Avengers Fanfic! Damn I haven't updated any of my storied in a while so I shouldn't be starting a new one, but oh well, irresponsible like that. Anyway, this is a take on what would happen if one of Tony's earlier trysts came back to haunt him in the form of his street smart, smart mouthed son. Well, I guess we'll have to see, huh? If you read anything of my previous fic this is a darker one guys, watch out.

Rated T for domestic abuse and language.

I do not own The Avengers. I do not own any characters from Marvel. I only own my own OC's.

*16 years earlier*

Tony Stark was bored. And when Tony Stark was bored bad things happened. Well, not necessarily, but things did tend to get scandalous. And, when things got scandalous he got and trouble, and through that his Company got in trouble. He sat, clean shaven and dressed in Armani, listening to what had the possibility to be the most boring speech of all eternity.

It wasn't that he hated charity events, he was a philanthropist, but they were so ridiculously dull he felt like gouging his own eyes out with the too expensive forks. He let his attention wander. He wondered if he could get any more booze, because his cup was running a little too low for his liking. He wondered when this idiot's speech was going to be over, and he also wondered what the waitress with the pretty eyes' name was.

She passed him as Obadiah waved her down with a simple flick of his wrist. She was short, shorter than he usually liked in a woman, but the rest of her made up for it. Dark chocolate colored eyes, wavy dark hair that cascaded down her shoulders. Her skin was dark and her smile bright. He smiled to himself, just as the speech from the plain, dull man. He smiled and clapped a little too loudly, nodding to the people at his table.

His eyes wandered back to where she was standing, or where she was standing. His eyes darted around as the orchestra began playing once again. Couples, mostly older, littered the dance floor. Men grouped together in corners, lighting cigars, and talking amongst themselves. Their wives draped in Jewels and Gucci, gossiped in the corners about the latest drama.

Tony was left, by himself, wandering back to the bar, for another scotch. Obadiah talked to a possible business partner, and for a moment Tony wished that Rhodes was there. At least Tony enjoyed his company, even if sometimes he couldn't take a joke. He didn't like gossip, politics, or talk of business on the weekends. Therefore, he fit in nowhere.

He waltzed over to the bar, only to come face to face with the waitress he was watching from earlier. She smiled, a charming smile, and Tony could do nothing but give her one of his own smiles, the one he reserved solely for women who sparked his ever wandering interest.

"Can I get you anything Mr. Stark?" She asked, voice tinged with a Hispanic accent. She was young, younger than him. Early twenties, but legal, and as long as they were legal, Tony felt no weighted conscience.

"Please," He straightened the lapels of his jacket. "Call me Tony."

She ducked her head, a blush tinting her cheeks. "My name is Valentina." She told him, even though he would be fine if he woke up in the morning not knowing. He probably wouldn't remember it anyway. "Can I get you anything, Tony?"

He could only grin. Maybe this night wouldn't turn out so bad after all.

*Present time*

Okay, Okay I can. It was a stupid, stupid, stupid idea. It isn't my fault; I just wanted to know who my biological father was, is that too much to ask? Apparently, yes, it is, because now I'm getting screamed at by my step-dad, my two twin half-sisters have ran away into our room, and my mom is watching with a low gaze and a guilty expression.

I just watch the man in front of me with a bored indifferent look as he lectures me about how ungrateful I am, and that I'm lucky to have him as a step-father. Bullshit, I'd be luckier if he was six feet under and I lived on the street. Okay, maybe, I am a little ungrateful, but why should I be?

Manny married my mom when I was four after he knocked her up. Boy, does she know how to pick 'em, huh? He's a mechanic, who works during the day and drinks during the night, and sometimes, if the day is particularly bad goes back to the old, its 5 o'clock somewhere rule and drinks all day. If I'm lucky he forgets we all exist and drinks himself into a stupor, or goes out for the night.

If I'm not lucky than he decided to get a little loud, a little mean, and more violent than necessary. Like now.

"You want to leave? Is that it, boy? You want to be grown? No what fine, than get the fuck out of my house and go be grown!" Manny wasn't even on topic anymore, he was just ranting now, taking all his anger out on me. It's better than taking all his anger out on anyone else.

"Hey! Pay attention! You better show some respect, Luis! Usted poco desperdicio de espacio!"

Crack.

White light blinds me for a second, but as soon as I regain my sight, and composure I stand quickly, knocking down the wooden stool I was sitting on. My cheek stings painfully, and I'm almost one-hundred percent sure I have a cut from where his brass ring scraped my cheek.

"Manny, ¡Alto!" My mother exclaims, quickly rushing over to me. She reaches for my cheek, but I simply turn away. It's the first time she's ever done anything after I'd been hit, I'm not really sure why she does it, but I wish she didn't.

"Hey, you get over here, Valentina!" He fists a hand in her hair from over the counter and yanks her toward him with a jerk, causing her to slam into the counter, she cries out, and I immediately turn to them. "Your kid is a little fucker, and I'm sick of fucking taking care of something that's not mine, you hear me?" She nods, tears prickling in her eyes, and that's when I snap.

"Let go of her!" I can't help but yell as I run behind the counter and slug Manny right across the face. His hand goes limp, and he slams into the fridge behind him, to shocked to do anything else. He stares, before his face converts into one of rage. His fist flies out and collides with my jaw, sending me hard into the wall, and I can hear my mom's scream.

I scramble to get to my feet, collapsing, for a moment because the pain is so staggering I can barely think straight, and the ring just made the hit twelve times worse. A kick to the side follows, sending me back into the wall again. Another kick to the ribs and I'm pretty sure they're bruised. Great.

More screaming, but I don't open up my eyes; instead, I opt to keep them closed for a couple of minutes. I can hear my mom pleading, but I don't know what she's saying. Everything is muffled, and everything hurts. It really, really hurts.

"When I come back, that free loader better be gone!" A door slams.

Arms wrap around me soon after, "Come on, hijo. Let's get up now." I groan as I stumble to my feet, using the wall as support, or yea, my ribs are either broken or bruised. And I know we can't afford to go to the emergency room, so woohoo. Hello, pain and a handful of aspirin.

I lean on her, even though I'm a head taller as she takes me out onto the fire escape after a lot of struggling to get through the window, and a lot more pain. She leaves, to presumably go get a first aid kit and some bandages, leaving me sitting with alone, in the humid air outside, cradling my side.

The noises of Spanish Harlem are obnoxious to most people, but to me, someone who's lived here their whole life, I think they're calming. Today was the first day I've ever stood up to Manny. I didn't do a good job, judging by my state, and the fact mom has a bruise forming on her face, but still. It's got to count for something.

She returns with peroxide and a wide roll of gauze and duct tape. I snort, "Highest quality here." I mutter bitterly, shaking my head.

She ignores me, and sits next to me, putting some peroxide on a rag she tucked into her pocket. She begins to clean the cut on my face, and I wince as it comes in contact with the open wound. A hiss escapes my clenched teeth, and she looks sympathetic.

"I don't know why you stay with him," I say, finally breaking the silence as she continues.

There's a pause, and then, in a soft voice she answers, "Where else would we go?"

"Somewhere better. Manhattan, maybe. Brooklyn, even,"

"Where we gonna get the money to go to either? And to get an apartment? Aye, hijo."

"I can't mom," I gently swat her hand away, and shake my head, "I can't stay here another minute with him. I can't do it. I can't watch him use you as a punching bag anymore."

"I'm not the one he hits the most," She looks down so that her hair hides her face.

"Only because if he didn't hit me he would hit Marta or Lupe." I point out, picking up the gauze and lifting up my shirt to reveal a nasty bruise on the right side of my body.

"Can you…?" I gesture with my chin to the gauze.

She nods, hands moving quickly. "Do you really want to know who your father is?"

"No, I just wanted my ribs to get broken so I pissed Manny off on purpose." I snap sarcastically like any angst ridden teenager.

"Watch your mouth," She snaps right back as she wraps my ribs, causing me to wince and squirm.

"Sorry." I grit out, my eyes downcast.

"Tony Stark." The name comes out of her mouth stressed and slightly angry. Like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

"What? What are you talking about, where did he come from?" I ask, confused as she wraps the gauze a little tighter than it should be, I wince once again.

"He's your father."

I laugh, well, as close to laugh as I can get to, seeing as every laugh causes more pain. "That's funny."

"I'm not kidding." The tone in her voice makes me look at her, eyes sad as she tosses the empty gauze roll over the rail and rips off a piece of duct tape with her teeth to tape the gauze in place.

"I don't understand."

"He's your dad."

"How?"

"You know how."

"Stop. How did you even meet?" I'm not able to process this. My head is swimming and all I can think of is Tony Stark.

Tony Fucking Stark.

Iron Man.

Billionaire.

God damn Iron man.

"At a party for Stark Industries. It was a charity event; I was waitressing, and then he started talking to me, and I was young and stupid, and all I cared about was attention and guys, and he was the guy. Even before he was Iron Man."

"I- I just- Does he know?" The words escape me jumbled as she finally manages to keep the gauze tight, and drops the duct tape.

"No. After I found out they were already gone. Back to California, and I figured he wouldn't want a kid anyway."

I sit, in stunned silence, staring out at the city, I've longed for so much. I can see Stark Tower from here, barely, but it's there. Glowing like a beacon in a sea of sadness and pain.

"This must be a lot to take in. I've never told you because I know how dangerous it is to be related to that man. He fights people we know nothing about on a daily basis. I never told you for your own good." She sounds tired as she follows my gaze to the skyline.

"You know what I have to do now."

She nods, "Leave. I know. If Manny comes back I'm scared he's going to do worse, hijo."

"But you know where I need to go, right?" There's only one option.

Her voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the noise of the city, "Yes, I do, but I'm scared of what you're going to find when you get there. You know, his girlfriend is pregnant. It's been all over the news."

It's true, Pepper Potts is pregnant, and with Mr. Stark's, or should I say Daddy's baby. In the interviews and press conferences they've had with the Avengers he's talked about how excited he is to be a father. Well, great, because he already is one, and he doesn't have to even raise me. He just has to know I exist.

"And you know. You can't just walk on in and say you're his son, you're gonna have to take a paternity test." She adds after a moment.

I nod, only half listening. Luis Stark. It sounds strange. It doesn't sound like the name of Luis Enriquez who's grown up in Spanish Harlem, speaks with a bit of an accent, and hobbies include tagging the neighborhood with pictures of anything and everything.

It sounds like the name of someone important. Someone who has authority. Someone who goes to charity events with his father, and laughs at jokes of business men. Someone who drinks champagne out of a crystal flute, and looks down on people like me.

I hang my head, and lean against the wall. The sun is just beginning to set, and I know that I have an hour until the next bus. I can't be here when Manny get's home. That would just end badly. Worse than now, like my mom said.

I struggle to stand, and mom quickly jumps up to help me. "Better go pack, huh, Luis?" She tries to sound playful, but fails.

"Sí," I agree as I practically fall through the window, groaning as I do. I don't turn to see her concerned face; instead, I turn to the hall, and go to get a bag ready. As I open the door I see a lump in the middle of the twin sized bed my sister's share.

"Hey, guys." I greet as casually as possible as two dark haired heads peak out from under the blanket. "I got to go for a little bit."

"Are you okay?"

"We heard fighting."

"Why are you limping?"

"I'm fine, niñas." I assure them as they crawl off the bed. They aren't even fazed by the fighting anymore, it happens that often. "Manny doesn't want me around anymore."

"Did you make papá angry again?" Lupe asks, voice quavering only slightly. The only good thing that ever came out of my mom and Manny's relationship are the twins. I can only thank God they don't take after their father.

"Yea, but don't worry, I'm gonna be back soon."

"When?" Marta asks.

"Hopefully in a couple days. Until then you guys stay out of Manny's way, okay? Don't make him angry, and for the love of all things holy, behave." A trait that seems to run in the family is pranks, humor, and bad judgment. Well, I'm not really sure what runs in my family anymore.

It all feels like a dream, I don't feel like my dad is Tony Stark. I feel numb. Well, that's a lie, I actually feel like I got hit by a truck. Or a really heavy boot. I toss random clothing items into a duffle bag along with a picture frame of my mom and the twins. I add forty dollars, money I've saved. I glance in the mirror before I go.

My dark brown hair is mussed, sticking out every way possibly, and my tan skin is marred by the cut that is starting to scab. I look beat up and my dark brown eyes are wide against my face. I tug at the cross around my neck, a habit I've had ever since I can remember.

I suddenly feel arms wrap around each of my legs.

"Don't go, Lue."

"Yea, where you gonna go? You're only fifteen." Marta asks skeptically.

"Imma go on an adventure." I say simply, better that than I'm going off to meet my billionaire dad, later guys!

"Do you have to?" Lupe asks, letting go to stand up.

"Yea," I say softly ruffling both of their hair. They squeal in mock annoyance. "I do."

I hug them both, muttering good bye's and I love you's. I have to leave soon, before the sun sets completely, at least. I'd like to make it to Stark Tower before midnight.

"By, ma. Te amo." I say, hugging my mom in the noisy, smoky hallway.

"Te quiero, nena." She leans back to look at me. "Good luck. If you can't see him, or if… If it doesn't work out…Call me. We'll figure something out. I'll talk to Manny."

"Okay." I nod, before plastering a grin onto my face. "It's gonna be fun. Never been to the big city before. Lucky me."

I'm screwed. Absolutely and positively screwed. I know my way around my neighborhood. I can tell you street names, where every stoplight is, what isn't a good place to walk at night (everywhere). I've never been to Manhattan; therefore, I am so screwed. As I walk around, the sky dark, and a bag slung over my shoulder, I self-consciously tug on my Knicks shirt.

It took me two busses to finally get here, and on those busses I had to sit next to a girl breaking up with her boyfriend, which was not a good time, and on the second I had to sit next to a little boy who stared at me the whole ride. About half way through I took to staring at him right back just as boldly until his mother shot me a look. Me a look. Control your kid, lady.

So, now, after asking for directions from a very annoyed old man and a woman walking a cat - freaking cat – I stop at a café and flag over a waitress with blonde hair and a smile. Why is a café open right now anyway? The city is weird.

I vaguely recognize this as one of the areas that suffered Loki's rage, but still, I don't know the area well-enough to navigate.

She walks over to the fence separating the sidewalk from the outdoor eating area. "Can I help you with something?"

I flash her a smile, "Yea, actually, can you tell me where Stark Towers is?"

She gives me a strange look before glancing to the side and then looking back at me with more understanding. "Oh, it's right there." She points at a large building, "The lights should be turning on in a minute." And she was right, almost exactly a minute after she said that the words Avengers Tower illuminate the night. I thought I could see the tower from my apartment earlier, but I was wrong. This is much better, the building I mistook for it is no comparison.

"Oh, wow, I mean thanks. Not wow, thanks." I correct myself and she laughs before doing a once over of me.

"What are you going to do in Stark tower anyway?"

Damn. "Business." The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. I'm in a Knicks Jersey, jeans, and a crappy pair of old Jordan's, but yea, I guess I'm doing business.

"Business?" She repeats skeptically.

"Yea, ah, the stock market is…down and yea. Got to buy. I mean sell! Later." I practically run away. The stock market is a Wall Street thing isn't it? I don't know I've never been one for politics.

As I approach the Tower a wave of nervousness rushes through me like a tsunami. I've been thinking about how I was actually going to see Stark, but all plans seem like a bad idea. Basically, I'm going in hoping for the best, which in the past has always proved a bad idea. I touch the cut on my cheek.

It doesn't help that my ribs are hurting like a mother right now. Every step I take is like another throb of pain. I can only hope that they aren't broken. Hope is what I'm basing a lot of my wishes on.

I stop before the door of the Tower and peer into the lobby. A woman is behind the counter and people are bustling around. From what I've seen on T.V. the first about 65 floors are business etc. The top 10 is where the Avengers and Tony live. The Avengers. Then 11 of the floors are labs and such. That's just a calculation though.

I push my way through the spinning door, already looking out of place in the sea of Armani suits and Coach Bags. I walk up to the desk at the front, feeling as awkward as possible with people staring at me and my attire in obvious distaste.

"Excuse me?" I ask the living Barbie doll behind the counter. I don't mean that as a compliment either. She looks so fake I'm not entirely sure she's real.

She doesn't bother to look up, just lets out an obviously uninterested, "Yes?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Stark?" It sounds more like a question.

"Do you have an appointment?" She drones. Her voice makes me want to stab myself in the ears.

"No."

"You need an appointment to meet with Mr. Stark."

"Can I make an appointment for right now?"

She finally looks up, exasperated, before her face morphs into one of shock. She tries to contain her laughter as she looks at me, and I huff out an annoyed sigh. "Mr. Stark is not in right now. He's busy saving the world." She says it like she's his best friend.

"Well, when is he not saving the world, right?" I flash her a fake, but charming smile, "Ah, Tony, and me, yes we do go back. In fact, he was expecting me, but then he called and told me he had to go and… Avenge Earth…"

She doesn't look amused, or convinced, "Listen, kid. Beat it. No autographs today."

"Fine." I say raising my hands and backing away from the desk, "But you'll be hearing from my lawyer." I call to her making everyone stop and look at me as I walk backwards, successfully bumping into someone.

"Sorry, ma-," I prepare to say as I turn only to come face to face with Tony Stark. Well I'm an inch taller, so not really face to face. Saving the world my ass.

"Sorry, kid." He says patting my shoulder once and walking past, adjusting his suit, slightly, and all I can do is stare. A very pregnant Pepper Potts walks next to him, flashing me an apologetic smile before going on her way.

Move, a voice tells me as I see him walk into the elevator. Now. So I run, through the people like my life depends on it. I catch up the elevator right before it closes, and wedge my arm into the opening so that it dings open.

Tony sighs dramatically, "You're one of those people, huh. This is a private elevator kid. You need clearance and I'm sure you don't have it."

Pepper smacks his chest lightly, "Tony."

He sighs again, "Okay what do you want me to sign."

"We need to talk." I say walking into the elevator, and hitting the close door button. Tony tenses and takes a step in front of Pepper, blocking her from my view. I suddenly realize how crazy I must look.

"Oh, sorry. I'm not here to assassinate you." I say, dumping my bag on the floor, and taking a step backward.

Tony raises a skeptical eyebrow, "Well, you better get talking kid. Before I get security to throw you out."

I take a deep breath. Better now than never.

"My name is Luis Enriquez. And I'm your son."

So guys how did you like it? How am I doing? I know it started kind of rough but I really wanted to get Luis' background before going into him and Tony, because it plays a big part at who they are. Oh and how did you guys like my OC's? Particularly Luis? I'm trying to make him a pretty likeable person. Review Please!