For reasons that he did not wish to elaborate on, explore, explain, or even think about, Anthony Stark was currently on the wrong side of a containment door aboard the SHIELD helicarrier. On the other side sat all of his equipment, as well as a packet of blueberries he'd hoped to consume by now. Also his wallet.
He had spent the last fifteen minutes studying the door in detail, staring at it, his mind taking in every inch of its surface area, examining each panel and connecting point. Five minutes passed as he studied the keypad, wondering if he could do that thing he'd seen in the movies where you throw a handful of powder on it and figure out the password by the fingerprints. This was scuttled when he remembered you needed keycards as well, and his was in his wallet.
By the end of his examinations, Tony Stark had reached four conclusions. One was that however SHIELD managed to get a giant aircraft carrier/airborne base of operations constructed, they clearly hadn't spent more than, say, three percent of that on the doors. Another was that he was thirsty. The third was that he was bored. And the last was that, however long he had to stand in front of this door, he was not going to find someone to help him get past it.
Dr. Banner would never let him live it down.
At that point, fortune smiled on Tony Stark, as he heard footsteps approach. He half-turned, and saw Agent Coulson's familiar receding hairline coming closer.
"Stark?" the agent asked, looking at him as he came to an abrupt start. "What are you doing here?"
"I was examining this door," Tony replied. "You think they got it built on-site when they had this thing put together or did they have it brought in?" NOT telling him I'm stuck. I'll bring Bruce over here and call his mother names if I have to, but NOT going to owe Coulson a favor.
Coulson just looked at him, then to the door, before asking, "Did you leave your wallet in the lab again?"
"...it was stolen. Stolen! Can you believe that? I thought you people did background checks."
"I thought we told you, even if you just use the bathroom, keep your ID and your card on hand, Stark."
"You'd think even in a restricted area a man can take a pee break without having to prove his own identity a dozen times – WHAT is this world coming to..."
At this point, the agent turned away (much to Tony's irritation – he was just getting started!), took his own keycard out of his pocket, and swiped it through the door, beginning to punch in the code. As he did, however, his ID card fell out of his pocket, and he muttered what, as far as Tony could tell, sounded like a "Darn". He even swore like a TV stereotype.
Tony knelt and picked it up – no need to antagonize Coulson when he was about to get him through the door – and then stopped and took a closer look. There was something... out of place. Very out of place.
Picture looked right – balding, slightly jowly, dumb expression. Eye color... didn't know that. Date of birth – there it was.
"This can't be right," Tony mumbled.
In the middle of punching in the password, Coulson stopped and turned, seeing Tony with his ID for the first time. "You know those are technically classified documents?"
"And that's supposed to stop me how? Anyway, not the point..." He spun the card around between thumb and forefinger, tapping the birth date. "That's only twenty-two years ago. Twenty-two years? Seriously, Coulson? You can't be under forty-eight if you're a day. You could be my dad in some strange alternate universe where I grew up to be the Beaver."
There was about ten seconds of awkward silence – Tony marked them off in his head – before Coulson snatched his ID out of his hand, stuffed it back in his breast pocket, and then muttered, "It's true."
For possibly the first time in his professional life, Tony Stark didn't have a smart comeback.
"Look, this is a high-stress job, right? SHIELD recruited me right out of high school – details of that are still classified, and I mean REALLY classified, not 'break into them with five seconds and a high-end PC'. I've seen more weird stuff out there in the last six years than you probably believe exists. That sort of thing ages a guy pretty badly."
At that point, Coulson fumbled in his pants pocket, retrieving his own wallet. After a few seconds during which Tony was fairly certain he was about to tear the lining, he got it free and opened it, showing off one of the pictures in it. It showed a high school student, standing on stage in full cap and gown, claiming his diploma. Oddly enough, his hairline was already pulling back.
The age signs were absent, but it was clearly Coulson... and the photo had the lack of effects that signified it was printed off a digital camera.
"...well, shit," Tony muttered. "You were always that bald?"
"Runs in the family. None of the Coulson males have had hair past puberty for years." Coulson put his wallet away and then added, "You think I've got it bad, you should see Barton and Romanov."
Tony's train of thought hit a penny on the tracks. "What about them?"
"Barton's only sixteen, for one."
"Okay, now you're just screwing with my head."
"Look up his records. Took him out of special ops training in a militia camp we busted a couple years back. Hell, he looked even older back then."
That rang a bell, and Tony thought back through the news for a few years. The story popped up, and he shuddered at the thought of what had to have happened to turn a sixteen-year-old into that. "And Natasha?"
"Twelve. She started working with us when she was eight years old."
The hallway filled with complete, dead silence, as Tony Stark stared at Agent Coulson with a blank expression, best described as "shock" (though words cannot really sum it up). Finally, he asked, "What have you been feeding her?"
Coulsen shook his head and walked away, muttering something about "Russian scientists".
By the time he regained himself, Tony Stark heard a beeping coming from the keypad. He spun around to see the numbers flashing red.
Only then did he realize he was still stuck outside the door.
He sighed and went to look for Steve.