I'm doing a prompt giveaway/thank you event over on tumblr because I've reached a follower milestone. Basically, you guys send me prompts for whatever you like and I'll fill them. It can be a request for anything I've already written or even something new in a fandom I've mentioned or I've reblogged. A list of fandoms I've been involved in (even if only peripherally) can be found on my profile if you scroll down a little.
This prompt was requested by doxblogsstuff (Adoxerella). Basically just a request for something with Jarvis and the kids with Gabriel/Tony. It could've been longer, but then I wasn't sure how much longer it would get so I decided to call it safe and stop when I was ahead.
This is set in-between the two Iron Man movies, meaning only the kids know who Gabriel really is.
The Last Archangel: A Minor Christmas Story: In which Gabriel has forgotten it's almost Christmas, Jarvis has trouble with facial expressions, and Butterfingers is particularly fond of pink.
The Last Archangel: A Minor Christmas Story
"Tony, Tony, Tony! Look what I got! Look!" Butterfingers ran in, almost bowling over You in her eagerness, and came to an abrupt stop in front of Tony. She twirled several times. "Look!"
Tony's hands were in mid-air, fingers frozen in the motion of tweaking the engine of a car. He was too busy staring at Butterfingers. "It's very pink," he finally managed.
Butterfingers deflated. "You don't like it?"
"That's not it," Tony said hastily, sensing an impending meltdown. "Do you…like pink?"
Butterfingers pouted and pointed behind him to where her robotic body rested in its charging station. It was surrounded by all sorts of pink things.
"Point," Tony said. He looked down at her, dressed in a very pink and frilly dress that had Pepper's hand all over it. He cleared his throat. "Give me a twirl?"
Butterfingers obliged, grinning toothily. "Well?" she demanded.
"Lovely," Tony said, not entirely lying. It was too pink and frilly for his tastes, reminding him far too much of Louis XIV's fashion habits. That had been an enjoyable century…
Butterfingers didn't seem to notice his preoccupation. "Pepper bought it!"
"Wheeee!" Dummy bolted in, tripping over You and flying into Butterfingers, toppling both of them over.
"Ow!" You didn't seem at all pleased by this turn of events. He had been rather happily tinkering with an engine.
"Dummy!" Butterfingers whined, squirming under him. "Get off!"
Jarvis appeared at the door, eyebrows twitching slightly as he evidently tried to get his face to look disapproving; he ended up with a vaguely constipated expression. "I believe you said you would be able to handle them, sir?"
"You look a bit constipated, J," Tony said, watching Butterfingers and Dummy work themselves free.
Now Jarvis's lips turned downward. "That did not answer my question."
"You didn't ask one."
Jarvis looked rather frosty now (and what did that say about his youngest that that was the expression he'd had the least amount of trouble mastering?). "Sir."
Tony waved a hand, making a face when the motion messed up the engine calibrations on the holograph in front of him. "It was just You, and then Butterfingers came in with that"—he hesitated a split-second—"lovely dress, and Dummy ran in, tripping over You and knocking Butterfingers down. How is any of that my fault?"
"They are yours," Pepper said sweetly, stepping into view behind Jarvis.
"I never said I was good with children," Tony said.
"Then why did you make them bodies?"
Tony pretended to mull over his answer for a few seconds before offering, "Because I could?"
On cue, Pepper rolled her eyes, stepping into the workshop to go over to Butterfingers and help her pat down her dress. Dummy was pouting on the floor, arms folded across his chest.
It hadn't been because Gabriel could make real flesh-and-blood bodies (although that had been partly the reason). It was mainly because they were alive, and leaving actual souls in rather outdated robotic bodies didn't seem right. There was also the part where they had wanted the experience of feeling human; before anything – before he had even set Dummy up with picking out hair and eye colors – he had made sure that they wanted it.
And barring some mishaps because having a robotic body was entirely different from having a human body, it had gone swimmingly.
"May I ask what inspired this visit?" Tony asked.
Pepper shot him a blank look, giving Butterfingers's dress one last pat down before standing. "Christmas is a week off."
Taken aback at this statement, Tony squinted at the date at the uppermost corner of the holograph floating in front of him. "So it is."
Jarvis eyed him strangely. "Were you not aware of this?"
"I wasn't really paying attention," Tony admitted, flicking the holograph away.
"How unexpected," Pepper said. She whipped out a file and pushed it into Tony's hands. "Details on all the events you're expected to be at for the next week leading up to Christmas, and I've cleared your schedule for the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth, as well as New Years' Eve and Day." She shot him a significant look that he didn't need to be an archangel to understand.
"Do we have a tree?" Tony asked, peering at the inch-thick file.
"I have taken the liberty of ordering one, sir," Jarvis said.
"Rhodey and I will be here when it arrives," Pepper said, pulling out her phone. "Heaven forbid we leave you here alone to decorate it."
"Despite popular belief," Tony said, "I am not a pyromaniac."
"We know," Pepper said. "But as honorary godparents, we should be here for the kids' first Christmas."
With one last smile, Pepper turned on her heel and left. Tony was left staring after her with a rather stunned expression on his face.
It had been a remark Tony had thrown out in passing, but apparently they'd taken it entirely too seriously.
"I am going to regret this," Tony said, shooting a glance at the very pink dress Butterfingers was showing off to You.
"That would depend entirely on what ill-advised decision you have made, sir," Jarvis said primly. He took the file from Tony and flipped it open. "May I ask how you missed that it is almost Christmas?"
Gabriel pursed his lips. "Jesus Christ wasn't born in December, J. You know that. The occasion isn't anything we bother to keep track of."
"Dummy has plastered Christmas cards all over the house," Jarvis pointed out.
"I thought he was going through a phase."
Dummy slid over to Gabriel's feet, tugging at his pants and looking up at him with large brown eyes. "I want Christmas."
With a big put-upon sigh, Gabriel crouched down, picking Dummy up. He gently bopped his eldest's nose with his own. "You really want it?"
"Yeah!"
Butterfingers had a sly gleam in her eyes. "Can we have a pink tree?"
Gabriel stared down at her in horror.
Jarvis had absolutely no trouble keeping an excellent poker face. "My apologies, Butterfingers. There were no pink trees available to be ordered."
"I hate pink," You muttered in Chinese.
"You!" Butterfingers whirled on him, face flushed in anger.
You ducked behind Tony's legs, sticking his tongue out at his enraged sister. "Too much pink," he said pointedly.
"Tony!" Butterfingers pleaded, looking up at him.
"Uh…" Tony racked his brains for something to say. Usually he was the one starting fights, not resolving them. "Pink is a very lovely color, but there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. And a pink Christmas tree would be crossing the line."
Butterfingers looked dangerously close to bursting into tears.
"We can get a pink stocking!" Tony added hastily.
"Already done, sir," Jarvis said, looking far too pleased for his own good.
Dummy tugged lightly at a stray lock of Tony's hair. "Does Santa bring coal?" he asked seemingly randomly.
"There is no Santa," You said, looking at Dummy as if he was slow.
"Technically not quite true," Gabriel said slowly.
Jarvis looked intrigued. "Do tell, sir."
"I think the Winchesters might have ganked him by now…"
"Ganked?" Butterfingers asked.
"Killed," Dummy said all too gleefully.
Tony eyed him in trepidation. "I think that's enough of Rhodey's video games for you."
"I want a toolbox," You said, looking completely unperturbed at all discussion of killing a beloved childhood icon.
"I think I've entered the twilight zone," Tony said.
"Do tell, sir," Jarvis said, holding up a sheet of paper from the file Pepper had given him. "You are due at the Maria Stark Foundation's event tomorrow at ten."
Tony didn't flinch as You climbed up his back, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing his cheek against Tony's. "I get no respect."
"Pepper says respect's for adults," Butterfingers said wisely, tugging at Tony's sleeve in a silent question. "And you're not one."
"Really?" Tony shifted Dummy over to one side in order to make room for Butterfingers.
"At last count," Jarvis said idly, "you are an angel."
"Pepper says you're an overgrown man child who eats too much chocolate," Butterfingers said.
Tony made a face. "She found my secret stash?"
"Rhodey's been eating it since he found it," Dummy informed Tony.
"Oh, he has, has he?" Tony said. "I think I know what he's getting for Christmas."
"Coal?" You asked, breath tickling Tony's ear.
"Coal," Tony confirmed, a wicked glint in his eye. "Chocolate coal."
Jarvis looked disapprovingly at Tony, though the way his face was twisted now made it look like he wanted to beat something to death.
Before Tony could figure out a tactful way of saying that Jarvis really needed to work on his facial expressions, Dummy had beaten him to it by saying, "What do you want to kill?"
The murderous expression shifted to something vaguely sick. "Kill, Dummy?"
"Now you look sick," Butterfingers said.
Dummy pulled out a small compact mirror from his pants and offered it to Jarvis. "For practice."
"Why do you have that?" Tony asked, perplexed.
"Practice," Dummy repeated, giving him a broad grin.
After a few images of Dummy making faces at himself in a mirror ran through Tony's mind, he decided he didn't really want to know. When he looked at Jarvis again, he found his youngest staring down at the mirror with an unusually pensive expression.
"I'll leave you to it, shall I?" Tony said. "Internet's yours if you need help."
Jarvis's head snapped up, alarm written all over his face. "Sir—"
But Tony had already flitted off to the kitchen.
Standing in the middle of the gleaming room, he looked between the three expectant faces of his kids. "So…what do you want for Christmas?"
Thoughts?