On a scale of 1 to 10, Tony would have to rate this morning's hangover at a five. Respectable, but nowhere near the misery he became accustomed to during his Palladium poisoning inspired spiral of self-destruction.
Those were the days that inspired him to promote his liver to CEO of his body. That poor, pickled organ clearly worked harder than any other…well, save his brain, but he couldn't burden that with trivial things like monitoring alcohol consumption, so liver it was.
A brief inventory of himself and his surroundings revealed that he was alone in his room at Stark Mansion. Someone had left a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin sitting on the bedside table. Either drunk!Tony was getting more considerate of hungover!Tony or one of his new roommates was the caregiver type.
He'd put his money on Jane or Steve.
Unlike the mornings after a blackout drunk, Tony had a fairly clear memory of most of the previous evening. Sure, things were little fuzzy around the edges and the end was pretty much a blur, but he remembered enough to smile.
There'd been a drinking contest between himself, Thor, Barton, Natasha and Darcy. Tony recalled opting out once he saw Thor chug an entire fifth of Jack Daniels. Jane had just managed to talk Darcy out of making jungle juice in a large Waterford punch bowl, something he'd be sure to thank the physicist for.
Bruce proved surprisingly good at beer pong and, after trouncing Clint, settled onto the couch to watch a Toddlers & Tiaras marathon. Steve had soon joined him, both transfixed and horrified by the crazy parents who dressed their innocent (if strung out on sugar and "go-go"juice) children up like showgirls. He'd nearly had a stroke over the one little girl in a version of his old red, white and blue uniform.
In a comfortably buzzed state, Tony had dropped onto the couch, tumbler of Macallen in hand. At some point between seeing Clint scale the bookcase (somehow juggling a handle of vodka and a plate of bacon and cheese stuffed potato skins) and watching the horrible woman on TV tried to bleach her child's teeth, he found himself slumping over.
The next time Steve seemed disturbed (and Tony couldn't blame him for thinking there was something seriously wrong with these patent people), Tony reached out and patted him comfortingly on the stomach.
Really, that was his intent, but he was pretty sure he sat there padding the incredibly impressive abs until he fell asleep and someone put him to bed.
After downing the water and painkillers, Tony made his way downstairs in search of coffee. The hall outside his room was quiet and showed no sign of damage. It looked as though they'd contained their construction efforts to the one area, which was a good thing. Fortunately, they done the demolition before breaking out the booze.
Staggering into the kitchen, he found he wasn't the only one awake.
Steve and Jane were hovering by the stove, immersed in cooking something as Thor, clad only in one of Sarah's floral aprons, watched with interest. Coulson and Pepper were comparing schedules and Darcy seemed to be sucking coffee through a straw as she lay her head on the granite countertop.
Tony knew he liked her.
"You couldn't have waited to hire a professional construction crew before knocking out space for a freight elevator?"
At least Pepper sounded amused rather than angry. Amused he could deal with. Snagging the coffee pot, he replied, "Are you kidding me? Thor did the demo in a fraction of the time. Morning, Big Guy, looking sharp."
The demigod grinned around the pop tart he was eating. "It was no trouble, my friend."
"Morning, Tony," Steve greeted him with a smile, looking far too bright eyed and put together after last night. A side effect of the supersoldier serum, no doubt. "Would you like an omelet?"
Though Tony wasn't really one for breakfast, he wasn't about to turn down something Captain America cooked. "Sure, thanks," he agreed, making his way over to the counter and claiming the seat beside Darcy.
After moment, Coulson asked, "This won't be an everyday occurrence, right? Because I doubt Director Fury would want his new team functioning at decreased readiness due to hangovers."
"Who's hungover?"
Tony whipped around upon hearing Natasha's voice, forgetting such movements were, for the moment, ill advised. The redheaded spy looked none the worse for drinking what seemed like her body weight in vodka only hours earlier.
She was even doing that creepily silent thing, as was Clint, though he at least had the decency to look faintly gray and was wearing his sunglasses indoors.
"How come you don't look like you want to be put out of your misery?" Darcy moaned unhappily. "You drank way more than I did."
"Practice," Natasha replied with a small smile as she drifted toward the coffee pot, which was fortunately programed to refill itself. Tony had a feeling that would be a blessing with everyone in residence. Filling 2 cups, she pressed one into Clint's hand and then pointed at the table. "Go sit before you fall over."
Cradling his drink, Clint obeyed without protest, dropping into the chair beside Coulson and subsiding into that weird stillness thing he did. If not for the occasional motion required to sip his coffee, he could have been a statue.
That was when Bruce entered from the dining room, box of Ramen in hand. He blinked the crowd, then mumbled, "Oh, hey."
Eyes fixed on the concentrated cup of sodium, Tony said, "Are you going to eat that? It's…Oh, God, why am I awake at 9 AM?"
Bruce glanced down at the cup of noodles. "I'm not much of a cook."
"Ramen's an academic staple, Tony," Jane said, giving Bruce a kind smile. "I think you'd appreciate it."
With a shrug, Tony replied, "I do, just not at this ungodly hour."
"You have an odd interpretation of what constitutes an ungodly hour," Coulson said with a snort.
"Would you like some eggs, Bruce? Or an omelet?" Steve asked, sliding a plate bearing an omelet across the counter to Tony.
Setting the Ramen aside, Bruce nodded. "Eggs would be great. Thanks."
And thus was the first team breakfast.
Tony managed to down 5 cups of coffee before Pepper and Steve started giving him looks of disapproval, but he mollified them by eating the entire omelet. Steve had eaten already (Darcy later got him to admit that he'd been up at five for a run, a workout and a shower before anyone else stirred. Clearly, he was one of those morning people), but he seemed to enjoy the company. Jane split her time between coaxing Darcy to eat some toast and subtly suggesting to Thor, who was working on his second box of Pop Tarts, that he might want to get dressed. Natasha ate and subtly inspected the silverware, probably judging how lethal it was. Clint fell asleep, though no one noticed until he let out a snuffly little snore. Bruce seemed pleased with the eggs and was, for him, fairly chatty.
Pepper and Coulson were commiserating, clearly having decided that they were the only sane people in the room.
"So," Coulson eventually said once everyone was fed, caffeinated, upright and awake (if not alert), "For the next few days, you will not be required to report to HQ. Consider it a long weekend best used for getting to know each other, getting settled in…"
"We're going shopping," Tony piped up, sliding a tablet over to Pepper. "I'll need those materials for the lab refit I want to do downstairs, but Steve needs clothes."
"I have clothes," Steve protested, but Tony waved him off.
"Yes, I saw you unpack what, three pairs of pants and five shirts? That is not a wardrobe. And Thor, how much do you have that isn't leather, chain mail or a cape?" Tony replied, wagging his finger at the flowery apron. "How about some pajama pants? Bruce, how about you? Saw the one knapsack you brought with you. We're going to be public figures people. It's about image."
"Dude, as often as you used to pop up on TMZ and you're lecturing us about image?" Clint said, and then flinched. "Who kicked me?"
Darcy was glaring at him. "Of course they need new clothes. I was going out to buy a comforter that doesn't smell like my great aunt Tula, so I totally volunteer to help!"
Tony had the feeling his new friends were about to suffer the indignity of being used as life-size, anatomically correct Ken dolls. Thor would probably take things well, as he generally seemed affable and easily entertained. They'd have to keep an eye on Bruce, spring him from the stores if he began to show signs of irritation. Having him Hulk out in the middle of Neiman Marcus would be terrible PR…though watching Fury twitch was always amusing. Poor Steve would probably be overwhelmed and embarrassed within the first 10 minutes, but he'd be too polite to comment.
All in all, not your average shopping trip.
They parted ways with Coulson and Pepper as they left the mansion, Pepper citing work at Stark Tower, but Tony bet Coulson was monitoring them from a distance using traffic cams and CCTV. He thought the man just didn't want to be around them when all hell broke loose, which it probably would.
Individually, members of their new team attracted a variety of less than desirable foes, so it stood to reason that, together, they'd be a magnet for the super crazy, super villain set. Look at the X-Men, or even the Fantastic 4. How many times a Doom attacked the Baxter building? And Tony was willing to bet very little of Xavier's Westchester mansion was part of the original structure, what with the occasional invasions by the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants (subtle) or the US military.
Note to self: reinforce all loadbearing beams and walls in the mansion and upgrade his already insanely sophisticated security system.
They were an…eclectic group to say the least. Each of the ladies had their own distinct style. Natasha wore fitted black trousers and boots with a stacked heel, paired with an emerald button-down and black leather jacket. Her hair fell in a loose array of curls and she looked both lovely and deadly.
As usual.
Jane's look was classic, with an outdoorsy/academic flair. Slim cut khakis were tucked into work boots and she wore thick leather belt around her hips. For top she'd layer to T-shirt, a light sweater and a canvas jacket, somehow making the whole thing look elegant.
Fun and young would be the words Tony would use to describe Darcy's style. Jeans, heavy leather boots and a graphic tee under a canvas jacket, her quirky glasses perched on her nose.
Cute would also be very apt and he thought she was young enough that the term would not be considered condescending.
Considering their lightweight coats, Tony wondered if they had warmer clothes. New York winters would not be kind to people used to New Mexico.
Thor seemed impervious to the slight chill in the air, happily strolling around in jeans and a slightly too small red T-shirt. With his blond hair and build, he looked like a male model, though Tony had rarely seen a model who looked as genuinely happy as Thor.
Perhaps that had something to do with the amount of sugar the demigod ate. Tony had thought Jane was going to smack Clint upside the head when the archer produced a jar of marshmallow fluff and suggested to Thor that it would make a good filling for Pop Tart sandwiches.
Speaking of Clint, he, like Natasha, seemed to favor a wardrobe that consisted of varying shades of black. Jeans, combat boots, leather jacket – all black. The T he wore under the jacket was heather gray and his wraparound sunglasses had a tint of green, the only color in his ensemble.
Bruce was wearing a truly unfortunate pair of plum colored corduroy trousers, battered Converse sneakers and a stretched out black fleece. He didn't seem thrilled by the prospect of venturing out into the city, but he'd heaved a put upon sigh and popped a couple of Xanax in the name of team solidarity.
Compared to Bruce's rumpled look, Steve seemed even neater in his pressed, pleated (yeah, they were going to have to do something about that) khakis, a pale blue checked Oxford and buff colored Bucks. His hair looked like he'd used a ruler to make sure the part was straight and Tony really wanted to reach out and mess him up a little.
Seriously, he'd yet to see the man looked anything but perfect.
Tony himself rounded out the group in blue jeans, Moncler Monaco sneakers and a long-sleeved T-shirt he'd had silkscreened with the atomic diagram of the element powering his arc reactor. He too wore light leather jacket, though his was brown instead of black.
Yeah, they probably looked a bit odd together.
After some discussion they started the day off hunting for clothes in a large department store and, thanks to the unflappable nature of most New Yorkers, their…unique group didn't raise many eyebrows.
Okay, so Thor's attempted conversation with the police horse did earn a few stares and Steve was hissed at when he was caught gaping at a man with full facial and skull tattoos.
In the grand tradition of high-end sales staff, a woman materialized mere moments after they entered the store. Tony had the theory that these women were hired for their mutant ability to smell black charge cards.
"May I offer you some assistance?" She said, eyes scanning the group before settling on Tony (which caused her to gape momentarily), "Mr. Stark?"
That reaction was why Pepper bought most of his clothes that weren't made to order by his tailor.
Which reminded him, he'd have to make an appointment for Thor and Steve with Murray. They weren't exactly off the rack guys. Hell, he'd suit up Bruce and Clint too, though Bruce's would probably end up in shreds and Clint would probably look at him like gone insane.
Hmmm, better bring Natasha. It wouldn't be nice to leave her out, plus she'd probably appreciate a finely cut suit more than any of the others.
"Yes," he replied, pausing to read her name tag, "Raquel. Some of my friends here need new wardrobes."
He could practically see the dollar signs flash in Raquel's eyes (and, 10 to 1, her name was really Rachel) as she looked over the cluster of them. "That's definitely something I can help you with! Shall we start with…?"
"Men's department," Natasha said, tiring of the sales woman's sucking up. Pointing to Steve, Thor and Bruce, she declared, "Them first."
Tony gave Raquel points for immediately realizing Natasha was someone to be afraid of. Bright smile plastered on her face, the woman led them to the store, muttering into her Bluetooth. There was a momentary hold up at the escalators (Steve wasn't fond of them), but nothing too distracting.
When they reached men's clothing, a small troop of skinny, black clad men and women were waiting, summoned by Raquel, who established herself as the alpha fashion vampire (seriously, all fashion people seemed in dire need of sun, a dozen bacon cheeseburgers and a sense of humor) by tossing out directions.
"Michael, Andrew, Katya, measurements! Lisle, Sasha, see if anyone would like a beverage. Is there anything specific you'd like to see Mr. Stark?"
Oh, lovely. She thinks I'm playing sugar daddy. Pepper would probably kill him tomorrow when word got out that he'd been seen outfitting three good-looking man. Rumors would abound.
Whatever. Not like that would be the worst rumor anyone had ever started about him. He'd buy the ladies some things too, keep the tabloids wondering. "Whatever they want."
Like hungry wolves, the three store employees with tape measures descended upon Steve, Thor and Bruce. The whole process seemed to unnerve Steve, who was blushing even before Thor looked down at the man checking his inseam and rumbled, "Careful with thine hands, friend."
Bruce barely seem to notice as the girl did her thing with the measuring tape, making Tony wonder how many pills the man had taken. Mentally, he gave a shrug. As long as Banner was upright and conscious, he should be okay and there wasn't even a hint of green in his complexion as he stared off into space.
Once the salespeople figured out what sizes the three men wore, the actual clothing selections began and several things became evident.
Despite his intelligence, Bruce could not be trusted to stay away from purple…well, purple anything. Tony was of the opinion that most grown men should not wear plum or eggplant and both lavender and lilac washed Banner out terribly. They did however find a funky pair of purple Nikes for him and that everyone liked.
Bright and bold colors seem to call out to Thor and Jane had to delicately explain to him why the "shirt of golden mail" he'd seen downstairs was not a good selection for him.
Tony was pretty sure it was some kind of mesh lame, which…no. Just no.
Unsurprisingly, Steve's taste ran to the old-fashioned. Khakis, button down shirts, a boatload of plaid and suspenders were his preference, though he was open to the idea of jeans and T-shirts. He was very fond of layers and, when questioned, simply replied, "I don't like the cold."
That prompted everyone in the know to practically throw sweaters, hoodies and jackets at him. He seemed particularly pleased with the blue sweatshirt that read Brooklyn across the front. Tony surreptitiously tapped his phone, ordering a dozen new down comforters for the house, just to have extras on hand.
Eventually, Thor began to fidget and Steve looked ready to crawl under her chair in embarrassment when one of the sales girls arrived carrying dozens of CK boxers, boxer briefs, T-shirts and socks.
It was probably a good thing that the poor guy had months to adapt before bikini season arrived and girls and their barely there summer wear sprawled around the park on nice days.
As they left the store, Tony made arrangements for their purchases to be delivered to the mansion. There was a slight brush with trouble when they had to pass by the lingerie department and Steve looked like he was about to have a coronary, but they made it onto the street without further incidents.
Deciding the poor man needed some time to regain his equilibrium, Tony suggested lunch. Again there was some squabbling over where to eat (Thor wanted to visit "The diner of pancakes!"), but Darcy won out by pointing at the Applebee's down the street.
Tony had the feeling that food would be an important part of keeping the peace and sanity of this group intact.
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