AN: This is the first time I've actually written fanfiction in roughly three years, so here goes nothing.

We had been working on this project in my lab for precisely nineteen hours straight when I finally relented and went downstairs to get us both some coffee. My eyes struggled to readjust to the morning light as I trotted down the stairs. The lab was completely artificially lit, and I had lost track of time with Bruce and our newest baby—as he liked to call it.

"Jarvis, will you put on a pot of coffee?" I asked quickly.

"Sir, you—"

"Wait. Is Bruce still hunched over the microscope with the metals?" I interrupted.

"Yes. I'm afraid so."

I shook my head disapprovingly and began the search for Bruce's favorite mug. Every newly-painted cabinet door stood ajar, every placemat flipped, every drawer opened. I had to give up after thirty minutes of crazed searching, so I settled for the canary-yellow mug. He hated that mug, but I filled it up with coffee, added three sugars and four creams, and ascended the three flights of stairs back up to the lab.

I peered around the corner, hoping to surprise him with the coffee (and the hideous canary mug). The lab was completely empty, devoid of any sounds or movement.

"Jarvis? Where the hell did Bruce go?"

"Sir, he told me he was going out for a walk. I assumed he needn't be bothered."