Getting back to work
There was some disagreement at the swear jar whether 'prick' counted, but the majority consensus was that it was merely vulgar, so I didn't have to pay for it. It was still a little embarrassing, though. Steve came from a time and place where nice men didn't normally curse or be vulgar around women, and I did try to respect that and reciprocate, but sometimes my potty mouth can't resist chipping in.
At dinner, Steve and I indulged in a rich chicken Marsala; Tony did not. The real benefit of widespread mutations, I believe, is that they require more energy and thus more food. Tony didn't have mutations, so he was stuck with just a salad.
"I have to apologize to you to for asking whether you slept with my dad," he said, looking distinctly uncomfortable, pushing around lettuce leaves in his sad little salad.
"Did you really think she did?" Steve asked.
"No," Tony mumbled. "I was just angry and wanted her to be too."
"Mission accomplished," Steve said dryly as I chewed, somewhat distracted by the luscious sauce and the mushrooms.
"I accept your apology," I said, having finally swallowed, then smiled brightly at him. "But if you question my character like that again just to get a reaction, I'll be sure you regret it. " I paused, thought it over, and nodded. "Really regret it." Tony looked chastened and Steve a little alarmed.
Then I dropped the topic. "I forgot to tell you, I had a word with the police while I was back East. One of my former classmates is now the right-hand man of the police chief in the town where Bucky's living," I told Steve. "Given Bucky's notoriety, I felt it was advisable to let him know that he was living there and that his conditioning had been fixed so that he isn't a threat to the residents." Steve looked attentive. "I don't want anybody recognizing him, raising a fuss and getting him run out of town. The first two things might still happen, but I told Darrell that I'd been assured by Captain America himself that it was ok for him to be found in public these days, and that these assertions could be proven by medical professionals."
"Good idea," Tony said, unexpectedly. "The cops can talk to him themselves, assess him, and if they have any questions, they can contact you and you can put them in touch with Cap." His smirk at me was kind of evil. "How did you explain knowing Captain America?"
"I couldn't," I said, rolling my eyes. "But that's where the idea that I work for the CIA really gained traction." Then I grinned at Steve. "A lot of women, and a couple of guys who have come out, wanted to know how much of your costume is padding and how much is you." Tony started to laugh as Steve turned beet red.
"What did you tell them?" Tony asked, wiping his eyes.
"I said that I hadn't seen him naked, so I couldn't say for certain." I took a sip of wine. "There were some disappointed classmates, that's for sure," I said demurely. Steve blushed. It was cute. When Tony seemed to be enjoying Steve's discomfort a bit too much, I added, "I did say that yours was entirely the suit." Tony looked affronted, and Steve chuckled.
"But you told them that I'm in shape under the suit, right?" Tony pressed, and I laughed as the banter continued. It was really nice to have things back to normal; I don't like to carry an extended grudge. It's wearing. I had a much more relaxed evening than I'd anticipated.
It was good to have distractions, though, as sequencing DNA from my samples and poor Les' continued. It was so much faster than it was even five years ago, but there were a lot of base pairs to map, and then they had to be compared, and nobody knew exactly what to look for, although the smart bet was that the mutations would be in the junk DNA of the specific chromosomes. Thor had already said that he and/or Sif would take a set of samples back to Asgard the next time either of them returned, so there could be more people working on the problem. I got a sick feeling every time I thought about it, so mostly I tried not to. It's not pleasant to wonder if your own skin was going to end up killing you in a lingering and painful manner. I didn't want to think about that, but I also knew I wasn't going to go out like that. Planning, though, would wait until I knew if I had to worry about it.
All of us spent some time in costume at the visitor's center, making mostly unannounced appearances. School groups got free admission, and other kids' groups got a greatly discounted admission tickets; additionally, parents in straitened circumstances could apply for free passes. We wanted everybody to be able to get in touch with the softer side of the Avengers. The next day, though, was a Make-A-Wish event for kids from all over the country, so all of us who were acceptable in public (Hulk was the only one excepted) were expected to be there and interact with the kids. I had a new costume variant to try--bronze-washed distressed finish chain mail instead of plate armor, no ridiculous little skirt, a floral design embossed into the leather at the side of the pants, and leather gauntlets rather than the metal ones, so I was feeling pretty peppy. Not so Tony, who was complaining about the weight of the suit and loss of dexterity with the gauntlets. Everybody listened tolerantly, but there was no question of him not wearing it--the kids wanted to see Iron Man in full regalia.
Tony made a big entrance and as usual took on the role of Master of Ceremonies; the rest of us walked in rather more leisurely and met the kids as a group first, then split up to where the kids were grouped at tables according to their favorite Avenger. Not surprisingly, Iron Man, Captain America, Thor and Black Widow were the most popular, but to my surprise, I had a little group as well, mostly girls, but I also had a couple of boys. I'd been told some kids wanted to meet me, but I had presumed they'd be at other tables. I answered questions about my work, was vague about both my mutations and how I got them, and gave each kid a tiny toy replica of my hammer that I'd made in my workshop. The girls liked my new costume and wanted to know how I made the chain mail. We were also expected to circulate to other tables, and when I returned to mine after meeting kids at Scarlet Witch's table (she was entertaining them by making things fly around them), I found Tony at mine, explaining how I'd helped him make his new suit. The kids were more impressed with that than anything else, and I resolved to have him tell that story at all these get-togethers. There were a lot of pictures taken and the kids reshuffled into groups according to food restrictions so that they could have some treats. All of us were affected, Clint most of all. You could tell that as a father himself, he really related to the kids and their parents. The kids were fantastic, but I was glad when the activity was over; so many kids so sick with nothing that any of us could do to help was sad.
My work had dried up unexpectedly; Nick told me in exasperation to relax and take it easy, but that's easier said than done. I was working with a patent lawyer to discuss patenting my new alloys, but we weren't sure it was necessary since all of them needed to be nudged along by me. I bugged the lawyer to the limits of her tolerance, then switched my attention to the medical staff. They didn't have any news for me, but then somebody had the bright idea to see whether I could isolate bases in the double helix of DNA and swap them out without damaging the DNA. Working with the strands of genetic material was difficult and we found out pretty quickly that any substitutions of bases had to be made when the strand was being unzipped and duplicated; just yanking out a base pair and sticking something else on the sugars damaged the macromolecules. It was difficult work; I kept a line drawing of the base pairs with corrections with me at all times for reference since pushing atoms around a biological matrix was a lot more difficult than pushing crystal forms. It had been a long shot anyway; there was no way I could personally alter enough DNA to reduce or remove the mutation, and I slouched out of the medical suite after a couple of weeks of frustration. It seemed to have given them ideas about potential treatments, and as I left they were talking about A-DNA and Z-DNA. I didn't understand the advanced structures at all.
I was grateful when engineering contacted me about helping with parts for the next generation quinjet, then Steve had the bright idea of giving selected kids little copies of his shield the way I had with my hammer, then Thor wanted in on that too. Natasha proposed little pins of her red hourglass. Tony wanted pins of his mask, and finally Nick stepped in and arranged for an outside company to produce small numbers of high quality, enameled souvenirs that we could give to kids like at the Make-A-Wish event. It was good that he did, otherwise I'd have been stuck making trinkets instead of more interesting things. The next generation of the quinjets was promising some major upgrades in electronics, maneuvering, and upgrades in the medical unit as well as more comfortable seats and increased gear storage, and I was excited to be contributing to the fabric of the quinjets with high-stress metal components and more durable armor plating. The bad guys were scaling up their damage, and I had hopes that this round of plating would be a few jumps ahead of them.