Regain
General Ross was having a very bad day.
“Sir, the numbers have just come back in,” said a trembling lackey, shoulders hunched and head down as he half-cowered in front of the General, paper shaking in his hand like a leaf. “Since Jason Stark’s reveal and his joining the Avengers, the Avengers’ approval rating has gone up 46%. They’re now at 77% approval domestically and 68% approval internationally.”
“How has one brat made that much difference?” Ross growled, and the lackey quaked. Around them, the rest of his team scurried around the base, eagerly avoiding eye contact. When there was no answer, Ross pinned the kid with a glare. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, boy.”
“Yes, sir,” he squeaked. “P-people are a lot more willing to forgive with Tony Stark’s son saying he trusts the Avengers, sir. Especially since he’s stepping in to be Iron Man right beside them, sir. He’s showing the world how to forgive and forget while also making it look like nothing has changed since the Avengers lineup hasn’t changed. It’s appealing to both the nostalgic and the futurist groups.”
Ross let out a heavy, displeased sigh. “Dismissed,” he ordered curtly, and the lackey scuttled away quickly. He stomped back to his office, furiously ruminating on this new problem.
He’d had the Avengers right where he wanted them – distrusted and practically hated after the murder of Iron Man, banished and unable to leave Wakanda for fear of arrest and therefore unable to win back the public’s trust. If they’d just stayed that way he had no doubt he could’ve gotten the Accords council on board with the more restrictive amendments he’d been trying for years to pass. That thrice-damned Iron Man’s legacy had been the only thing left in his way; the peoples’ love for their fallen hero had afforded superhumans a final shield of protection, with the Accords council not wanting to anger the public by introducing a slew of restrictive regulations Tony Stark himself had fervently opposed.
But that shield would only have stood for so long – sooner or later, ardor for Iron Man would’ve died down enough that Ross would’ve been able to push the new regulations through, possibly even under the guise of protecting future people like Iron Man. It would’ve been a sort of poetic justice, to his mind, to enact restrictions on superhumans in Iron Man’s name by citing that his death may have been prevented had those restrictions been in place in the first place. The reveal that the witch was behind everything had only bolstered his position, with outrage against a superpowered individual taking the public stage, followed by subsequent fear of what others with her abilities might be able to do. And with the news that those Avengers would be coming back to the States? Well, Ross had been certain it wouldn’t be too long before they’d make a misstep, and then he’d be there, restrictive measures smugly in hand, to offer the Accords their salvation from the superhero threat.
But then Tony Stark just had to go and fuck up his plans again by having a fucking son pop out of the woodworks, ready and willing to step into his father’s shoes. Ross had stayed his hand when he’d first heard, hoping that he could perhaps use the stupid boy to move up his plans; after all, if Jason Stark had proven to be anything less than his father, it was feasible that Ross could maneuver him into tarnishing his father’s legacy and removing the hero-worship of Iron Man from the equation altogether.
But no, Jason Stark just had to be every bit as infuriatingly noble and brilliant as his pain-in-the-ass father – and, what was worse, his squeaky clean reputation and general air of charming-but-serious sincerity had the nation practically cooing at him, already half in love with the Stark heir. It was nauseating.
Ross slammed the door of his office shut, throwing himself into his desk chair and glaring at the papers before him. What was he supposed to do now? The public loved Jason Stark, the Accords council loved Jason Stark – hell, if he could get Stark on his side, he’d have probably been able to pass anything he could ever dream of! But he had no such illusions that the Stark boy would fall in line; everything he’d seen had demonstrated that the boy was too much like his father to take Ross’s side.
But if he used the Stark boy, spun a story about how poor little Jason Stark needed more protection from those mean enhanced people who had killed his father – with how much the public loved the kid? Well, that could be a different game altogether…
“Children! Pizza’s here!” Pepper’s voice called, and Harley and Peter let out elated cries, while Jay let out an indignant one.
“Pepper Potts, I am a 48-year-old man, I am not a child!” he yelled, crossing his arms petulantly as Harley and Peter dashed to the where Pepper stood in the doorway, three steaming boxes of pizza in hand.
“I think what you mean is ‘thank you, oh sweet goddess Pepper, for bringing me and my friends food during our playdate, since I am a growing boy who wants to be taller than 5’5’,” Pepper said in a high-pitched voice, smirking at his narrowed eyes as she handed the boxes off to Harley. Peter immediately grabbed the top box from Harley, opening it and letting the steam hit him in the face.
“Yes, sausage and pineapple, my favorite!” he cheered, and Harley elbowed him, sauntering over towards Jay.
“You’re so weird,” he called over his shoulder, and Peter stuck his tongue out at him. “Who gets pineapple on a pizza?”
“People with excellent taste, that’s who,” Peter muttered, and Jay snorted, taking the pizza box Harley handed him.
“Sorry, Petey, pretty sure Harl’s in the right on this one,” he said wryly, and Peter stared at him, betrayed.
“I thought you were bae, turns out you just fam,” Peter said sadly, and Jay blinked at him while Harley snickered. Jay took comfort in the fact that Pepper also looked confused.
“What?”
“Boss, I believe Mr. Parker is quoting a Vine,” FRIDAY chimed in, and Jay blinked again, vaguely remembering something about Vine from a few years ago.
“Riiiiight,” he drawled out, setting his pizza on the workstation table and opening it. He tugged up a chair, and Harley and Peter did the same, moving aside various half-finished inventions to make room for their pizza boxes.
“Alright, boys, I’m out. Try not to blow anything up while I’m gone, or I’ll have to get you all a baby-sitter next time,” Pepper said brightly, turning to leave, and Jay refused to let that stand.
“I am an adult, Potts! Also, I am so taller than 5’5! Do you hear me – “
“Boss, the doors have closed and the room is soundproof, she cannot hear you,” FRIDAY informed him, and Jay scowled at the ceiling.
“Goddammit, FRI, I know that, it was a figure of speech – “
“Well, I was just wanting to clarify – “
“I should go back and delete all the sass from your subroutines – “
“You do that, Boss,” FRIDAY said smugly, both of them knowing Jay would never.
“Also, can I just say it’s pathetic that you have the entire internet in your head and you’re still not caught up on Vines?” Harley said through a mouthful of pizza. Jay grinned. Harley and Peter had been fascinated by his new technopath abilities, demanding that he use it for everything from turning off and on the lights to puppeteering one of the suits. That particular experiment had been especially fun since he’d had the suit challenge Harley to a dance off and had discovered that the suit wasn’t limited by his own dancing skills (which were approximately nil); he could upload dances from YouTube to his suit and let it go wild. Of course, that had ended up with a few knocked-over tables and broken shelves; the suit didn’t have the same spatial awareness as a person, after all, so it just did the dance without concern for anything that might be in its way.
“Hey, you try being your own secret-fake-son-slash-new-superhero with weird powers who also has to take over an international company and tell me how much free time you have to waste on memes!” Jay said indignantly.
“Excuse you! Waste time on memes? Geez, how could I have ever called you my mentor?” Peter said, brandishing a slice of pizza at him.
“It’s a fucking travesty,” Harley agreed, and Jay pouted.
“I knew I shouldn’t have gotten you two together, I should’ve known you’d gang up on me,” he said sullenly, glaring at them.
“Too late for that, we’ve already exchanged numbers,” Peter said cheerfully, and Jay let out an exaggerated groan.
“FRIDAY, you’re responsible for warning me when they inevitably come up with a plan to take over the world,” Jay instructed.
“Noted, Boss. Should that be a warning so that you can stop them or help them?” she asked sweetly, and Jay grumbled under his breath.
“Please, like we’d need his help to take over the world,” Harley scoffed. “He’d probably want us to do something lame like use corporate business models or frame people for tax fraud or something equally boring.”
“Excuse you, my world-takeover plans would be amazing and a lot more successful than anything you two bozos could come up with!” Jay declared, affronted.
“Did you really just say bozos?” Peter asked.
“God, see, he’s way too lame for our badass world domination plans, Parker,” Harley said, rolling his eyes.
“Darn straight,” Peter agreed, and Jay looked back and forth between them, waiting for Harley to harp on him.
“What, he can say ‘darn,’ but I can’t say ‘bozos’?” he finally cried, gesturing at Peter, and Harley shrugged.
“We cool kids have to stick together,” Harley said solemnly, reaching out nonchalantly for a fist bump that Peter returned eagerly. Jay threw his hands up.
“I’m Iron Man, dammit, you guys can’t out-cool me!”
“Okay, you have a solid point,” Harley admitted, lips quirking with a repressed grin. “Maybe we could extend cool kid membership to you for our world domination plans. Just this once.”
“I’m honored,” Jay said sarcastically, and Harley and Peter grinned at him.
“So world domination?” Peter chirped excitedly.
“World domination,” Harley confirmed. Jay only sighed.
“What the hell is that?”
Peter, Harley, and Jay spun, guilty expressions written across their faces. Jay quickly banished the holograms, smiling innocently at Pepper.
“Nothing! We were just, uh, messing around with some 3D architecture models and stuff,” he said quickly, then kicked Harley when he started snickering. Pepper folded her arms, walking further into the lab.
“Those buildings must not have been very structurally sound, then, because a lot of them looked like rubble,” she said dubiously, raising an unimpressed eyebrow, but Jay kept his smile in place.
“We had to test how sturdy they were. Can’t have unsafe buildings,” he said seriously with a decisive nod.
“Right. And the giant throne sitting on top of all the rubble with the ‘Emperor Keener’ banner hanging over it?”
“We needed some kind of decorations to spruce up the rubble, of course. Otherwise, it would’ve just been depressing,” Peter piped up, his earnest voice the perfect selling point. Too bad Pepper wasn’t buying.
“Of course,” she said drily, rolling her eyes. “Alright, boys, the playdate’s at an end. Your aunt and mom are waiting in the lobby for you.”
“Awwww,” all three boys chimed together unhappily, then grinned at one another.
“Thanks for having us over, Jay,” Peter said brightly, pulling him into a tight hug.
“Yeah, thanks, man,” Harley said with a quick side hug.
“Any time, guys! You’ll have to come visit again soon so we can work on our – uh – architecture plan,” Jay invited, smiling happily.
“Yeah, definitely!”
“For sure!”
And with that, the duo left the lab, chattering to one another as they exited with Jay smiling fondly after them.
“It’s good to see you looking happy,” Pepper said quietly, leaning against the doorframe. Jay only smiled at her, relishing the strange mixture of pleasant serenity swirling through him. Then Pepper clapped her hands, straightening. “Alright, off to bed with you,” she commanded, and Jay gave her a disbelieving look.
“It’s not even midnight, like hell am I going to bed right now,” he retorted, and Pepper frowned at him.
“You have meetings with R&D and other various departments all morning, and you’re meeting with the Board tomorrow, and I refuse to deal with either the half-asleep, constantly yawning and whining Jason Stark or with the wired, half-psycho, hopped up on caffeine Jason Stark during that meeting, which are the only two options I’ll have available if you’re not in bed at a reasonable hour,” she said sternly, crossing her arms. Jay rolled his eyes.
“Fine, I promise I’ll get in bed before 4,” he said. When she gave him a dubious look, he rolled his eyes and held up one hand. “Scout’s honor,” he said sarcastically, and now Pepper was the one rolling her eyes.
“3,” she bargained, then raised an eyebrow at his pout. “3 a.m., Jay, and then you better be in bed. And I will be asking FRIDAY if you upheld your end of the bargain tomorrow,” she warned him, then waved and left the lab.
Jay worked for a while, tinkering with a few of the designs he was planning to show the Board and just generally trying to settle his mind down. FRIDAY pinged him at 2:30, and Jay sighed, tearing himself out of what he was working on reluctantly.
“FRI, shut down the lab for me, please,” he called as he walked out, taking the elevator to their communal floor. The floor was silent, its residents having long since gone to bed. He ducked quietly into his room, hopping in for a quick shower, toweling off, and sliding on a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He eyed the bed dubiously before slipping in; it was the first time he’d gone to bed on purpose in a while, typically choosing to just pass out in the middle of what he was tinkering with on whatever soft surface was nearby. Reaching out with Extremis, he flicked the lights off and waited.
And waited, and waited.
After what felt like hours but was, in reality, probably only about 30 minutes, he sighed heavily and slid out of the bed, heading blearily for the kitchen. Maybe he could try milk? People always said that made them sleepy, something about some sort of magic chemical compound milk had.
Stepping into the kitchen, he mentally flipped on a couple of lights so the room was bathed in a soft glow – and promptly froze, heart leaping in his chest at the sight of a figure he hadn’t seen staring at him calmly. “Natasha,” he greeted her evenly, once his heart had started to settle.
“Jay,” she returned with a small smile, the picture of casual ease in a long, soft sweater that had slipped off one shoulder with a cup of steaming tea in hand as she leaned against the counter. “What are you doing up so late, zvyozdochka?”
He stepped further into the kitchen, moving towards the fridge. “Couldn’t sleep,” he responded, opening the door and pulling out the milk carton. “You?”
“The same,” she hummed, eyeing him curiously as he set the carton down and opened the cabinet to grab a glass, pouring it half full before returning the carton to the fridge. “Milk?” she questioned, and Jay shrugged sheepishly.
“Everyone says it helps with sleep,” he explained, and the barest hint of a smile teased at her lips.
“So does tea,” she pointed out, “and tea has the advantage of seeming a little less…juvenile.”
Jay gasped in mock-offense. “And just what are you insinuating?” he demanded, taking a sip of the milk and staring her down over the rim of the glass.
“Well, I don’t call you little star for no reason,” she responded, eyes twinkling with mirth, and it was an expression he hadn’t seen in so long that it threw him a little. For a moment, it was like they were Tony and Natasha again, like she was once more the person on the team he’d felt understood him the best, bullshit personality profiles aside. She’d known his need to prove himself and give people what they wanted, she’d explained later, and had believed saying he was ‘not recommended’ would only make him work all the harder. And she’d been right overall, hadn’t she? Howard had instilled that desire to show people that he was worth something, to earn approval, to be someone worth looking at since his first circuit board at age four had earned nothing more than a quick glance followed by a grunt of acknowledgment and an instruction to set up a press conference.
Natasha had seen that and tried to work it to her advantage, and even if it had fallen laughably short on the Tony Stark Manipulation Tactics success scale, she’d still seen him. And he liked to think he’d seen her, too, on the many nights they’d stayed up late together, talking about the people they’d killed, the red in their ledgers, their mutual wish, hope, dream to scrub that red away. They understood each other, so much so that, after just a few months of working together, they’d been able to take one look at the other and know if it was a bad day, if it was the kind of bad day that required company or isolation, and what words would help take some of the sting of horrific memories away. Which was why it had hurt so much when she’d turned her back on him in Germany, when she’d thrown his ego in his face like he hadn’t been lying down and letting Ross stomp all over him in the hopes that he could keep his team, his family together.
Belatedly, Jay realized he’d probably been silent a little too long. “Hey, I am not little,” he insisted indignantly, echoing his original protest and trying to throw extra heat into the words to cover the lapse. But the Widow was perceptive, of course, and she eyed him thoughtfully.
“You haven’t asked me why I call you ‘little star’,” she noted, and Jay schooled his expression into something neutral.
“I thought maybe it had something to do with my dad going through a wormhole into space in New York when you first met,” he lied smoothly, and she cocked her head.
“That’s not when I first met your father, actually. I worked for him for a while at SI. Did he ever tell you about that? Or Pepper or Happy?” she asked, and though her voice was casual, Jay couldn’t help the feeling that he was being slowly cornered. He appeared to think for a moment.
“Oh yeah, I think someone may have mentioned that,” he said, assuming a thoughtful expression. “You were undercover there, right? It’s hard to remember – he told me so many stories over the year I knew him.”
And Natasha’s expression was still casual, but Jay thought (hoped) he saw some of the sharp, curious edges relax. She nodded. “I was. I’d been sent there to evaluate him for recruitment to the Avengers. Your dad – he was going through a lot at the time, but he was still doing his best to take care of all the people he cared about and make sure the world would still have defenders if he died.”
God, yeah, Jay remembered that shitshow like it was yesterday. Palladium to the chest, painful way to die, Vanko’s voice echoed in his mind, and Jay had to push down a bitter snort. Painful, but not the most painful way, in the end.
“He had the arc reactor embedded in his chest at the time – but I’m sure you know that,” Natasha continued, inclining her head at Jay. “I told him once that it was like he’d captured a star and put it inside him. Amazing, impossible, and untouchable – that was your father.”
“If only,” slipped out before Jay could censor himself, and Natasha’s eyes snapped to his, questioning. He shook his head, but her inquiring look didn’t cease, so he gritted his teeth. “Not so untouchable there at the end, was he?” he said, the bitterness overtaking his tone more than he wanted, and Natasha flinched.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Jay waved her apologies away.
“No, no, my fault. I thought I was over the…anger, but it seems like everything’s come back to the surface,” he said, avoiding her eyes and taking another sip of the milk. God, he could use a scotch for this particular turn in the conversation.
“That’s understandable,” Natasha said softly, looking down at her cup. “You’d just started to move past it, and now you’re having to give interviews about it and step into all the roles Tony used to take and…and see us every day, after what happened to your father.” Her voice cut off, and Jay startled; he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a Natasha who was genuinely sad. Guilty, yes – but sad? Grieving? That was new, and he could think of no reason for her to fake such emotion, nothing that it would gain her that she didn’t already have.
“I don’t blame you – any of you,” Jay said, his tone tentative but gentle, surveying Natasha carefully as he leaned against the counter opposite her. “I know what the witch is capable of – I mean, my dad told me about how she influenced him with Ultron, after all,” he quickly tried to recover, carefully keeping his tone even. “You didn’t have a choice, and you couldn’t have stopped yourself from giving her what she wanted. It wasn’t your fault.”
Natasha looked up at him, and he was shocked to see the depth of pain, of anguish, of hope at his words, a tidal wave of emotion that Jay was ashamed to admit he hadn’t realized the Widow capable of, not when it came to him, at least. “But I betrayed him, in the end,” she whispered. “After everything – I knew that’s what would hurt him most. He already had trust issues after people had used him his whole life, after Stane, and I did that to him. And then I turned around and threw words in his face about his character that I knew weren’t true, the other thing that I knew would hurt him. We’d had so many talks, we understood each other so well, and both of us knew what it was like not to be seen for who we are but to be judged for what we were or what people thought we were. He had so few people in his life who could see him, and I was one of those, and I threw bullshit in his face because I knew it would hurt him.”
And she sounded so heartrendingly broken that Jay put down his glass and stepped forward, tentatively reaching out and taking one of Natasha’s hands, the one that wasn’t gripping the tea cup like a lifeline. She looked down at their entwined hands, then back at him, her expression betraying her surprise. “Astra inclinant, sed non obligant. The witch bound you, Natasha, you are not at fault for that. She wanted you to hurt my dad because she wanted to hurt my dad, and she got into your head and used your knowledge of him to make you do it in a way that would hurt the most. But she doesn’t have you bound anymore – you’re free, you can make your own decisions, and you can move past this. He would want you to move past this.”
She stared at him for a long moment, expression switching between a swirl of pain and a desperate desire to believe him, before finally nodding. Jay smiled softly at her and released her hand, stepping out of her space and picking his drink back up to take another sip. “What was that you said at the beginning? In another language?” she asked, and Jay had to think for a moment.
“Oh! It’s a Latin expression I heard – astra inclinant, sed non obligant. It means – “
“The stars incline us, they do not bind us,” Natasha murmured, and he smiled.
“I thought it was fitting – a quote about free will now that you’ve had your own restored to you,” he said, and she nodded thoughtfully, then glanced at him.
“Why Latin?”
“Well, you speak Latin, don’t you? Even if it is a dead language,” he responded, smiling cheekily, and she blinked at him, her expression startled then calculating, before it went carefully blank. Jay mentally frowned, wondering at it, then shrugged; the conversation had worn him out, and he found himself thinking longingly of his bed. “Well, I think I’m starting to actually feel sleepy, so I’m gonna head back to my room,” he said with an easy smile, pouring out the rest of his glass and sticking it in the dishwasher. “Goodnight, Natasha.”
“Goodnight, Jay,” she murmured, still watching him with contemplative eyes. He turned to leave the room, making it nearly out of the kitchen when she called out. “Jay?”
He turned, giving her a quizzical look. “Yeah?”
“Did you mean what you said yesterday, about Tony?” she asked. Then, when he continued to look puzzled, she continued, her voice strangely strained but serious. “Do you really believe he’d forgive us?”
Jay looked at her, unable to read the expression on her face but sensing her need for a sincere answer. “Yeah. Yeah, I really do,” he responded finally, firmly. And she hesitated, then gave him a small nod which he returned before turning back and continuing his walk to his room.
He could feel her eyes on him as he walked away.
“I swear to God, Jay, if you do not stop yawning,” Pepper snapped, flicking him irately in the back of the limo.
“I’m sorry! It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose,” Jay said crossly, and Pepper only looked at him, unimpressed.
“If you had gone to bed when I told you to, like you promised, you wouldn’t be yawning at all!”
“Hey, FRIDAY told you I went to bed when I said I would, it’s not my fault I couldn’t fall asleep!” Jay said defensively, crossing his arms. “I even actively tried to make myself sleepier by drinking milk – milk, Pepper! That’s gotta be my quota of healthy foods for the year!”
“Jay, milk isn’t even a food,” Pepper said exasperatedly, giving him an unimpressed look, though her lips twitched as though she was hiding a smile.
“Fine, sustenance-type-thing – a thing that contained calories. I put something of nutritional value in my body, Pep, you should be proud of me,” Jay told her, and she just rolled her eyes.
“And I thought adult Tony had no ability to take care of himself,” she muttered, and he stuck his tongue out at her. “Just remember, don’t give them too many specifics on how well you knew Tony and distract them with designs first before you bring up what kind of role you want to have at SI.”
“Yes, Mom,” Jay said with a roll of his eyes as the limo came to a stop in front of SI. “I am a genius, you know, I still remember those instructions from when you said them twenty minutes ago.”
“Well, I wasn’t entirely sure whether or not you’d remember, since your little baby brain hasn’t entirely finished developing yet,” she said sweetly, then opened the door and stepped out before Jay could respond. He stared after her, mouth open and prepared to call after her huffily, but he had to abandon that particular plan fairly quickly when he caught sight of the paparazzi huddled on the steps to the building.
“Oh goodie, nothing like a morning wrestling-slash-dodgeball match to get your blood pumping before an important day of meetings,” he muttered to himself, pasting on a congenial smile as he stepped out of the limo. Pepper was already halfway to the front door, the reporters snapping photos of her as she walked but maintaining the semblance of distance. But as soon as Jay stepped out, all the cameras snapped to him, and lightbulbs went off again and again, people shouting questions. Jay just kept his smile easy and gave a few waves, not engaging as he made his way to the front door, letting out a sigh of relief when he was blessedly ensconced safely inside.
Pepper fell into step beside him as they made their way through SI, employees staring as they went. It was like that pretty much all day; everyone was very friendly in the meetings, polite to a fault and doing their utmost to make the Stark heir feel at ease and welcome, but it was so different from how he was normally received that it made him feel itchy. It took him a while to pinpoint why he was feeling so out of sorts – after all, he’d had all eyes on him since he was a child, and this was really no different. Except that it was. He’d always known what people wanted from him as Tony Stark – his money, his fame, his gadgets, his favors. But as Jason Stark? Well, he had all of those things still, but people didn’t know him well enough to know how he’d use them. They looked at him now like they were trying to figure him out instead of like they knew who he was, and it was so very…different, and it made his skin crawl to see them eye him calculatingly.
Jay found himself weirdly relieved when they were finally walking into the Board’s meeting room, their last stop of a busy day. With the Board, at least, he knew what they wanted from him – and, even better, he was ready to give it to them. It put him on more familiar grounds, and he was glad of it. So with a winsome smile and confidence he didn’t have, he started the meeting.
Thankfully, it went off without a hitch, the Board members pleased and impressed by all that he was bringing to the table for them. When he and Pepper exited the meeting room two hours later, it was to the eager handshakes and welcoming grins of a pack of men who saw dollar signs where he stood. And that was alright with him – that was exactly where he needed them, after all.
“Good job in there, Jay,” Pepper complimented him once they were safely in the backseat of the limo again, the sun just starting to set as they headed away from SI at last.
“What? What was that? I’m awesome and you will never underestimate my ability to perform well on what mere mortals deem too little sleep again?” Jay asked, cupping a hand around his ear and leaning in. Pepper shoved him gently on the shoulder, snorting.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet you suffer me anyway,” Jay grinned.
The ride back to the Compound was blessedly filled with overall positive recaps, Pepper analyzing the way the heads of different departments had interacted with Jay and how they could turn each of them to their advantage. Jay mostly listened and let Pepper work her magic; he’d known from the moment that he’d stumbled on Pepper, an assistant in his accounting department, chewing out the head of said department after he’d acted dismissively towards her when she’d noticed an error in his math, that he’d found someone extremely special. But she’d far exceeded any expectations he could’ve possibly had, and he was wickedly pleased that he’d been the one whose company she’d decided to apply to – because now he had one of the best, smartest, most badass CEOs in the entire world, a woman who could make Nick Fury quake under his eyepatch if she so chose, at the helm of his multinational company. And that meant he got to spend his time doing the stuff he actually liked to do in his lab without the company suffering. Yeah, he’d gotten lucky as hell.
Thankfully, Pepper didn’t seem to notice that his mind had wandered off from the company-related topics she was still discussing as they pulled up in front of the Compound. He tuned back in, though, when he realized she was going over his to-do list.
“The Captain gave me the team’s training schedule for the month, so I won’t be seeing you tomorrow or Friday. Thursday, we should see about setting up an interview for you – we’ve gotten a lot of requests already, and it would be good for the company if we could keep up your good press,” Pepper rattled off, looking at the tablet in her hand instead of him. He started to open his mouth to respond, but she continued, “Also, next week we need to think about how you want to start revamping the Avengers’ public image. You still have your original Avengers P.R. team on staff, and they’ve been working on a couple of angles for you to review when you get a chance.” He waited, but she looked up to meet his eyes.
“Will that me all, Miss Potts?” he asked with a wry smile. She smirked.
“That’ll be all, Mr. Stark,” she responded, and he grinned and leaned in to kiss her lightly on the cheek.
“Have a safe trip home, then. And don’t work too late!” he ordered, sliding out of the backseat.
“Like you’re one to talk!” she called as he shut the door. He waved as the limo drove off, shaking his head and smiling as he turned to go inside the Compound. He made immediately for his room, stripping off the suit and tie that he’d been forced into all day and slipping on sweats and a tee.
“FRI, what time is it?” he asked.
“It is 8:02 p.m., Boss. It has been approximately twelve and a half hours since you last ate. May I recommend you head to the kitchen?” she responded, her voice only slightly judgmental.
“Recommend away, baby girl,” he snarked, but walked into the hallway, shoulders slumping as the craziness of the day and the night of little sleep finally started weighing on him. He stumbled into the kitchen, having a strange moment of déjà vu from the previous night at the sight of Steve leaning against the counter, mug of something steaming in hand.
“Mr. Stark – I mean Jay,” Steve greeted him, startled.
“Hi, Steve, how are you?” Jay asked politely, moving towards the fridge. “FRI, what do we have that I can eat?”
“Vision made a casserole the last time he visited that is currently in the freezer,” she answered, and Jay frowned at her.
“I said something I can eat, FRI, not something I can use to play Russian Roulette with my life.”
“I made chicken and waffles earlier tonight. There are leftovers in the fridge, if you want them,” Steve offered, and Jay turned and blinked at him.
“Chicken and waffles? Isn’t that kind of unhealthy for Captain America? That kind of food goes straight to your ass,” he said, lips turning up in amusement at Steve’s flustered expression.
“Yeah, and that’s America’s ass, so you better take care of it, Stevie,” came a familiar drawl, and Steve’s face went beet red as they turned to see James saunter into the kitchen, smirking. Jay was very astutely Not Noticing how hot it was when James had that slightly-devious, slightly-dangerous smirk on his face while all dressed down in sweats that rode low on his hips and a shirt that was probably a size too small goddammit, who let him dress like that?
“James,” Steve scolded, mortified, and Jay snickered, then froze when James turned on him.
“Don’t think you’re getting off so easy, junior, I heard FRIDAY say you haven’t eaten in over twelve hours,” James said, folding his arms and staring him down.
“Wha – FRI!” Jay turned to her, the traitor.
“I didn’t tell him, Boss,” she said defensively.
“Super hearing,” James grinned, and Jay grumbled about super soldiers and how fucking annoying their superior everything was, stubbornly overlooking the fact that he himself had those exact same abilities. James ignored him, pointing at a stool. “Sit,” he commanded, and Jay sat. Now it was Steve’s turn to snicker.
“Like you wouldn’t have immediately sat America’s ass down if he used that voice on you, too,” Jay muttered.
“Stevie, where did you say you put the leftovers?” James asked, moving further into the kitchen, and Steve set down his mug, ears pink from Jay’s statement.
“They’re in the fridge,” he responded, and James stalked over with an easy grace, pulling the door open and searching. Steve joined him, leaning slightly into his space, and Jay’s eyes followed them, a little bit mesmerized by the easy way Steve laid a hand on James’s shoulder, the quicksilver smile James gave him in return when he pointed out the leftovers.
Fuck, he needed to get some sleep.
He shook himself out of his thoughts – they’re work colleagues and friends, and he was just sleep deprived and working with the hormones of a 21-year-old boy – man – living in a house full of annoyingly attractive people.
“Miss FRIDAY, is there any syrup left? We used the last of one of the bottles earlier,” Steve asked, breaking Jay out of his reverie.
“Third cabinet from the left, top shelf,” FRIDAY responded.
“Thank you,” he said politely, moving toward the cabinet as James moved towards the microwave. The duo prepared the reheated dinner with a ridiculous efficiency, coordinated in their movements in the kitchen as they’d been in the battlefield – a thought that looped Jay’s tired mind to Germany, then Siberia, and he noped his way out of there real fast.
“Dinner’s ready,” James declared when the microwave went off, laying the plate down in front of Jay. The ex-assassin set the syrup beside the plate, then slid back to the other side of the counter to grab a fork and knife, quickly opening the fridge for one last ingredient before setting everything neatly in front of Jay.
“Whipped cream?” Jay asked delightedly, grinning.
“James, that much sugar before bed – “ Steve started, his Captain America Disapproves expression pulling up, but James smirked at him.
“Please, Stevie, like we didn’t eat way worse than that right before bed at his age,” he countered, and Steve looked both disapproving and hopeful, eyes lighting up the way they tended to when James remembered anything of their shared past.
Jay took advantage of Steve’s distraction to apply liberal amounts of syrup and then squirt a metric shit ton of whipped cream on top. The duo turned to look at him at the loud sound of the Reddi-Whip container, and he grinned impishly over the impressive white mountain he’d made.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Steve said with a sigh, leaning onto his elbows against the counter. James clapped him on the back and snickered.
“Just be glad he’s eating,” he advised.
“Hey, I’m right here,” Jay complained – or tried to, through his mouthful of waffle. James smirked, leaning forward and reaching out. Jay’s eyes widened as James got closer, then his nose scrunched when James bopped it with his finger.
“You had some whipped cream on your nose, kotenok,” he said easily, leaning back out of Jay’s space.
“Kitten? Really?” Jay asked, startled by the word Extremis pinged him with, uncertain whether to be offended or…well, he wasn’t really sure what alternative emotion he should feel. James only smiled serenely at him, appearing entirely disinclined to explain. But Jay pressed. “Why am I ‘kitten’?”
James shrugged, grinning. “You made the cutest little scrunchy face when I touched your nose, like a little kitten, kotenok.” And now Steve was snickering, shoulder shaking.
“Don’t infantilize me!” Jay said, affronted. “I’m 21! I’m legal drinking age, I’m not a kitten!” But now they were both snickering at him.
So Jay did the only rational thing a 21-year-old not-kitten could do in his situation: he aimed the Reddi-Whip bottle at them and sprayed.
Two shocked super soldiers with little fluffy patches of white scattered in their hair and sliding down their faces stared at him.
“Stevie, I think kotenok wants war,” James said conversationally, keeping eye contact with Jay.
“It sure seems like that, James,” Steve agreed, also staring at Jay, who was beginning to very much regret his decisions in life.
“Oh god, I don’t want to die this way,” he whispered. He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, laughing nervously. “Come on now, guys, I’m sure we can resolve this peacefully. No need for any whipped cream-related violence,” he assured them, sliding slowly off the stool as the duo split around the counter and stalked steadily toward him from either side.
“Aw, come now, little kotenok, we just want to have some fun,” James crooned, giving him the least-comforting smile Jay had ever seen.
“Yeah, Jay, we just want to share the love,” Steve reassured him with an unforgiving grin.
Ooooh this was not going to end well for him. “FRIDAY, save me!” he yelped, making to run for the hallway as the two converged on him.
Twenty minutes and one whipped-cream-and-syrup-covered kitchen later and the three were collapsed into a giggling, gummy heap in the middle of the floor, having called a truce once their feet started sticking to the tile enough that movement became difficult. The giggles died down as they slowly caught their breaths and began to take stock of the kitchen.
“So I say we shower off and pretend like we were never here,” Jay said conversationally.
“Deal,” James and Steve both said, and the three slunk out of the kitchen to their rooms to dispose of the evidence.
Jay woke up to a startled shout the next morning.
“What the FUCK happened to the kitchen?”