CHAPTER 10: ANOTHER WEEK

"Aren't you Level Seven? You're way over-qualified for this, Coulson."

The agent in question shrugged, "I pissed off Fury last month. He's been putting me on bad missions ever since. What's up with this case?"

"Last night at 2200 hours a group of masked vigilantes broke into this building, knocked everyone - five guards and fourteen workpeople - unconscious and blew up the rather large shipment of imported drugs that was being kept in storage. They handcuffed everyone outside, and 'tagged' the wall, with their name, apparently."

"What's the name?"

The agents walked through the door of the building, to find "Avengers" written in black, stark against the pale grey wall.

"The Avengers. Sounds pretty pretentious." The junior agent said.

Coulson chuckled, "It does, doesn't it. Are there any video feeds?"

"Yes. We've identified four individuals, plus at least one driver. A man in red, a man in blue, a man in purple and a woman in red and black."

"Any audio files?"

The agent nodded, "We're working on extracting them. The audio was pretty badly damaged in the explosion; there's a high chance that it will be unsalvageable."

Coulson hummed, then spoke again, "Any accounts from the workers?"

"Yes. They were very quick, taking the guards out first. The workpeople barely knew they were there until they attacked them. They didn't talk much, and they all wore masks. No way to identify them. They all attacked with fists only, except the man in purple. He used a bow and arrow."

"Did you just say a bow and arrow?"

"Yes sir." The agent replied.

"Huh. Maybe this isn't such a bad case after all."

The number of arms dealers and drug dealers in New York was astounding, Tony realized after their third mission taking out gangs. It seemed that every corner they turned they would find a new base to uncover, a new trafficking ring to expose. The city was riddled with underground crime.

That night - their fourth mission - was taking out an illegal arms dealer that was suspected to be in association with a few more major companies. Tony's job that day was to access the computers to check for possible connections.

"Happy Birthday to me…" Tony sung over the comms, blasting open a lock. "Happy Birthday to me…" He stepped into the massive room full of weapons, and started placing charges everywhere. "Happy Birthday dear Tony…" He left as soon as he could, heading to the room filled with computers. "Happy Birthday to me." He hacked the system within seconds, scoffing at the mediocre (at best) security system, and saved all the data to the flash drive in his hand. He ran out into the corridor, stepping carefully over the unconscious bodies lying in the hallway.

He turned left at the end of the corridor, nearly running straight into Matt.

"Were you just singing the Happy Birthday song? To yourself?"

"Well, it is just after midnight, so…" Tony muttered as they both started running up to the extraction point: AKA roof.

"Wait, did you not tell us about your birthday?" Matt huffed as they ran.

Tony didn't answer, but his silence was telling.

"I guess I didn't see that coming."

Tony groaned, "You're a little shit, Matt."

The ride home was quick, as always, and it wasn't long until all the teens were walking to the den in their pyjamas. Tony and Bruce decided to head to the lab, while the others went to the den.

"Guys," Matt said urgently as soon as they were alone, "It's Tony's birthday today."

"What? He didn't tell us!" Clint exclaimed, "I am offended. We need to plan an epic birthday right now."

The rest nodded in agreement.

"Steve, you go to the kitchen, see what food their is. We'll go to the ballroom and see if there's any bunting or something." Natasha said, and they all nodded and went their separate ways.

Steve arrived in the kitchen a few seconds later, and immediately began looking through the fridge and cupboards in an attempt to find ingredients, until there was a vibration in his pocket. It was a text from Natasha.

01:59 29.05.2010 Nat: Enough stuff to make a cake?

Steve had a quick look through another cupboard, and texted a quick affirmative reply.

02:02 29.05.2010 Nat: Cool. We're all in the party room setting stuff up.

02:02 29.05.2010 Nat: Bruce says Tony is in the workshop, so if you bake the cake now we can drag him to bed a bit later and then surprise him in the morning.

02:03 29.05.2010 Steve: What's my excuse for staying up so late? I felt like punching things?

02:04 29.05.2010 Nat: Sounds good

Meanwhile, in the lab, Tony was fiddling with one of his pet projects, the flying car, on a skateboard underneath the chassis, while Bruce was lounging around playing with holograms.

"Who're you textin'?" Tony asked Bruce, sliding out from underneath the engine.

Bruce looked up, "Oh, Natasha. She can't sleep so I suggested some chamomile tea that really helps me to calm dow-"

"Yeah, okay," Tony interrupted, "Sounds great. I'll be here for a while, so if you wanna go sleep that's cool."

Bruce waived it off, "It's fine. I'm not that tired anyway. We should head to bed soon though."

Tony slid back underneath the car, pulling a spanner with him. Bruce turned back to his phone, firing off a quick text.

02:11 29.05.2010 Bruce: Guys you have about an hour before Tony gets bored.

02:11 29.05.2010 Clint: We'll be finished in 40 mins anyway. Nat and Matt are just putting up some bunting. I'm doing balloons. Steve is on cake. How's Tony watching duty?

02:11 29.05.2010 Bruce: Ok. He's not talking much today.

02:13 29.05.2010 Nat: We'll tell you when to drag him to bed, ok?

02:13 29.05.2010 Bruce: Cool.

Bruce swivelled in his chair slightly, and went back to fiddling with holograms. He was nearly dozing off when a text came through.

02:47 29.05.2010 Nat: Yo, all done here. Get Tony to bed now. Big surprise later.

Bruce turned to Tony, and ignored the protests as he dragged the other teen to the den. The others were all lying in a pile, with Matt and Steve seemingly asleep while Natasha and Clint were reading Harry Potter fanfiction on Natasha's phone.

Soon, they were all fast asleep. Even Tony had nodded off into an unrestful slumber. He never slept well on his birthday.

29th May, 1998

"Dad, Dad!" Tony yelled as he burst into the meeting room, looking for his father.

"Not now, Anthony, I'm in a very important meeting." Howard dismissed, turning back to the board, and continued speaking as if the interruption had never happened.

Tony turned from the room, dejected, and trudged through the long corridors to his mothers room.

"Mama!"

She turned around from her piano, smiling at the small boy.

"What is it, my love?"

"It's my birthday!" he cried, running up to her and jumping into her waiting arms.

Maria Stark smiled at the small child, "So it is. Happy Birthday, mia stella."

She stood, and walked over to the dressing table at the side of the room, opening a drawer to collect the bundle tucked inside. She turned, and handed the delicately wrapped package into his small hands.

He carefully took off the bright red tissue paper, revealing "The Lord of the Rings" by J. R. R. Tolkien. He grinned, and hugged his mother with all his might, muttering his thanks. Maria smiled lovingly down at him, caressing his hair.

"Would you like me to play you a song?" Maria questioned, walking over to the grand piano.

Tony nodded enthusiastically, jumping up next to the woman on the piano stool.

"What would you like me to play?"

Tony paused for a moment, swinging his legs as he thought.

"Nurture," he said decisively, "by Satterthwaite."

Maria nodded, and her hands began to flow over the keys, creating the beautiful but heart-wrenching tune her son had requested.

At the end of the song, she turned to the small child.

"I'm sorry, my love, but I have to leave now. I must go to a gala this evening. I am sorry."

Tony's face fell, but he nodded sadly. He gave her one last hug, and stared dejectedly after her as she left the room. He looked down at his present, the beautifully illustrated cover staring back at him as he tried to stem the tears flowing down his cheeks.

He left the room, and trudged down the empty, barren, cold corridors. He went to his room, and flopped down upon the bed. He curled up in the centre of the mattress, his mothers gift lying on the bedside table.

He didn't know how long he lay there, crying, before Edwin Jarvis walked in.

"Ah, young sir, I've been looking all over for you-" the butler started, but cut himself off when he saw Tony's shaking shoulders. "What is it, young sir?"

"Da- Dad didn't wanna s-s-speak t-to me, an'... an' Mama had t-to l-l-leave."

Jarvis sat on the edge of the bed, and wrapped the small boy in his arms. He muttered soothing words until Tony's tears subsided, and then cleaned the child's face of snot and tears.

"Well, why don't you come down to tea with me and Mrs Jarvis, how does that sound?"

Tony nodded with a small smiled, and took Jarvis's hand as they left the room. They arrived in the small corner of the house where the Jarvis family lived, and Tony perked up when he smelled baking.

Ana Jarvis was pottering around the kitchen, putting a large cake on the table. She looked up at them, smiling warmly, and said, "Hello, dears, and happy birthday Anthony! I've got a wonderful cake here."

Tony bounded up to the table and leaped into the waiting chair. "I noticed," he said, "Thank you very much."

"It's no problem dear," Ana said, setting out three plates on the table. "And how old are you now?"

"Six!" Tony beamed at her.

"Such a big boy," Ana said, cutting a piece out of the freshly baked cake.

"I hope some of that cake is for me," Jarvis said, walking back into the room - Tony hadn't even noted his absence - with a wrapped package in his arms.

From the size and shape, it was probably a book, or a collection thereof, or a box of some sort. Tony had always been good at guessing his birthday presents.

The two Jarvises sat around the table, on cutting and handing out cake and the other handing Tony his present.

"Happy Birthday, Anthony," they said, and Tony couldn't have been happier.

(After that, his birthdays only got worse.

His seventh birthday saw him at boarding school, where someone poured treacle all over him while he was sleeping.

His eighth, Howard screamed at him for hours on end.

His ninth, the Jarvises were ill, his mother was away at a gala, and he spent the entire time in his personal lab, trying not to cry.

By his eleventh birthday, he stopped caring whether Howard yelled or not.

On his fourteenth birthday, at MIT, no-one knew. He didn't tell anyone. He spent that day as he normally did, but no-one noticed his dejected sadness.

His seventeenth birthday was one he would rather forget. A cave in Afghanistan, a car battery tied to his chest and the fear of death hanging over him like a sword suspended by string was not a good way to spend a birthday. At least that year he had Yinsen, who played Backgammon with him in the darkness.)

Later that morning, they woke to Steve's alarm going off. Five teenagers grumbled and tried to roll back over underneath the soft pillows, but Steve had been in the army - in the Howling Commandos; they woke early and stayed up late, despite their own weariness, to kick HYDRA ass and end the war.

So Steve pulled them all out of bed, one by one, and dragged the gaggle of sleepy teenagers to the kitchen. He gave Clint and Tony, who were practically catatonic, a large mug of coffee each, and gave Bruce, Matt and Natasha some strong tea. He made a quick breakfast of bacon and eggs, and before long chatter had started up around the table. After they had finished breakfast and washed and dried and put everything away, the teens cajoled Tony into visiting the Ballroom.

"Come on, Tony, it'll be fun!"

"What's so fun about the ballroom anyway? It's dull as shit in there, guys."

They dragged him along anyway, covering his eyes just as they reached the doors.

"This is either a surprise or a human sacrifice, and I'm scared of both of those options," Tony said, shoulders tense.

They swung open the door, and uncovered Tony's eyes. The first thing he saw was the balloons, red and gold and strung around the room. The banners were red as well, with "Happy Birthday Tony" and "18th" written across them in gold lettering. In the middle of the room was a massive table, surrounded by six chairs, laden with colourfully wrapped presents. The table also had a cake sitting at its centre: covered with red icing with his named piped in delicate blue across the top.

His mothers grand piano sat in the corner of the room, untouched. The sight of it brought tears to his eyes as he turned to his friends.

"Guys," Tony said breathlessly, tears gathering in his misty eyes, "Thank you."

They all smiled, and before long they had sat around the table, handing Tony presents and chopping up cake.

It was the best birthday he'd had in years.

Except Jarvis wasn't there.

That night, curled up in blankets, surrounded by friends, all he could think about was Jarvis. Jarvis, who had always been there for him, patching up his wounds and supporting him in his endeavours.

Jarvis wasn't there anymore.

He cried, after everyone had fallen asleep. He cried like he hadn't since he was a young child, and when he finally drifted off into sleep all he could see was the all-encompassing darkness of the cave, and Yinsen covered in blood, and the deep-rooted pain in his chest only got worse. He couldn't tell if it was the arc reactor or the loss of his mentors.

AN: Happy Birthday Steve!

Detective Phil Coulson is a great Phil Coulson. Also I've been binge-watching Agents of SHIELD. Good show, actually. Very soul-destroying.

Tony is still the best beta ever. She has my eternal thanks.

What did you think of this chapter? Comments and reviews are always appreciated!

~waitisthataship