrapped a butterscotch lollipop, sticking it in his mouth.
“What if those were poisoned, and you, like an idiot, just ate it without thinking?”
“But they’re not.”
Quentin huffed. “No, but you’re reckless.”
“You should hold Misty. She likes you.” Quincy picked up Misty, offering her to Quentin.
Quentin complied, but a flush rose on his cheeks. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to hold her.”
Quincy shook his head. “She actually hates being held by most people. Since she was sleeping when Mom held her, she didn’t react.”
Quentin scowled, but shifted his arms to support Misty’s head. “Fine. I still think you’re a liar.”
Quincy shrugged, but followed Quentin out of the lab without complaining.
After dealing with a hyper-active Quincy in an elevator (yes, the view was nice, but there was no reason to leave smudges all over the glass), Quentin pointed at the door. “That’s the break room.”
Before they entered, Mike appeared, calling Quentin urgently. It was the first time Quentin had seen the man all day.
Quentin sighed, gesturing for Quincy to go into the break room while he talked with Mike, who gave him a suspicious look for holding a baby.
Quincy shrugged, walking in just as Mike started talking. “Whose baby is that? Nevermind. Look, Beck, I think I’ve got this virus, I- I don’t know why…”
Quincy stepped into the spacious break-room, pondering what life would be like with an office job. It didn’t suit him, that’s for sure.
He spotted a fancy coffee machine and made a beeline for it without noticing a woman enter.
“Beck? Is that you?” Susie eyed the back of somebody who was vaguely Quentin-shaped. The hair color was the same, plus, he had a lollipop in his left hand, so it had to be him, right? No one else had any lollipops.
Maybe-Beck turned around, and Susie choked on her words.
It was Beck, from the bridge of his nose to the cool blue of his eyes, but he was way more tan, his hair was messier, and there was a beard adorning his face, along with a grin with perfect teeth.
“Hey,” Tan-Beck greeted, looking her up and down. Susie felt a blush overcome her face, and she barely squeaked out a greeting. Was his voice raspier?
He laughed at her, running a free hand through his unstyled and windswept hair.
“You look… different?” Susie finally managed to say.
“Bad different?” He squinted at her, and Susie noticed smile lines near his eyes. Were those new? Not to mention the freckles!
“No!” She rushed out. “It’s just- you look really good with a beard, Quentin.”
He didn’t correct her on her address of him, and something like amusement glinted in his eyes.
What the hell happened to him?
“Really good, huh?” Quincy repeated, heavily amused with the situation. “Thanks. Good to know the ladies like it,” he quipped, shooting her a wink.
Susie was more flustered than she had ever been in her life. Did Quentin just wink at her?
The real Quentin entered the room quietly, pausing and surveying the situation. Quincy was smiling at Susie, who was incredibly pink.
“What’s going on here?” He asked, exasperation from dealing with Mike leaking into his tone. Whatever intimidation factors he had were dulled somewhat by the cherubic baby in his arms.
Susie turned, and confusion clouded her features, whirling around to look at Quincy, then back to Quentin.
“Who- if you- what? Is that a baby?”
Quentin sighed, listening to the uproarious laughter Quincy let out.
“Susie, this is my twin brother, Quincy. I apologize for any confusion. And yes, this is a baby.”
Susie opened and closed her mouth a few times, eyes darting between the two, then to the baby, before an even darker blush overtook her face.
“Baby? Twins?” She squeaked out.
“Yes, ma’am,” Quincy crooned from where he was leaning against the counter.
Quentin shot him a glare. “Leave her alone,” he commanded. Susie was too overwhelmed to deal with Quincy’s flirtatious nature. Unbeknownst to Quentin, she was also too overwhelmed to deal with Quentin defending her.
“Aw, I was having fun,” Quincy came up behind Susie, patting her on the head. Quentin huffed and grabbed Quincy’s wrist, dragging him away from Susie.
“I can’t take you anywhere,” Quentin admonished while dragging Quincy out of the room.
Quincy gave a full belly-laugh, clutching his stomach and throwing his head back. “Bye-bye, Susie.” He cooed, blowing her a kiss before the door shut.
Susie stared at the closed door, cheeks aflame. Two Becks… Quentin with a baby.
Susie gulped and reached for the flask in her pocket, taking a sip to ease her mind.
“But I wanted coffee!” Quincy whined, gesturing to the lab exit like Quentin would let him out.
“You’re lucky it was just Susie. You could be filed for harassment!” Quentin scowled at the taller of the two before pushing him into a seat. Misty had woken up with a wail, fisting at Quentin’s sweater and screaming as babies did.
Quincy didn’t complain, only crossing his arms and angrily sucking on his butterscotch lollipop. “Food is in my backpack,” He said sourly. “I didn’t get my coffee, you can’t get your quiet.”
Quentin bared his teeth at Quincy and took his free hand to root around the backpack, finding a tupperware of something orange. He found a container with a baby spoon and scowled at Quincy, who was watching impassively.
“Mom would be proud,” Quincy commented as Quentin set down Misty on Mike’s desk (as if he would risk dirtying his own work) and spoon fed her messily.
“She’s covered with food.” Quentin said once Misty was full and on her way to dozing off again.
Quentin finally took pity on him, finding a spare outfit for Misty in his dad-bag and changing her into it easily.
He set her in the sweater-box and turned pleading eyes toward Quentin. “Can you get me coffee now?”
“I’ll get you a coffee, just… stay. Put.” Quentin stressed before briskly (was he ever not brisk?) walking out.
Quincy blew a raspberry at his back, huffing and sliding down a bit in the chair, watching Misty’s tiny chest move up and down with her breaths.
A few minutes passed in boredom, but Quincy didn’t know if any of Quentin’s tech was dangerous, so he stayed put.
He was about to nod off when a vaguely familiar brunette burst into the room, chatting at a mile a minute.
“I think JARVIS is going through his rebellious teenage phase, Q. How am I supposed to make him see that I only want the best for- who are you?”
Quincy blinked owlishly in his most Quentin-esque manner, taking the lollipop from his mouth. “How many people are going to think I’m a different person because of my beard?”
Tony shook his head, absently giving the man a quick once-over. He looked like Q, blinked like Q, and acted almost exactly like Q, but it just wasn’t right. In his close inspection of the stranger, he failed to notice the baby snoozing in a box on Quentin’s desk.
“Okay, first of all,” Tony mused, walking closer to the seated man. Almost-Q watched him through lidded eyes, something that Q wouldn’t ever do. His m- that man had eyes like a hawk.
“Q didn’t have a beard yesterday. You have one, and as impressive as Q’s hair can be, it doesn’t grow that fast.” He circled the stranger, rubbing his chin in thought, oblivious to the roaming eyes.
“Second of all, you’re tan and- and you’ve got freckles. Q doesn’t, as much as I wish he did. Thirdly,” Tony snatched the lollipop from his hand.
“Q hates butterscotch.”
Quincy stared at him for a moment before grinning slyly. Tony noted that this man didn’t have a dimple on his cheek like Quentin did.
“You’re right. Clever, aren’t you?” He said flirtatiously. Tony was suddenly struck by how attractive the man was.
(He knew he only found him attractive because he looked like Q.)
“Quenty doesn’t like butterscotch, but…” Quincy leaned forward in his chair, taking the lollipop back with his mouth alone, winking at Tony, “I happen to enjoy it quite a lot.”
Unbidden, a warm flush decorated Tony’s ears and cheeks. He cleared his throat, trying not to focus on the man’s smile lines and the freckles that were spread down his neck- did they go lower?- and the way his eyes were staring through thick lashes up at Tony and-
“What are you doing?” Quentin blurted out, narrowing his eyes at the sight before him, nearly dropping the coffee in his hand.
Both of them turned at the noise. Quentin walked over to them, moving close to them and pushing Quincy’s chair back, rolling it away with a squeak.
“Tony, Quincy, there will be none of that in this lab.” Quentin said curtly, almost harshly. Tony thought he was imagining it, he must have been, but was there a bit of hurt in Quentin’s voice?
The squeak of the chair woke up Misty, and Tony didn’t have time to yelp at the unexpected baby before Quentin rushed over in a panic.
“No, no, what do you want?”
Quincy watched dumbly at the sudden mother-hen that replaced his brother.
Quentin clicked his tongue, picking up the baby and holding her so that she was cuddling his chest. She hiccuped into his neck, nuzzling the bare skin there and leaving snot and tears.
“Call her pet names. She likes it.” Quincy suggested, moving to root around for a pacifier in the bag.
Quentin thought deeply, subconsciously bouncing Misty up and down and rubbing a circle into her back with hands normally used to flicking switches and typing on keyboards.
Pet names? He glanced over at Tony, who was still gaping, and was reminded of the names Tony had mentioned.
He bent his neck to curl around Misty better, thumb brushing the wisps of hair on the back of her head. “Shh, shh, honey, it’s alright. Don’t cry, go to sleep… sh, shh.”
Misty hiccuped again and snuggled further into Quentin’s chest and neck, little puffs of breath fanning out on his skin.
Quincy grinned at him. “You take after Mom, don’t you?”
Quentin didn’t reply, still cradling Misty and swaying unconsciously to rock her.
“Time out!” Tony shouted, earning the glares of both of the Becks. Quentin gave him a look, and Tony gulped quieting down.
“Time out,” he repeated quietly, waving his hands at the odd scene in front of him.
“Who- Quentin, this is the brother you told me about? And the baby- how the fu- the fudge are you good with babies? That’s bullsh- poop. I’m very, very confused.”
Quentin sighed, passing the baby to Quincy, who rocked her expertly and walked a little ways away, walking in a circle and humming to his baby.
Quentin felt his lips twitch, hearing the tune that their mother used to sing to them as children.
“That is my brother, Quincy. We’re twins. The baby is my.. niece, Misty.” He said, sounding like he was just discovering it as well.
“You’re surprisingly good with her.” Tony commented, wondering if Quentin would call him ‘honey’ if he started crying on the spot.
“I’m surprised, too.” Quentin said, confusion clear in his pinched expression. Tony idly plotted drawing freckles on Quentin’s face, if only to see how adorable he would be.
Quentin coughed into his hand and turned fully to Tony, tilting his head. “So what did you want?”
Tony grinned and started up his rant about JARVIS, hyper-aware of the way Quentin’s eyes would flicker to his niece, who admittedly was a little cute.
Not cuter than Tony, though, who by right of friendship should have been coddled like that weeks ago.
Quentin was still really stiff about physical contact, though. Tony glanced toward his twin, who was kissing his daughter on the head and cuddling her.
Maybe he could get the next best thing? The man seemed into him, and it wasn’t like Quentin was interested at all. Tony didn’t know if Quentin could be interested in anyone.
He gave Quincy a considering look, and Quentin watched the way Tony checked out his brother, something tightening in his chest.
“You’re about to ask if Quincy’s single.” He guessed, faking an exasperated eye-roll when Tony shrugged sheepishly. He rolled his eyes so Tony wouldn’t see them look down in disappointment. The feeling in his chest grew.
Quincy sighed. “He is, to my knowledge.” He sounded annoyed, and he knew it.
Tony winced. Did he say something wrong? He gulped and changed the subject.
“So, your niece. You sounded confused yourself when you said it.”
Quentin noticed the subject change, but let it slide. “Yes. I only found out about her existence a day ago.”
Tony recalled the easy way he handled her. “You like her?”
Quentin shifted uneasily, muttering out a small, “it’s too soon to know.”
Tony scoffed. “No it’s not, you called her honey for crying out loud. You don’t just meet someone and call them honey a day later.” He sounded childishly bitter.
Quentin blinked. “Would.. would you like me to call you honey, then?”
Tony paused, and his ears turned red before he muttered a small, “well now you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“You spent it already. The novelty’s gone.”
Quentin rolled his eyes at the petulant tone Tony had adopted.
“Any other names you want, then?”
Tony brightened. “I’ll get back to you on that… bring a little list so we can have variety.”
Quentin and Tony descended into a fit of bickering, complete with swatting and in Tony’s case, blowing raspberries.
Quincy watched his brother interact with “Tony,” completely mystified. Apparently the Tony who left those bold glasses at Quentin’s place was Tony Stark?
Misty snored softly in his arms, and he didn’t stop rocking her, pondering how different Quentin seemed around Tony.
It made him feel bad for flirting with Tony, knowing Quenty had a crush on the man. He didn’t blame him, since Tony was cute, and there were probably millions of people trying to get into those oddly tight, expensive pants.
He hummed thoughtfully, recalling how ruffled Quentin seemed when he walked in on them. Having grown up with the grumpy man, Quincy liked to think he knew Quentin fairly well.
When they were children, Quentin had wanted a small plush dinosaur toy, which Quincy decided to take for himself. He had gone up to their mother, telling Quentin that he wished to have his own dinosaur toy
Quentin had been confused and close to tears, but didn’t say anything until Quincy tugged on their mother’s sleeves. The shorter boy raced over, toy in hand, adamant on buying it, but not having the confidence to do so before he realized Quentin was going to take it from him.
Quincy nodded to himself, deciding that Tony could be the metaphorical dinosaur this time, since Quentin would never admit his feelings.
He sighed, brushing Misty’s hair back. He had to do everything for Quentin, didn't he?