To all that have come here from my other Tony fic - hello! I'm sorry for the long hiatus, but something happened in real life that distracted me from the internet quite a lot. I logged on yesterday and saw the hits and follows and was suitably ashamed, so have a fic with actual plot! Yeah!
"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. Coffee does not go in the waffle machine!"
The new bot droops its camera, mounted on a long shaft, in a general tone of shame. It waves back and forward.
Tony Stark, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, shakes his finger at it irritably. "No. No guilt, no guilt, I refuse to be guilted by a GoPro with wheels. I made you, and there is no excuse for you not to know the difference between the thing that makes coffee and the thing that makes waffles."
"This is an education," remarks Clint Barton to the world at large.
Tony, and the new bot, elect to ignore him.
The kitchen on the communal floor is a wreck, it truly is. Tony had knocked together a few spare parts while under the influence of several cans of energy drink and the high that comes with sassing Fury over a video call late last night. He'd been awake for the better part of the week and only kept going to knock the cigarette lighter away from his new creation before passing out underneath his workbench; when he woke up, a camera with wheels and Captain America were both prodding him nervously.
And so, Lighter was born.
Steve, humanitarian that he is, announced that Lighter was far too cute to be cooped up in Tony's workshop.
Tony argued that his workshop was hardly a cage, and that the three other bots managed just fine.
Steve scooped Lighter into his arms and said that the communal floor could do with a helping hand.
Tony whined that Lighter didn't even have arms, and if it was a hand he wanted, Steve had two perfectly functional ones attached to his arms by his wrists. So give me the bot, Rogers.
Steve ran for the door, and so Lighter had installed itself in the kitchen with little fuss, apart from the tiny detail of not knowing where anything went, how to use anything, or how to properly manage the robot limb Tony had fixed on. Great. Because he had so much time nowadays to spend telling idiotic robots how to do things.
"Seriously. Is this how you treat kids?" Clint continues, sliding his empty smoothie cup onto the kitchen island. "Lighter, go fetch."
Tony stands with a wince. His leg is still sore after last week's shoot-out. "I just think she could function so much better in my workshop. The bots down there have a hive mind, albeit a small one, and if she could just buzz around for a while to get used to existence and then I could introduce her here..."
"Sir, Lighter is attempting to put Agent Barton's glass down the drain," Jarvis says mildly from the walls.
Tony sags and trudges around the island to his bot, Clint snorting with laughter in his ears.
He's tired. That's the fault of most things these days, but even more than usual. SHIELD is on his case about him designing them new tech, lifesaving stuff that Tony can't just blow off. He's tried his best - honest, Fury, I did - but he isn't sure about any of it. More than usual, anyway. And his own company is yapping at his heels for something, anything to sell to the dumb public, like Tony isn't busting his ass Avenging, maintaining his damn suit, making stuff for SHIELD, and attending all his stupid galas and charity dinners.
He whipped off a new design last night to keep them happy, some sort of smart car that didn't need a driver. It should keep the blood-hunting investors off his back for a while, anyway.
"Jarvis? Hook up to Lighter, get her aligned with the kitchen models." Tony rocks back against the island and stifles a huge yawn, his neck burning from leaning over his workbench for several hours last night. This morning. Hm.
Clint yawns too. "Man, I'm beat. Nat's still in SHIELD, giving a review. Can you believe? We were in Dubai for two weeks, hadn't slept for, like, four days, Fury and Hill call us as soon as we get in and tell us to give a report. I noped the hell out of the headquarters."
"Nat will kill you," Tony tells him sincerely.
Clint sighs. "I know."
Behind them Lighter bumps into a cupboard on her way to a safe corner to communicate with Jarvis. Tony groans.
"Lighten up, man, or Steve'll make you do robot sensitivity training," is Clint's parting shot as he claps Tony on the back and sidles out of the kitchen. (Presumably because they hear Natasha coming up on the elevator.) (Or rather, Jarvis told them in low tones she was coming up on the elevator.)
Tony crumples on the kitchen island, a puppet with its strings cut, no audience to indulge in his pity-fest.
"Sir, I would recommend six to ten hours of sleep and vitamin supplements, which I have placed in the second drawer of your bedside locker," says Jarvis hopefully. Hah. Like Tony's going to do anything the healthy way, right?
Tony grunts at his butler. The last time he had taken Jarvis at his word and actually done what the AI said would be best for his health... the last time he'd done that was right after Afghanistan, when he was still as bedbound as the doctors could make him and drinking his weight in vitamin and mineral supplements. And look where that had got him. A sucker punch of a betrayal, right to the jaw.
"Sir, I really do think-"
Tony pulls himself up, holding on to the island for support. "Don't have time, Jarv. Is my tablet in the room?"
"Yes." The disapproval in the synthetic voice stings like hell, but Tony is adamant. He has to do something, and firing off a new weapons model should keep Fury sated for at least a week. Maybe something from that Bond movie he went to the premier of last week. Coulson, at the very least, would appreciate something like that, right? And in the week Fury's busy with the Bond gaget... In that time he can get the board of directors to leave with a better developed smart car, fix up the Iron Man suit, keep maintenance going on Steve's bike, and maybe grab a few hours in between.
And when he staggers into the adjoining room, the living space where at least one Avenger or super-powered Avenger-in-waiting would always be lounging, there's two of them. He wonders where the others are.
Today it's Natasha, lying with her head on the cushion, her back stretching up the seat, and Clint's neck between her ankles. Clint's swatting her knees and apologising between breaths; Natasha sipping a coffee calmly.
Oddly enough, this is quite a regular occurrence. (Not as common as Spiderman's habit of sleeping on the ceiling, which was that little more disturbing than the weird espionage flirting those two got up to.)
"Hi, Tony. There's a new bot," Natasha says coolly. She untangles her ankles and Clint falls over the back of the sofa, landing softly on a heap of pillows Natasha kicks under his head. Clint moans unintelligibly.
"There is." Tony looks around as Lighter rumbles smoothly from kitchen to his side. "Hey, Jarv, you got her calibrated all good?" Please, say yes. Tony can't deal with toddling robots today, not with the suit maintenance hanging over his head.
"There should be no more problems, sir."
Tony breathes a sigh of relief. "Thanks, buddy." Tony leans over and pats Lighter's smooth arm ball joint - in response the bot rolls back and forth and squeaks happily. Natasha smiles at her (the assassin always had a soft spot for Tony's bots) and downs the rest of her coffee in one gulp.
They sit in surprisingly comfortable silence. Tony opens a smaller version of the holograms in his workshop, spreads them across his knees and drops a few parts across the side of the armchair. Lighter wheels over to it, beeping questioningly; if Tony concentrates, he thinks could feel the hum of Jarvis answering the bot's internal questions.
Jarvis is probably telling Lighter all about what the bot can do to help out around the tower.
Hm.
Tony, for his part, opens four design specifications for various terrible, failed gadgets. His fingers drum on the case of his tablet. If he takes the design from this stun-grenade watch, and the laser from the Super Laser Pointer Pro (pointlessly make fun of your pets for hours!) and this resistor from this - whatever the hell this is, Tony thinks despairingly. Is it another product of too little sleep and too much artificial energy?
Probably.
But with a few flicks of his fingers, a Frankenstein of a James Bond tool sits in hologram form on his palm.
Tony beams at it. It'll keep Fury busy for a few days just trying to find out why the fuck Tony would design something this useless, and in that time he can fix his suit and get started on Steve's bike.
And he'll hopefully get to laugh at a SHIELD agent wearing a laser watch.
In fact, if this design ever gets past Fury's highly paranoid preliminary examinations, only Coulson and Clint would ever have the gall to wear something this tacky.
Tony pinches a resistor hologram and pulls it out of the blown-up design on his lap, tossing the little blue dot over the side of the armchair. Lighter beeps again, and again, Jarvis hums.
"It really is cute," Clint mumbles, wriggling around on the sofa so his face isn't smothered in Natasha's cushion heap. "When did you make it?"
"Made her last night. Wait, no, night before." It's disturbing, the amount of effort it takes to tick the clock back forty-eight hours. Steve crashing in, kidnapping his bot like an interfering war hero... Steve. "Hey, where are the others?"
Natasha prods the TV remote with her toe. Housewives of New Jersey starts playing, which is secretly one of Tony's favourite shows to watch when he's trying to pull a stupid all-weeker stunt. "I saw Steve in HQ when I was there on my own-" a small kick to Clint's head, a muffled protest - "I think Bruce mentioned something about a biology meet in Manhattan yesterday night. Thor's in his little palace. Pepper's in London trying to sell some of your shittier designs."
"Hm." Tony ignores the jab at his tech, an almost sibling rivalry he and Natasha have built, and rubs his temples. Why is Steve at HQ? "Do we have a mission?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Hey, Shaniqua just punched that bitch in the face! Go Janice!"
Natasha and Tony make eye contact over Clint's head. He's tired, Natasha mouths. More of an idiot than usual.
Tony grins. "But seriously, why was Steve at HQ? It can't have been to see Fury's beautiful face, and he doesn't know any of the other morons that hang around there regularly. All our SHIELD buds are off doing SHIELD things."
Natasha shrugs. "None of our business."
"Hmph." Tony sometimes hates how stolid she can get. Well, not hates. He's irritated by it, as someone so naturally curious would be. Whether as part of her espionage training or something more sinister, Natasha has the ability to just shut down all her emotions, retreat into a block of wood. "Aren't you even a little curious?" He wheedles.
"Nope."
Tony pouts childishly, folding the hologram up and sending it in an email to Fury. That'll blow a few minds in SHIELD Research and Development labs, for sure.
Lighter curls up at his feet, fully calibrated. She makes a small humming noise when he scratches her ball joint with the tip of his finger.
A household cat bot.
Well, stranger things have happened, right?
And that's when Shaniqua stops punching that bitch in the face, and Janice and her breast surgery fall off the screen. Clint squawks in protest.
"We interrupt this program to bring you a news bulletin."
Natasha's toe ups the volume a few notches.
"A man, apparently in a Captain America costume, is destroying property in downtown Brooklyn. We await the Avengers to rein in their leader-"
Tony's mouth drops.
Natasha's face betrays nothing. (There's someone Tony would hate to play poker with.)
Clint throws a pillow at the screen. "No fucking way. I have to get suited up. Unfair. This isn't fair. I hate it when this happens. Can't the bad guys be someone that isn't Steve?"
And Tony's suit, damn, Tony's suit still isn't fixed.
Hoping like hell that it's not actually Steve breaking shop windows, hoping like hell his suit will function, Tony takes the stairs three at a time and ignores the blackness creeping in at the edge of his vision. He can last another few hours.
He can.
A.N
A bigger AN here, less of an apology, more of an exposition. If you're here from the other fic, hi, please follow/favourite or drop a review or a PM. I appreciate every one, they do encourage me to write faster!
Secondly, this fic will incorporate the wider Marvel Universe. Not to a huge extent, just going to steal a few favourites for some cameos and the main villain is quite a well-known comic bad guy. Reading the comics isn't necessary to get full enjoyment out of the fic, though, I'll have plenty of exposition!
Updates weekly, or as close to weekly as I can manage. Reviews are always appreciated!