For reasons Tony had never been able to fully understand, Christine Everhart of Vanity Fair had appointed herself the conscience of Stark Industries as a whole, and himself in particular. Any violation of human rights, or cost cutting that infringed on well . . . anyone, or the slightest whiff of illegal activity by anyone even slightly affiliated with Stark Industries, she pounced on and would confront him about it at the first opportunity. Usually at a press conference and no matter what conference was about, or where it was, she always showed up. She would also show up at events where Tony was, even if he was just there to mingle. How and where she got her information was a mystery, but she was always right.
Tony would have had her banned from events and conferences except for two things. One, he believed rather strongly in the first amendment and two, it had been Everhart who had first clued him in on the fact that Obediah Stane had been using Stark Industries to line his own pockets with weapons sales on the black market. Also, if he wanted to be totally honest with himself, he needed Everhart. He needed her to keep him from flying off the rails and taking Stark Industries with him. That she had legs that went from here to there and back again via the scenic route was just a bonus.
Speaking of bonuses, it was time for a Martini. Snatching up a paper cup from the water cooler, he produced a flask from his pocket and poured a full eight parts Gin (shaken, of course) into the cup. No olives, but Tony was willing to rough it now and then.
At that moment, one of the interns ran up. "Sir! It's Everhart! She's . . . she's . . ."
"She's what? Here? Not here?"
"No, she's here. Front row."
"Well that's not unusual. Smirking or blank faced?" Tony sipped from the cup. If Everhart was smirking, it meant she had something to confront him about. Blank-faced, she was just here to watch. He took another sip.
"She's . . . she's smiling!"
"What?" Tony spat the martini out, the cup falling to the floor. "Smiling? She never smiles! She- PEPPER!"
"Tony?" Pepper hurried over. "What is it?"
"Everhart is here."
"She's always at these things. I don't see-"
"She's smiling," Tony interrupted.
"Like a shark," the intern added.
Pepper's face paled. "T-Tony, what did we miss?"
"I don't know. I don't know! Get Damage Control ready to rock," Tony snapped, referring to the Stark Industries PR department. Then . . . I don't know. Call the tower. Put Coulson into the loop." He pointed at the intern. "Name."
"Chris, Sir. Chris Pow-"
"Shut up. You're promoted to minion. Pepper, Frankenstein, you, Igor. Go." Igor went. "Jarvis?"
"Here, Sir," the computer's voice came over the the small earbud Tony wore. It was almost invisible to the naked eye unless you knew what to look for and was fully capable of two-way communication. All the Avengers had one now.
"Access SHIELD databases and the S.I. Records. Cross reference and see if you can figure out why Everhart is smiling. Anything you can put on standby to free up resources, do so. Ping me the moment you have something."
"As you wish," Jarvis replied. "Although, Sir, it is possible that whatever has Miss Everhart so happy may not become evident until she says something."
"I know, Jarvis, but any forewarning is good."
Tony once slept with Everhart. At times like this, he almost regretted it.
Almost.
Officially, the point of the press conference was to formally introduce Stark Industries' new CFO. Julia Carpenter might have been a bit young for the position, but she was dynamic, a math prodigy and carried an MBA and an Accounting degree. More importantly, she wasn't afraid to tell Tony no, actually mouthing off to him during a formal interview in front of the entire Board. He'd offered her the job on the spot.
But Tony had another reason as well. Two, actually. One was to test Julia under fire. The second was to do that by debuting something . . . interesting.
Now as Tony ascended the stage, he flicked a glance at the audience, immediately picking out Everhart. As Igor said, she was smiling like a shark and the rest of the press gave the impression of scavengers, waiting for her to make the kill. He'd heard that there was a bidding war out for her and to date, Vanity Fair was beating out all bids for her contract since her articles, exclusive to Vanity Fair, were driving subscriptions through the roof.
None of this showed on Tony's face as he sauntered across the stage, adding a little hop and leg shake and turning it into a boogie as he reached his mark. Ultimately, Tony Stark was a showman and Pepper had said that if Stark Industries ever collapsed, Tony would have no problem making it in show business. Which was probably a good thing since he had kids to support now. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, giving a slight nod to the group of men and women seated in the front row. They weren't reporters, but the majority stockholders (numbers 3-10) of Stark Industries. J. Jonah Jameson and Wilson Fisk in particular were the big fish. Jameson returned his nod, Fisk did not. "It is my great pleasure to introduce the new Chief Financial Officer of Stark Industries; Julia Carpenter." Next to him, Julia materialized, literally. Her appearance caused murmurs and whispers and she smiled.
"Thank you, Tony. Ladies and Gentlemen, I am so pleased to be here with you. What you are seeing is the sort of innovation that has kept Stark Industries at the top for over seventy years. This is Stark Industries brand new proprietary HoloTech. At the moment, I'm in an identical room to this one, but in Luxembourg, Germany. The only difference is that here, there's just me and the stage." She stepped off the stage and walked up the center aisle and back. "As you can see, I look real and sound real. Stark HoloTech uses a proprietary graphics technology that makes it possible to transmit over established fiber optics lines and will be commercially available within three months ranging from this conference capable setup for corporate purposes down to the home user by the end of the fiscal year." She turned on her heel and walked right through the audience, causing yelps of surprise and excitement before returning to the stage.
Everhart's smile got wider and she raised her hand. At the back of the stage, Tony sucked in his breath and rolled up onto his toes before settling back down. This was it. "Ms. Carpenter, Christine Everhart, Vanity Fair. As a woman and a mother, how do you feel about Tony Stark adopting two children and sequestering them in Avengers Tower where neither has been seen in public since?"
Tony moved. Not as bad as he thought, but he was going to have someone's head stuffed and mounted. Doreen and Peter were not ready to face the press and all of the Avengers shared Tony's opinion that the Paparazzi were pretty much small annoying garden gnomes and in the case of Natasha and Bruce, avoided speaking to the press entirely. So who the hell had opened their mouth?
"Julia! Sorry. I should probably take this one." He shoved his hands in his pockets and resisted the urge to glare. "Christine! Always a pleasure. Let me tell you, I am really surprised by this, I mean, you could have at least asked for an interview with them." Everhart flinched, just slightly, and then inclined her head slightly in a silent apology. "But to answer your question, there has been no sequestering. Both kids have suffered personal tragedies and they need time to heal, grieve, and mourn. They also need to learn certain emergency procedures, the same as any other family. I mean, isn't that what they teach in school? How to evacuate your house if there's a fire or other emergency?"
Everhart rallied. "And you feel comfortable exposing children to the hazards and dangers implicit in living around the Avengers? Especially since the Hulk-"
"Let me stop you right there," Tony interrupted. "The Hulk was key in defending New York from the alien attack and instrumental in several missions since. He is not a monster or a beast. As to other threats, they're no safer or more at risk than any other kid in this day and age. We live in an Age of Marvels, Christine, and Iron Man or no, Avengers or no, I refuse to wrap my kids, my family, in bubble wrap because of what ifs." He clapped his hands once and turned back to Julia. "Now, back to Julia." He stepped back several paces as Julia resumed her presentation.
"Eminently well handled, Sir," Jarvis informed him. "Also, I have checked both Shield and Stark Industries press releases and known Twitter and blog accounts of employees and agents who would have known. There is nothing about the children. I have contacted Ms Lewis and asked her to 'keep an ear to the grapevine' as it were."
"Yeah. Thanks." Tony said, but his mind was elsewhere.
"A family outing?" Pepper raised an eyebrow.
"Yes!" Tony waved his hand in the air. "This is New York, Pepper! We've been here a year and a half and we have never gone out on the town. We;re a family now too, and families go out and . . . and they do things. Family like . . . things."
"I would like to see some of the city," Doreen added. "Doctor Banner's garden is nice, but I miss trees and Joe should meet other squirrels."
Peter slumped in his chair. "Jeez. I haven't even looked at my email or anything. My friends are probably wondering if I'm even alive."
"Tony," Pepper stepped in, "where would we even go?"
Tony faltered. He hadn't thought about that part. The Starks had been part of New York for nearly a century when Stane had packed him off to L.A. At the time, Tony had believed Stane when he said that there was more space at their L.A. facility and it would do him good to get away from New York and memories of his parents. Now he knew that Stane wanted him disconnected from the board of directors and his company. It made his blood boil to think about it. "Out. Dinner. Family. Something."
"Um," Peter looked up. "I have an idea."
According to Jarvis, Mars 2112 consistently received high marks on Yelp and was rated on Zagat for all ages. Peter had gone regularly with his Aunt and Uncle and attended many a birthday party there. Doreen was curious and Tony had never been to a theme restaurant before. Pepper didn't protest, since she had nothing better.
They left the tower in a nondescript town car with tinted windows. Happy was driving, (Tony wasn't about to trust this to anyone else) and Doreen peered excitedly out the windows. After all, it was New York, a place she'd seen only on TV and from the bus. Peter sat next to her, pointing out landmarks. Some were famous, some not widely known outside of the city. It was as much an education for Tony and Pepper as it was for Doreen and they followed his finger as he rattled off building names or places. A few Tony recognized from his own childhood.
Finally, Happy pulled up at a street corner and they climbed out. Tony recognized Carnegie Hall, but not much else.
"Wow," Doreen breathed, her tail quivering in excitement.
"Fucking furry!" yelled a young man in some sort of band t-shirt as he walked by, and yet most of the people ignored him. A few glanced at Doreen and then looked away. Tony was barely noticed.
"Wait, is this Broadway?" Doreen gasped, reading signs. "THE Broadway?"
"Yup." Peter pointed north. "Letterman's studio is about five blocks that way. South is Times Square and East is Rockefeller Center.
"What's west?" Tony asked, curious, and then shifted aside as a woman brushed past him, bumping him slightly and he caught a glimpse of dark skin and bright white hair before she vanished back into the crowd.
Peter faltered. "Uh . . ." he looked west. "Um . . . Jersey."
"PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETEEEEERRRR RRRRRRRRR!" At that moment, something blond and pink erupted from the crowd and attached itself to Peter with a hug that would do a grizzly bear proud.
"Oof!" Peter exclaimed. "Gwen? GWEN!"
"And Gwen's Peter sense strikes again," someone said sardonically. Tony looked over to see a boy and a girl emerge from the crowd and watching the reunion with a smile. The girl was tall and lean, with the face of a model while the boy had the weirdest haircut Tony had ever seen. His face was sharp and narrow, with an eagle's beak of a nose and a high forehead. Both were redheads.
"Osborn," Pepper whispered in his ear.
Ah, of course. No one else in the world had that ridiculous haircut. Or that nose.
"Gwen." another man emerged from the crowd, this one with the same blond hair as Peter's limpet. "You're supposed to let someone breathe when you hug them."
"Oh!" The blonde let go of Peter who took several deep breaths. "Sorry." Then she scowled and punched Peter in the shoulder, and the redheads followed suit. "You never called! Never emailed! I opened a Facespace account to try and find you! A FACESPACE ACCOUNT!"
"That really is a sign of concern," observed the redhead.
"Facespace does mean true love," Osborn Jr. agreed.
Gwen hugged Peter again. "I was worried, Peter." Then she punched him in the shoulder once more.
"I'm sorry, Gwen, but after . . . that night . . . I mean . .. my phone plan got canceled and then the city had me moving around and then when I got a new family, I had to . . . I'm sorry, Gwen. I just didn't think of it." Peter hung his head.
"You owe her, Tiger," the redhead said. "She made a Facespace account."
"You can't cancel those guys," Osborn Jr. added. "They're like the Black Plague of the Internet."
"Shut up," Gwen told them and then looked back at Peter. "Peter, I'm glad you found a new family. What are they like?"
"You could always ask them." The redhead indicated Tony, Pepper, and Doreen with her thumb.
Tony gave Gwen his best smirk/smile and waved. "Hello!"
Gwen turned red with embarrassment, and then she looked at him and her face got even redder and her mouth opened and shut like a goldfish.
"I'm afraid my daughter has a serious crush on you, Mr. Stark." The blond man turned to him. "George Stacey." They shook hands.
"Dad!" Gwen wailed.
Stacey ignored her. "Gwen and Peter grew up together since we live right down the street from them." He waved a hand at the redheads. That's Mary Jane Watson, Peter's neighbor, and Harry Osborn."
"Mr. Stark," Harry said.
"Tony, please. Just Tony. And of course, Pepper, the spice to my salt."
"You read that on the internet," Pepper told him. "I told you to stop that."
"But it's fun."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, George," Pepper said, shaking Stacey's hand.
"And last, but never least, Doreen," Tony finished the introductions with a wave of his hand and Doreen shook Stacey's hand with both of hers.
"So, Tiger, you got yourself a sibling and she's a redhead," Mary Jane pulled Doreen into a one armed shoulder to shoulder hug. "I knew you had good taste."
"Redheads are awesome," Harry agreed. "We'd take over the world, but you're just going to give it to us eventually anyway."
"We are, after all, derived from cats," Mary Jane all but purred. "And the Egyptians worshiped cats."
"And so you will worship us," Harry said smugly.
"What are you guys doing here?" Peter asked. Evidentially, ignoring Harry and Mary Jane was a thing.
"Gwen wanted to go out for dinner," Stacey replied. He ruffled his daughter's hair.
"It was her Peter sense," Mary Jane said, as though that explained it.
"The Peter sense is never wrong," Harry confirmed.
"Will you two stop that?" Gwen demanded. "There is no such thing as the Peter sense."
Tony turned to Peter. "The Peter sense?"
"Harry and Mary Jane think they're funny," Gwen replied, glaring daggers at the redheads who somehow managed to look both innocent and mischievous at the same time.
"Gwen can almost always find Peter when she wants to," Mary Jane explained. "It's uncanny. Harry insists she has him fitted with a tracking device, and I keep telling him that's silly. She's obviously an alien and finds him by scent."
Stacey cleared his throat. "As fascinating as this is, perhaps we should go inside?"
"Yeah! We can get a big table!" Harry exclaimed.
"You just want the jumbo basket of crayons," Mary Jane sneered as they moved towards the stairs that lead to Mars 2112's courtyard.
"Well, yeah," Harry shrugged.
Entering Mars 2112 required sitting through a noisy simulator style ride that was kitschy as hell, and far too short in Tony's opinion. Even as they left the simulator, he was already talking about buying and upgrading the place and as they waited for the hostess, Pepper fired off a quick text to Julia Carpenter, warning her about Tony's newfound restauranteur aspirations and that she was not to let him go through with it. It was probably unnecessary, Tony tended to promptly forget about those things soon after coming up with them, but sometimes not. Case in point, after four years, he was still trying to get her to let him buy Target.
Mars 2112 did actually look like Mars, though. Granted, a 60's camp version of the red planet, with red rocks, fake neon green trees, and waiters in knockoff science fiction movie costumes. At the back of the room was a pair of doors marked "Arcade", and the bar was to the left. Children ran back and forth between the tables, or through the Arcade doors, or up and down the stairs she could just barely see beyond the bar. Business was brisk, but as they neared the hostess stand, Pepper took another look around. The paint on the walls was worn, and thinking about it, the ride seemed dated, and the costumes worn by the staff seemed . . . a bit threadbare. If nothing else, Mars 2112 could use some TLC.
"Do the stairs go to the subway?" Doreen asked, pointing at the stairs. "Gosh, never been on a subway 'fore. Well, Daddy and I did ride the train once at the State Fair."
"No, that leads to the Miniature Golf course," Harry explained.
Doreen cocked her head. "Miniature Golf? Like nine holes? There was this resort Daddy was always fixin' the pump at an' he took me there to help 'im sometimes. They had two golf courses. Big one, an' then a small one."
Peter, Mary Jane, Gwen and Harry stared at her in shock. "You've never played miniature golf?" Harry asked, as though it was a personal affront. "That's . . . that's horrible."
"Very horrible," Mary Jane said with heavy sarcasm. "A shock, in fact that a girl from rural Alabama has never heard of miniature golf." She wrapped one arm around Doreen's shoulders. "Don't mind Harry, Dorrie, he's just mad because he hit puberty last week and has to face up to the fact that girls don't have cooties."
Harry was saved from responding when the Hostess asked them how many in their party and then told them that the wait would be at least an hour and a half.
The kids immediately dragged Doreen off to the golf course, leaving Tony, Pepper, and Stacey to stand there.
"So this is a family outing?" Tony asked.
Stacey looked from him to Pepper and back again. "Do either of you know anything about raising children, much less teenagers?"
"Pepper has some younger sisters she helped with," Tony pointed out, "And I was a teenager . . . at some point. I think."
Stacey raised one eyebrow. "Would you like some advice?"
"Yes, please." Tony and Pepper said in unison.
Stacey's advice was couched in disclaimers and generalities and based strictly on his experience with Gwen and his encounters with the children of friends and relatives, but Tony and Pepper took anything he could give them and he answered Tony's questions with the patience of a saint. While he could only give tips about raising a daughter, he was a gold mine about Peter. Pepper and Tony soaked up every word. But in the middle of a story about Peter's 10th birthday, Stacey's phone buzzed.
"Cop thing?" Tony asked. "We'll take Gwen home if you need to go bust some bad guys."
"No, it's from Gwen. 'Hole 15'."
"Well that's cryptic," Tony mused.
Then from the stairs, they heard screaming and Pepper proved that even in heels, she could outrun both of them.
When they arrived, they found Mary Jane handing out a verbal tirade in a drill sergeant tone that made even Tony want to snap to attention. Her target was a trio of college aged men with high end name brand clothing and popped collars. Nearby, Peter, Harry and Gwen watched with an expression Tony couldn't quite describe and Doreen looked like she wanted to cry. Pepper immediately pulled in Doreen for a hug while Stacey went to deal with the restaurant employees who came running up.
"Let me guess, they went one over par?" Tony quipped.
"Mary Jane had to run to the bathroom," Peter said, "while she was gone, those three guys came up. We told 'em we were waiting for someone and to play on through and that's when they noticed Doreen's tail."
"They started saying . . . some bad things," Harry piped up.
"That's hardly an excuse," Stacey said as he joined them.
"I know," Peter agreed, "but then Mary Jane came up and tried to get them to move on and stop pestering Doreen and they told her to-"
Stacey's face took on an expression of horror and sympathy. "Cripes," he muttered, "they didn't tell her to-"
"Stand aside because she wouldn't understand?" Peter asked, "pretty much, yeah. I mean, she was probably gonna go off on them anyway, but . . ."
"I take it Mary Jane doesn't appreciate being dismissed," Tony put in.
"Mary Jane is young and beautiful," Stacey explained. "Because of that, a lot of people brush her off because they think she's either too full of herself, or not bright enough to comprehend the world around her."
"And that really, really, pisses her off," Gwen finished. "Never, ever, give Mary Jane the brush off by telling her she wouldn't understand. It's like, her berserk button or something." She frowned. "Actually, never give her the brush off at all."
"Like Doctor Warren did," Peter said.
"Yeah," Gwen agreed. "That . . . that was bad."
"But hilarious," Harry pointed out.
There was a pause and then Peter, Gwen and Harry all nodded. "Yeah."
"Got it, no brushing off Mary Jane," Tony said and turned to deal with the manager, because he was the Goddamn Tony Fucking Stark, and this was nothing new.
The manager wasn't stupid, he recognized Tony right away and when Tony explained that there had been an disagreement between the gentlemen and his kids and their friends (being very careful not to lay no emphasis on the words "my kids"), the manager understood immediately and offered to throw the three morons out onto the street as well as comp their meal.
"That won't be necessary," Pepper interjected. "We appreciate the offer, but our table should be ready soon and the kids have a game to finish."
"And I left a perfectly good Martini at the bar," Tony added.
"Uh-uh!' Mary Jane snapped. "Captain Stacey, I demand these men be arrested for hate speech and harassment!"
"School paper?" Tony asked.
"Nope. Drama club." Peter replied.
"Huh, I would have had her pegged as a journalist."
"Oh she is," Harry said, "or wants to be. It's just that the editor of our school paper is scared to death of her and won't let her on staff."
Tony looked to over where Mary Jane was informing the manager, an employee, several onlookers, two newly arrived cops, and a bemused Captain Stacey of the laws that were broken, chapter and verse. "That's probably the wisest course."
"Yeah. Rand's a smart guy."
By the time Mary Jane wound down, statements were taken, the three bigots were hauled off to jail, and the game was finished (Mary Jane won), their table was ready. It was in the corner, raised off the floor, offering a commanding view of the restaurant as a whole and covered with a paper tablecloth. Menus were already set out and a giant basket of crayons was in the center. Again, Pepper noted the tired state of the menus. Faded colors, with the laminate showing its age here and there. Still, the names were amusing and it's wasn't hard to figure out what was what since the descriptions, despite the science fiction flair, made it pretty plain. Mostly, burgers, sandwiches, salads (for the parents' sake) and other things kids would eat, for the most part.
Always health conscious, Pepper pondered her choices as Tony, Peter, and Harry held a debate on the merits of the Astro Burger with cheese versus the Star Cactus Burger with Bacon and Traveler's Blood and she smiled. Tony was as comfortable eating a hot dog from a street vendor as he was sitting down to a twelve course meal in the finest restaurants in the world and it was just one of the many paradoxes that made up the whole of Tony Stark.
All to soon, the waiter showed up to take orders and make a few Star Trek jokes before taking their menus and disappearing again.
"Yes!' Harry lunged for the crayon basket and Pepper realized why the table cloth was made of paper. "I call dinosaurs!" Peter, Gwen and Mary Jane also reached for crayons, Gwen passing one to Doreen.
"What's this?" Tony asked.
"Drawing contest," Gwen explained. "Winner picks dessert for the whole table. We get the waiter to judge."
"May Parker came up with it," Stacey explained. "It kept a pack of eight year olds quiet and busy and believe me, that's the greatest thing in the world. Of course, then they roped us adults into it. Then Peter and Gwen got Harry and Mary Jane into it. Harry, mostly."
"Totally in," Tony exclaimed and dug out a crayon.
Pepper turned to Stacey to make a comment about how immature her husband was and saw him reaching for the basket. "Gwen always picks Brownies," he growled. "Brownies with walnuts. I hate walnuts."
"That's the rule. We draw until our food arrives," Gwen explained. "Waiter decides the best drawing, winner gets to choose dessert and you have to eat every bite of it. No jostling elbows or side tracking your neighbors. Today, we draw a dinosaur."
"Because Harry is a dork," Mary Jane added.
Pepper looked back at Tony. He was holding the dessert menu and grinning at her. She knew that grin. It was the one that meant he had an idea and he was going to go through with it regardless if it meant sleeping on the couch or not.
To hell with that. "Give me the purple crayon," she ordered, reaching for the basket.
Steve Rogers balanced his sketchbook on one knee as his pencil moved over the paper in the quick and steady lines of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. But then, art had always been the one thing he'd never questioned. It had always been there for him. He couldn't imagine not being able to draw anymore then he could contemplate not taking Erskine's offer, or not running down the Hydra agent. It was simply part of who he was.
He paused to remove the pipe from his mouth and blow a long, slow, puff of smoke into the air. Smoking was bad for you, and his ability to heal could only cope with so much, which was why he smoked only once a week or less, and at Pepper's request, he did so out on the terrace. Sometimes, the other Avengers joined him, Thor, usually, with the biggest pipe Steve had ever seen, and Tony with a cigar here and there. But for the most part, Steve smoked alone. It didn't bother him, he had his sketchbook and that was enough.
Returning the pipe to his mouth, he resumed sketching, darkening lines, rendering forms until at last, his pipe was empty. Then he gathered up the sketchbook, his tobacco pouch and the case of pencils and headed inside.
As the terrace doors slid shut behind him, Bruce ran into the room, medical kit in hand.
"Bruce?" Steve asked, and then looked over at the elevator as it opened. Doreen, who was looking decidedly green around the gills, was between Peter and a redheaded boy and had an arm around each of their shoulders. Two other teenagers, a red headed girl and a blonde one followed them and behind them came Pepper, Tony, and a blond man.
"Fun fact number one, Steve-O," Tony called out, "Squirrel Girls cannot eat hot fudge sundaes!" He seemed abnormally cheerful, but Steve had come to recognize Tony's various shades of cheerful and right now, Tony Stark was utterly manic.
"George Stacy," the blond man said, holding out his hand.
"Steve Rogers. Good to meet you," Steve replied, shaking firmly but his attention was on Doreen. "What happened?" Peter and the redhead reached the couch and Doreen sat down weakly on it, curling into a ball and wrapping her tail around herself.
"I'd like to know that myself," Bruce replied.
"Fun fact number two," Tony informed them, eyes bright. "Super strength makes for some exceptionally long ranged projectile vomit."
Stacey sighed. "While Doreen has had ice cream, she's never had a hot fudge sundae, which apparently results in food poisoning when you're part squirrel."
"I didn't know!" called out the red haired boy, "I wouldn't have picked it if I had known, I swear!"
"He won the drawing contest," a red haired girl said as though it explained everything. "Even if the Triceratops looked like bad fan art of Land Before Time."
"And I'm paying to have Castle's suit dry cleaned," Tony said. "On the other hand, he invited me to play poker with the mayor next week."
"The mayor hates you," Bruce pointed out.
"Yeah, I know," Tony grinned.
"Oooooooh," Doreen groaned.
"Easy there, Doreen," Steve said, setting down his things. "Here, I'll get you to the infirmary." He moved to pick her up and saw her nostrils widen as she took his scent, then she turned even greener and Steve realized too late that she could smell the smoke on his clothes. Her eyes widened, and then she was clambering over the back of the couch to tumble to the ground. For the moment, silence reigned, and then they heard her throwing up again.
"Jarvis," Tony said into the silence, "add hot fudge sundaes to the list of foods that 'tear Doreen up something fierce'."
"Tony," Pepper sighed. "You're not allowed to mimic Doreen's accent."
"Ever." the redheaded girl put in. "Sorry, Mr. Stark, but even as a stereotypical accent, that was . . ."
"Bad," said Bruce.
"Horrible," said the redhead boy
"Awful," Pepper said.
"The sound of fingernails scratching a chalkboard as a sex pistols song played and cats yowl while demons do things that even the internet would call 'weird' while singing 'O Fortuna' off key and the souls of the damned howl in agony is preferable to how badly off you were," the redheaded girl finished. "In fact, the only thing worse than you is-"
"Mary Jane, that's enough!" the blond girl exclaimed.
"Just who are you people?" Bruce asked.
"I'm sorry, Bruce," Pepper said. "The redheads are Harry and Mary Jane, the blonde is Gwen. They're all friends of Peter's. George is Gwen's father."
Bruce looked at each of them and then nodded. "Charmed," he said, eyes wide and in his 'you people are all insane, what am I doing here?' tone of voice.
The elevator opened again, revealing Coulson, Barton, and Natasha. Barton was between Natasha and Coulson and grinning hugely. Monkey Joe was perched on Barton's shoulder and Coulson was almost scowling. Both Coulson and Natasha were holding Barton's arms in a death grip.
"What is going on here?" Coulson asked. "Who are all these people?"
Pepper ran through introductions once more. "Where have you been?" she asked when she was finished, "and why is Natasha holding Clint's arm like she wants to tear it off?"
"Probably because I do," Natasha growled.
"I regret nothing!" Barton cried out. Monkey Joe raised a paw in the air and chittered loudly, most likely echoing Barton.
"I never thought I would say these words;" Coulson said, "the squirrel is a bad influence."
"Clint decided he wanted to live 'the squirrel life'," Natasha explained as she and Coulson shoved Barton into a chair. "So he and the squirrel went to Central Park. Then, he climbed a tree, took off all his clothes, ate a bag of nuts, and went to sleep on a tree branch. Which is how the cops found him."
"Explaining that he wanted to be a squirrel did not help." Coulson rubbed a hand over his eyes. "We had to do some very fast talking to keep him from being held for psychiatric evaluation."
From behind the couch, Doreen groaned again.
"Enough!" Pepper snapped. "Peter, take your friends to the Rec Room and . . . watch . . . something. Natasha, would you and Clint please help Bruce get Doreen to the infirmary? Tony, go to your lab and if I hear any explosions, I will . . . no. If anything explodes, anything at all, I will hurt you."
"Actually," Stacey said, "I should get Mary Jane and Harry home."
"Aw, but Dad," Gwen protested and Stacey shook his head.
"Week night, and you have school tomorrow."
"Summer school," Mary Jane said with a shrug. "Voluntarily. She actually wanted to go."
"She's so weird," Harry added.
"You two also have summer school, as I recall," Stacey pointed out.
"I'm taking a theater workshop, doesn't count," Mary Jane responded.
Harry only sighed and Steve strongly suspected that Harry was the only one who actually had to take the extra classes in order to keep up.
"Of course," Pepper said. "I'll have Happy take you back to your car."
Gwen and Mary Jane hugged Peter one last time and then they all filed out.
"Phil, would you mind waiting until morning for an explanation?" Pepper asked. "I have a therapy appointment with a glass of wine . . . or five."
"I don't believe that will be a problem," Coulson replied, "I'll need to explain to Director Fury why Barton has lost his mind this time." He and Pepper walked out.
Steve turned to look at Peter but the boy was staring at the terrace doors and when Steve turned to look, he saw nothing until a flicker of movement at the bottom caught his attention. It was a bird, some sort of sparrow, bouncing around, turning it's head this way and that.
"Something wrong?" Steve asked. He knew that Peter had some sort of ability to sense imminent danger, and if the bird was setting it off . . .
"Maybe, I don't know." Peter scowled at the doors. "Do birds spend a lot of time hanging around here?"
"Birds like high places," Steve replied, "and the tower is the tallest building in New York. Why?"
"Just . . . every time I look out a window, I usually see a bird and when i do, I feel like I'm being watched."
Most people would have patted Peter on the shoulder and told him not to worry about it, but Steve Rogers wasn't most people and he'd seen too much to dismiss the idea of spy . . . birds. It sounded weird to even think it, but weirdness was part of being an Avenger. "I'll talk to Tony and have him look into it," he promised.
"Thanks," Peter said, and walked out of the room.
Steve watched him go and then turned back to the doors. The bird was gone, but as Steve headed for his room, he kept an eye on the windows anyway.
Just in case.
Pepper and Tony's bedroom was more like a luxury hotel suite. There was a sitting area, two walk in closets, a bathroom with dual showers and a tub the size of a jacuzzi and even a small kitchenette with a bar.
Sighing, Pepper finished her third glass of wine and reached for the bottle to pour a fourth, finally feeling her stress dissipate. She glanced at her phone, reading again the text message from Bruce that Doreen was asleep in the infirmary and should be fine come morning. He'd added a picture of Doreen asleep on the bed with Monkey Joe curled up next to her head. It was so adorable she wanted to have the picture printed out and framed.
"Great start, Pepper," she said aloud. "Letting your godchild get sick on the second week because you didn't look into her food allergies. Way to go."
"One," Tony pointed out, making her jump because she hadn't heard him come in, "Doreen doesn't have food allergies. Two, talking to yourself is a sign of mental issues and that's my department." He leaned over the back of the couch and kissed her and Pepper felt heat spread to every corner of her body. Life with Tony was never easy, but damn, the man could kiss. "What she has is a hybrid physiology."
"Bruce says she's sleeping it off," Pepper replied, setting down the wineglass.
"Apparently this is not the first time she's had that reaction to something," Tony responded, heading towards his closet. "Lemonade, upchuck city, orange juice, no problem. Vanilla ice cream, hey great. Sherbert, she has to worship the porcelain god. Go figure."
Pepper nodded, feeling a little better as she followed Tony to his closet. Partly because his was next to hers and mostly because she liked seeing Tony undress. "And sleeping it off has worked every time?"
"Yup. Apparently, she heals about as fast as Rogers does, which translates into bouncing back from food poisoning pretty much overnight. Also, vomiting up dinner makes her talkative." He turned to look at her and she almost drew back at the look in his eyes before he sank down on the bed. "How did she do it, Pepper? Two and a half weeks and I'm having a freak out of worry. I mean, I know she's adorable and all, but . . ."
"Welcome to Parenthood, Mr. Stark," Pepper responded, sitting down next to him.
"Hell of a welcome," Tony muttered. "Shouldn't there be at least a champagne brunch or something?" He stood up again and moved to the table, where he began to empty his pockets, still going on about what a welcome to parenthood should entail. Pepper leaned back and let his voice roll over her as he meandered along the topic, his ideas getting more and more grandiose. ". . . and then camel rides along the - hello, where did you come from?" He turned back to her, holding a small booklet in his hand.
"What is it?"
"A guide to Mutant friendly shops, services, and advocates," Tony read from the cover. "New York edition." He looked at her. "It was in my coat pocket."
"How did it get there?" Pepper asked, taking the booklet from him. Inside the cover was a business card for one Charles Xavier, PhD of the Xavier Institute School for the Gifted. The rest of the booklet was exactly what it said on the cover; listings for shops, doctors, lawyers, even counseling services. All mutant friendly.
"Not a clue," Tony replied. "'School for the Gifted, huh?"
"Tony, no." Pepper snapped in a tone she had only used half a dozen times in all the years they'd known each other. "No." Because Tony had that look in his eye, and that edge in his voice. It meant he was contemplating violence and she'd seen it far too often since he'd become Iron Man. Normally, she let Tony be Big Dog of the Yard, and hell, it was even a bit of a turn on, but she was one of the few people who could yank the dog's chain and expect him to heel. She rarely did it, only six times in over ten years. But it was a weapon of last resort, and she used it now.
"But Pepper-"
"No! This is not a threat, it's an offer of help." She snapped the booklet closed. "If we accept, we have this Xavier's card. If not, we are free to use the booklet as we see fit. More to the point, Tony, we spent ninety minutes with George Stacey talking about raising kids and barely scratched the surface. We could read books and blogs until we're blue in the face and still not have everything we need."
"But-"
Pepper stood up, cutting off Tony's objections with one sweep of her hand. "We need help, Tony. Both Peter and Doreen have powers and God knows where that will end. We are both out of our depth. Deeply out of our depth and on top of all that, ON TOP OF, mind you, someone had to have filmed that confrontation on the golf course tonight and it's probably going viral on YouTube as we speak. I guarantee you that by tomorrow morning, the media will be lining up to take potshots at us over it at the very least, not to mention Peter's friends and their families."
"Jarvis?" Tony asked.
"At this point, Sir, I have found only a few twitters, most of them simply noting your presence at Mars 2112 earlier this evening. I am monitoring reddit, and google alerts, as well as several of the most popular blog sites and have not found anything so far. It is possible, Sir, that you escaped unscathed, as it were."
"Possible, but not likely." Tony scrubbed his face with his hands. "What do you have on this Charles Xavier and the Xavier Institute?"
In the middle of the room, a hologram of a man appeared. He was bald, with piercing blue eyes and sitting in a wheelchair. The photo had been taken at some sort of gala, since Xavier was dressed in a Tuxedo. "Professor Charles Xavier, PhD in Genetics with a Master's in Education as well as multiple minor degrees in subjects ranging from law to engineering. He is the discoverer of the 'X-Gene', and proved the existence of mutants, which he dubbed 'Homo Superior'. Xavier is an advocate of Mutant Rights and has appeared multiple times before various government bodies to testify on the subject."
"'Homo Superior', great choice there," Tony said with heavy sarcasm.
"Professor Xavier has since stated he regrets the name. Following his discovery, Xavier founded the Xavier Institute School for the Gifted with one Erik Lensherr, PhD, Electrical Engineering. Lensherr left the Institute soon afterwards, and his current whereabouts are unknown. Xavier himself is the majority stockholder and president of Xavier Enterprises with a current personal wealth of eighty billion dollars, most of which is funneled into the Xavier Foundation, a non profit from which the Institute draws its funding. The foundation counts several notables on its Board of Directors, including Warren Worthington the Third of Worthington Industries, who is a Mutant and was one of the Institute's first students. In addition to his role as the head of the Xavier Foundation and Xavier Enterprises, Professor Xavier is the Institute's Headmaster. While Xavier has no biological children, he is the guardian of Scott Summers, the Institute's deputy headmaster." A second picture appeared of a brown haired handsome man in his early thirties. He wore red lensed sunglasses and the line of his mouth suggested a slight frown. "Summers holds a Masters in Biology and is state certified as a teacher in the same field. He too, is one of the institute's first students, if not the first."
"'School for the Gifted'," Tony mused. "Mutants?"
"There is a high probability of that, Sir."
"Those are interesting glasses, Summers wears," Tony noted. "In fact, those lenses look like quartz of some kind."
"Indeed, Sir. The lenses are a substance known as ruby quartz, a rare crystalline structure that is used primarily in energy research conducted by both Worthington Industries and Xavier Enterprises. According to the Shield Database you stole from the Helicarrier during Loki's invasion, Summers received a traumatic brain injury as a child which impaired his optical nerves. Without the glasses, Summers experiences intense pain and nausea if his eyes are exposed to unfiltered light which can lead to unconsciousness over a prolonged period of time. Summers is married to Jean Grey, a Biochemist. Grey is the head of X.E.'s R&D division and holds a number of patents. She has collaborated with Xavier on several papers regarding the mutant phenomenon and is also an alumni of the Institute."
"Color me shocked. So why is Shield looking at the good professor?"
"The database contains very little information in that regard, Sir. Shield believes that Xavier is doing more than educating mutants, they believe that he is providing mutants with combat training to some unknown end. As of the download, they have been unable to insert agents anywhere significant into X.E., the Foundation, or the Institute or acquire any resources within those three organizations."
"That's some operational security he's got there."
"Quite so, Sir"
"Don't even think it, Tony," Pepper ordered. "I'll handle this."
"He slipped it to me, Pepper."
"Yes, because if he gave it to me, you would go Papa Wolf, grab the Avengers and go on the attack."
"I would not." Tony protested, but the protest sounded hollow.
"Yes, you would. Tony, you shoot then aim and it really pisses me off."
Crap. Ohhhhhh crap. Pepper was mad at him and that was Death Glare number five on her face, which was pretty bad because if he didn't do something he was going find himself in back to back meetings with the guys from internal legal and they made his skin crawl not to mention their comb overs were hideous and now she was looking at him funny and oh crap, he was talking out loud again.
"Death Glare number five?" She repeated and they stared at each other. "Seriously?"
"Well yeah, I mean, you do this thing with your eyebrows and . . ." Tony trailed off as Pepper's eyes widened and they looked at each other some more.
Then, Pepper's lips twitched, her shoulders shook, and then she was laughing, and he was laughing and they were both falling onto the bed, howling with laughter and tears.
"Oh, Tony -Tony," Pepper gasped out. "God, Tony, I love you!"
"I love me too," Tony replied and got swatted on the arm for it.
It seemed like hours they lay there on the bed, gasping and getting themselves under control before Pepper raised herself up on one elbow. "Tony . . . I did mean it. I want you to let me handle this."
"But-" Tony protested and then fell silent as she laid a finger on his lips.
"I will have Natasha there as Natalie if I can, Phil or Steve if I can't. Jarvis will be monitoring the whole thing."
"We commit to nothing," Tony said.
"Nothing," Pepper agreed.
"Good."
"Good." A pause. "Tony?"
"Yeah, Pep?"
"Death Glare number five out of how many?"
Oh crap.
Author's Note: Mars 2112 was a real restaurant in New York City and is now closed following years of deterioration in quality, and the building torn down. According to Google, Mars 2112 was next to Carnegie Hall at the corner of Broadway and 51st. Everything else is based on rough estimates and a general direction.
Other details come from Chapter 6 of "Of Finding Innocence" by fanficwriterghc at ff dot net and my own imagination. I added the golf course and arcade because I could. Also, because let's be honest, if this restaurant did not already exist in Tony Stark's universe, he would build it.
Also, yes, the Castle Doreen threw up on is Rick Castle of the show "Castle", and yes, that's strictly a cameo . . . maybe.