Rating: PG/K+
Disclaimer: It has come to the point in this story where I must crush all of my childhood dreams. I don't own the Avengers, or stark tower, or Jarvis, or anything else that is recognizable in this story.
A/N: though it would be interesting to see Tony's reaction to the suggestion of doing all of the laundry for the Avengers.
Tony woke up slowly. He thought he had earned the right to sleep in, with all his Billionaire-Genius-Playboy-Philanthropism, and saving New York City from a Chitauri attack and a nuclear strike. So he was stunned when he finally got up and saw a pyramid of full laundry baskets at the foot of his bed.
"Jarvis, what happened?" Tony asked in a tone that said 'I'm not sure I really want to know the answer.'
"It appears that your co-workers mistook your bedroom for the laundry room, sir. Perhaps it is because of your name."
"What do you… oh." Tony said confusedly.
When he finally understood what Jarvis was talking about, he quickly got dressed and stormed out into the kitchen where all of the Avengers were assembled, eating breakfast. They ignored his grand entrance. Thor was reading the comic strip from the morning newspaper and munching on a box of pop tarts. Natasha was staring out the window and absentmindedly chewing her whole grain cinnamon toast. Everyone else was waiting for Bruce to finish cooking the pot of oatmeal that was bubbling on the stove. If Tony wasn't irritated before they ignored him, he certainly was now. He cleared his throat, and everyone's attention was directed toward him. Everyone (except Thor) immediately knew that he was pissed off, and they also knew why he was pissed off. But Thor was the only one brave (or stupid) enough to talk to him.
"Whatever is the matter, Man of Iron?" Thor asked innocently. Tony took his good natured friends question completely the wrong way. His face went from a slightly irritated scowl to a beet-red-steam-coming-out-the-ears scowl.
"IT'S GOLD-TITANIUM ALLOY!" Tony shouted. The rest of the Avengers calmly went back to eating breakfast.
He stormed back out of the room, back to his bedroom. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the pile of baskets. He glanced out the window, then back at the baskets. Suddenly, he got an idea.
"Jarvis, open the window."
"Sir, it's 15 degrees outside. Are you sure you want…"
"Open it, now, or I'll steal the green guy's idea and smash it open."
"Right away, sir."
The window slid open as if by magic. Tony picked up the baskets and walked over to the open window. He set them on the windowsill and stacked all five baskets together. With a grin, Stark shoved the stack of baskets and watched as they fell down to the street below.
"JARVIS, close the window."
"Yes, sir. As you wish."
Fin.