Chapter One

For Ryan Matthews, a life-long lover of comics, getting an internship working under Director Fury for SHIELD had seemed like a dream come true.

But now he wasn't so sure.

Because while he loved the idea of working with superheroes, he also loved the idea of keeping his head, and he wasn't sure if the two could coexist for much longer.

Ryan knew that Director Fury had already had a bad day (although it was only nine in the morning). First, the coffee machine had broken. Second, a leak had caused some issues in the labs which ended in Dr. Banner getting his Hulk on, and, similarly, several thousand dollars' worth of damages. Then, a new agent unwisely attempted to wake Agent Romanoff from a catnap, resulting in injuries severe enough to warrant a trip to the ER.

And now, Tim, the security officer with the morning shift at the front desk, had called to tell him the redhead was back.

Which meant that Ryan had the decidedly unpleasant job of informing Fury of the current situation, because, according to protocol, any loiterers who returned for more than a week in succession had to be reported to the head agent.

Never before had he been so tempted to throw the rulebook to the wind.

Knocking hesitantly on the doorframe, Ryan wondered why he hadn't taken Agent Williams' advice and drawn up a will.

Fury glared at him expectantly.

Ryan gulped.

"Sir, there's a, uh, situation."

Don't look at the eye patch don't look at the eye patch don't look at the eye patch shit! You just had to look, didn't you? Did he see you?

Fury's eye narrowed to a slit.

Yeah, yeah he saw you. Nice knowing you man. Nice knowing you, too, Ryan responded to the voice in his head, before deciding that he should also consider taking up his mother's suggestion to see a shrink.

Assuming that he, you know, survives the next few minutes.

Focusing on Director Fury again, Ryan realized that Fury was reaching for something in his desk.

Oh shit, the gun! No, no, no, no, this was not how this was supposed to go. He's only nineteen, for christssake!

Ryan put up his hands defensively.

"Hold on there, sir—no need for weapons," he stammered, before adding a rather pathetic "please?"

"Maybe if you informed me of the situation instead of blabbering on, I could decide that for myself. And sit down, dammit, all your twitching is making me nervous."

Ryan did as he was told.

"There's a redheaded young woman who's been loitering outside of SHIELD for several hours every day for a week now, requesting entry."

"That's it?"

Ryan nodded, feeling rather stupid all of a sudden.

"Yessir, you see protocol says—"

"I know the protocol." Fury snorted. "I wrote the motherfucking protocol."

"Begging your pardon, sir. But what would you like me to do about the redhead?"

"Send her to Coul—" Fury began to reply automatically before remembering that Agent Coulson was dead. The little shit (may he rest in peace) was probably looking down on him and laughing.

Then, all of a sudden, inspiration hit him.

"Tell her to come back tomorrow. Also, get Agent Stark on the phone for me."

"Tony Stark?"

"Is that not what I said?

"Uh, yes, sir. I'll get to it right away."

And with that, Ryan left, deciding to get away before he managed to say anything else idiotic.

"No."

"It really isn't up to you, Tony."

Tony Stark put down the iPad he was reading to rub his temples.

"Uh, yeah, Pepper, it really is."

"I've already made my decision, Tony. I was just being courteous and letting you know."

"Pepper…"

"Don't you 'Pepper' me. It's not like I'm leaving, Tony. I'm just doing my job times six. Except, not really, because Nicholas told me you're by far the worst."

Pepper stood in front of him defiantly, her hands on her hips. Looking up at the scowl on her face, he knew he so wasn't getting any that night. Not even thirteen percent, like he did that other time.

"Hold up, Nicholas? As in Fury?"

Pepper nodded exasperatedly.

Nicholas. That was even worse than calling Coulson 'Phil'. Maybe he should try that one out himself. But only with the suit on, because dying was so not part of the plan.

"Only you," Tony finally said, before continuing. "Need I remind you, though, of what happened to Coulson?"

"First of all, Tony, Loki is on Asgard receiving his punishment—as you already knew."

Tony smiled fondly at the memory. After teaching Thor to use a camera without breaking it (it took a while), he had gone to Asgard and taken photographs of Loki, his lips sewn shut, his hands and feet in shackles, looking like a macabre statue (he even had the coloration of marble—dude could seriously use a tan). Tony hung his copy of the photograph in a place of honor (removing, much to Pepper's displeasure, a painting from her beloved Modern Art Collection done by Francis Something-or-other which had hung there previously. It was a seriously creepy painting too—he wouldn't miss it. Or actually, he didn't get a chance to miss it, because Pepper had hung it up in their bedroom in retaliation.)

"Thirdly, I would only be taking up some of Phil's responsibilities. The non-dangerous ones. Like filling out reports and filing and all the things I do already."

Oh shit. Pepper was still talking. What had her second point been? Damn, he hoped there wasn't a quiz after this.

"Lastly, it would only be temporary. One of my responsibilities would be helping SHIELD find a suitable permanent replacement for Phil."

"But Pepper—"

"Were you even listening to me?"

"Yes."

Okay, even he didn't think that sounded convincing.

"Enough to get the gist of it," he amended.

"Then why are you still arguing with me?"

"Because, Pepper—"

The woman in question threw up her hands in frustrated defeat and moved to leave the room.

"Fine then, Tony. But you get to fill out your own reports from now on."

Tony could hear her heels clicking against the marble floors of the hallway.

"Wait, reports? What reports? Pepper? I think I might have changed my mind. Pepper?"

He quickly got up from his desk and went running after her.

Fighting moody Gods of Mischief and alien armies was one thing but paperwork was one thing that Tony Stark just did not do.

AN: This fic will have a sequel (already in the works), dealing with Coulson's replacement. He is a character familiar, I am sure, to many of you. So we're going to play a little guessing game. Leave a guess of who Coulson's replacement is in your review, and if you get it right, I'll PM you to let you know and you'll get a shoutout in the next chapter. But, to keep it interesting, let's limit it to one guess per review. Each chapter will also contain a hint. This chapter's hint:

He is not a character from the Marvel Universe or any other comic.

So guess away!