21. Distraction

O

Tony awoke with lethargy, exhausted before he had even completed his transition from sleep. He lay in bed, trying to find the energy to open his eyes, but all he could think about were the daunting list of tasks awaiting him in the day ahead. There was so much to do. There was always so much to do. Sometimes it seemed like life was nothing but an unending line of people who wanted to take, take, take.

He never wanted to run a Fortune 500 company. Stark Industries had been his father's thing and Obie's—look where it got them. Tony just wanted to build things. He could have been perfectly happy living in Arizona working as a mechanic. Maybe he should just run away and…

Shit.

Tony halted his thoughts and ran through mental check list.

"JARVIS," he croaked, through a suddenly dry throat. "It's going to be a bad day."

He didn't have time for this. He swallowed roughly, feeling parched, wishing for something to wet his throat, preferably alcoholic. There was a bottle of rum sitting on the edge of his dresser, left out from something, Tony couldn't remember what. Suddenly, it was all he could see.

"Really bad day," amended Tony, shivering.

He sat up in bed, pulling the covers up over him like a cloak, until only his face was visible amongst the nest of bedding. He'd be just fine as long as he stayed right here. He just needed to calm down.

He got like this sometimes. Everything was just too much and he wanted to run away. Unfortunately, he'd developed a bad habit of leaning on alcohol in an effort to distract himself out of doing something stupid, not that the things he did while drunk were much better. Now he didn't know which urge was the bigger monster. He couldn't afford to let either one win. It wasn't just him who would suffer if he screwed up this time. He had to think about the Avengers and Pepper, all of his employees who were depending on him.

No, Tony couldn't have anything to drink, because on a day like this there was no way he would stop at one.

It just felt so hopeless. He didn't have the energy to fight all day long. Tony closed his eyes, feeling like crying, but he pushed it down. He was shaking as he clutched at his sheets.

"Pepper is cancelling all of your appointments," announced JARVIS, speaking softly.

"Tell her…Tell her…" He didn't know what to tell her.

Tony rocked on his bed.

"Sir," interrupted JARVIS, hesitantly, "forgive me if I'm overstepping, but Iron Man doesn't drink."

Tony bowed his head. He shouldn't. He should be stronger than this.

No, he was going to fail. That Tony Stark, always such a disaster. Look what he did now.

"Please," he whispered.

The door to his bedroom opened and Tony shifted away, hiding from the open door. He could hear footsteps approaching the bed. Strong arms swept him up like a small child allowing the blankets to fall away. He was held close, safe. Tony closed his eyes, letting his feverish forehead rest against the cool metal.

"JARVIS."

"I have you, sir."

The armor began to shift and Tony went from encased in Iron Man's arms to encased in Iron Man. The warm, safe, protected feeling remained the same. Tony went boneless with relief, but Iron Man remained standing strong.

O

"I don't normally see you this time of day," said Steve with some surprise as he looked up from his breakfast.

Iron Man settled gingerly onto the bench, still not completely adjusted to sitting in the armor even after all of this time.

"I take this time to be myself so I can accompany the team and Mr. Stark the rest of the day," he admitted, carefully skirting the truth.

Steve nodded around a spoonful of oatmeal, but his next question was obvious.

"Mr. Stark is taking a mental health day," Iron Man answered without waiting to be asked. "He won't be needing my services today."

Steve mouthed the words "mental health day" as though sounding them out in his head. He looked confused.

"He's playing hooky," said Iron Man.

Steve said nothing but he frowned disapprovingly.

Tony sighed within the suit.

"He doesn't understand," whispered JARVIS's voice into the internal speakers. "Try again," he ordered.

Ever since JARVIS decided that the animosity between Steve and Tony stemmed from their "mutual inability to properly interpret each other's social cues," he had tasked himself with preventing further misunderstandings. Since JARVIS only had private access to Tony's hearing, his self-appointed task was proving most annoying. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, depending on the perspective; JARVIS's efforts appeared to be having some success; Tony and Steve hadn't had a fight in weeks.

"Mr. Stark isn't feeling well today," explained Iron Man. "He's not actually sick, but he's taking the day off in the hopes that tomorrow will be better."

"Oh."

It was like watching a light bulb turn on. Steve's entire posture relaxed slightly and his expression softened.

"Tell Mr. Stark that I hope he feels better," said Steve with a sympathetic smile.

"I will," promised Iron Man, as Tony marveled privately at the change in attitude.

Steve pushed away his empty plate, giving a satisfied grunt.

"I should get ready to go," he said with a sigh.

"What do you do all day?" asked Iron Man, curiously, though it was difficult to tell through the flat affect. "I've never really asked."

"Different things," replied Steve with a shrug. "Today I'm heading over to SHIELD. They want me to run an obstacle course with a group of trainees. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I've been auditing a couple of classes at NYU."

"Really?" Iron Man perked up with interest. "What are you studying?"

"I don't know if I'd really call it studying anything. They're just a couple of classes that SHIELD recommended: a beginner's computer course, and an introduction to college life."

Iron Man stared at him in silence while inside the suit Tony snorted in disbelief.

"What idiot picked those classes?" he asked JARVIS privately.

Steve blushed and reached up to rub the back of his neck.

"I know," he admitted with embarrassment. "Because waking up seventy years in the future is just like going off to university for the first time." He smiled self-depreciatively.

"Have you learned anything?"

"Some." Steve blushed again. "I had never thought of sex as something that could kill you."

"You just haven't been doing it right," muttered Iron Man, without thinking.

Steve coughed. "What was that?"

"Nothing," said Iron Man, staring at him innocently.

"You're not very good at this, sir," said JARVIS over the internal speakers.

"Shut up," threatened Tony in return. "There will be no comments from the peanut gallery."

Steve glanced at his watch as he stood from the table. He collected his dirty dishes and moved to the sink where he quickly had them washed.

"I have to leave now," he said, "but I hope you enjoy your free day."

O

Tony stared up at the brilliant blue sky watching the clouds float past him. There was nothing quite like the view from the roof of his building on a sunny New York day.

"How are you doing?"

"Still shaky," said Tony with disgust. "But inertia's helpful at keeping me out of trouble. I'll just lay here and let my troubles float away."

Iron Man waved his hand through the air.

"I do not understand this emotion," said JARVIS. "Isn't this a good thing?"

"Oh, yes, wonderful," said Tony sarcastically. "I'm hiding inside Iron Man like a pathetic coward because I'm too weak to face my own life."

"That's not what I see," said JARVIS, quietly. "I see a man strong enough to admit that he needed help. Just a year ago, you wouldn't have."

Tony sighed within the suit.

"I'm frustrated," he admitted. "I shouldn't be like this anymore. This was the Old Tony's problem."

He was quiet for a moment, just Iron Man lying on a roof.

"I thought I was a better person." Tony squinted. "Is it just me or does that cloud look like Dum-E?"

"I think you're getting off track, sir."

"There is no track, JARVIS. That's the whole point. I'm off the rails on the crazy train."

This time JARVIS was the one to sigh.

"Dr. Banner is heading towards the kitchen to make his lunch. I think you should join him."

"So I can watch him eat? What good is that going to do?"

"You've had enough alone time, sir. Go downstairs."

O

Bruce looked up from the sandwich he was building.

"Hey, Iron Man." He looked around with a confused expression. "Where's your shadow, er, shadowee…Tony?"

"It's my day off," replied Iron Man.

Bruce carried his plate to the table and upon sitting down focused all of his attention on his meal, glancing up just once in curiosity.

"You get those?"

"On occasion."

The corner of Bruce's mouth twitched into a half smile.

"You deserve it," he said, wiping crumbs from his mouth. "The Avengers can be a full-time job and Tony Stark is at least three between time spent at SHIELD, Stark Industries, and the private labs. To be honest, I'm amazed you manage to sleep."

"Sometimes he doesn't," JARVIS told Bruce helpfully.

"Thanks a lot," muttered Tony privately, ducking Iron Man's head.

"Next time, make sure he does, JARVIS," ordered Bruce with a friendly grin. There was a slight pause. "That goes for both of them."

"I shall make every effort, Dr. Banner," promised JARVIS.

"So what have you been up to with an entire day of nothing to do?"

"Puttered around a bit," answered Iron Man evasively.

"Bored out of your mind already?" asked Bruce with an amused smirk.

"Yes!" Iron Man looked away rather sheepishly. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only because I know you," said Bruce with a grin. "You're welcome to join me in the labs. I'm working with the starfish again."

Iron Man tilted his head from side to side, debating. On the one hand, it was always fun working with Bruce and he'd certainly keep his mind occupied and away from dangerous thoughts. On the other hand, Iron Man wasn't really suited for tiny detailed lab work. Plus, he wasn't sure he could remember to be Iron Man once he became involved in the research.

"Thank you," said Iron Man slowly with reluctance, "but I must decline."

Bruce shrugged, giving Iron Man a friendly smile.

"You know where to find me if you change your mind."

He ate in silence. Iron Man sat beside him, finding the simple presence of another human being to be soothing. As Bruce was cleaning his few dirty dishes, he spoke again.

"You know, if you're looking for something to do, you should catch Clint once he wakes up."

"He's still asleep?" Tony used a flick of his eyes to enlarge the chronometer on the holographic display. "It's one in the afternoon."

Bruce gave Iron Man a disapproving glare.

"He's allowed the sleep in," he said. "Especially since he didn't get home until near dawn."

"You pay a lot of attention to our habits," remarked Iron Man.

Bruce stared at the floor.

"You know what it's like to miss missions," he said, softly, still speaking to his feet. "Even when the Hulk makes the mission, I still don't get to help."

"So you're trying to make it up to us by being a mother hen," said Iron Man, speaking without thinking.

Bruce glared.

"I didn't mean it like that!" spoke Iron Man, hurriedly, holding up his hands. "It's…it's nice. Unnecessary, but nice."

"Someone needs to watch out for you all," he said.

"Someone always is," replied Iron Man.

JARVIS said nothing.

O

"What's going on here?" asked Steve as he entered the living room.

Clint and Iron Man were sitting on the floor, hands busy, eyes intent upon the television. Clint sat cross-legged while Iron Man had his legs straight out leaning forward at the waist with impossible flexibility. The image on the screen was a vivid burst of color and rapidly changing scenery.

"I'm winning!" crowed Clint. "I can fly better than Iron Man."

"He won't let me plug directly into the system," grumbled Iron Man, as his plane crashed into the ground.

"That would be cheating," said Clint, leaning over to gloat.

"My gloves are bigger than the controllers." He wiggled his fingers in the air. " You have an unfair advantage."

"He's just a sore loser," replied Clint, turning to find Steve staring at them. "What's up?"

"You can connect your.." Steve waved his hand towards Iron Man. "Your you to the computer game? Why would you do that?"

"So that if the fate of the free world should ever depend on me saving the princess, I can do it."

Steve turned to Clint with a helpless expression.

"Look," said Iron Man, holding up one hand apologetically. "You said it yourself when you called it a computer. The armor's designed to synch up and adapt to that kind of software. The fact that I can use it to play games is just a bonus."

"I still don't understand why."

"Because I can." Iron Man gave a shrug. "Why wouldn't I?"

"So wait," interrupted Clint. "You helped design the suit?"

"I'm not just a pretty face," replied Iron Man.

"You're not a face at all," said Steve, shaking his head.

"I have a face," said Iron Man indignantly. He knocked hollowly on his helmet. "Look: eyes, a mouth; no nose, but I'd just look silly with a nose."

"Yes, you're a modern day Helen of Troy. How did I never notice?"

"Willful blindness, I suppose." Iron Man tossed the controllers to Steve. "How about you give it a go? Let's see what an old man can do."

"Wait; shouldn't we go more old school?"

Iron Man cocked his head considering the idea.

"You think?" he asked Clint. "You don't want to dazzle him with the best?"

"Would he have appreciated the effects in the Lord of the Rings as much if he hadn't once thought of the Wizard of Oz as the height of technology?"

"You have a point," admitted Iron Man. "So should we go Space Invaders or Mario Brothers?"

Iron Man and Clint looked at Steve with intent focus.

"Space Invaders," decided Clint with a serious nod.

They opened the game closet and pulled out the rolling cart with an Atari 2600. Iron Man unraveled the joystick while Clint set up the system. Steve merely took a seat upon the couch, humoring them with a good natured smile.

"Stark should market this thing," said Clint, giving covetous glances at the universal adaptor Tony had built to simplify changing out gaming consoles.

"Too many copyright regulations," said Iron Man.

"Such a pity." Clint petted the device lovingly as Steve stared at him like he had lost his mind.

Iron Man shrugged. Some things defied explanation.

O

"Pardon me," said JARVIS, interrupting the video game session that had moved from aliens to the world of Italian plumbers. "Doctor Banner needs Iron Man's assistance in the kitchen."

The three men exchanged curious glances as they paused the game.

"He knows I'm no cook," said Iron Man.

"Maybe he needs you for heavy lifting?" suggested Clint.

Iron Man shrugged as he stood from the couch. He made his way to the kitchen where Bruce had decided to cook dinner for the Avengers. There was large pot steaming on the stove. Tony instinctively took a deep breath because he knew how good Bruce's cooking usually smelled but none of the aroma made it past the armor. Bruce had his back to the door with his attention focused on the loaf of French bread in his hands. An assortment of cheeses were scattered across the counter.

Bruce spun around at the first clink of Iron Man's foot hitting the marble floor.

"Oh, good, you're here," he said, opening one of the cupboards. He pulled out a plate and a bowl. Grabbing a clean spoon from the sink, he quickly scooped a hearty serving of stew into the bowl. Two hunks of bread slathered in butter joined the bowl on the plate. Bruce held it out to Iron Man.

"What's this?" asked Iron Man, making no move to take it.

"You need to eat. Take it and go find a bit of privacy while I finish the sandwiches."

"No, thanks," said Iron Man, taking a step away from the food. "I'm good."

Bruce set the plate on the counter and crossed his arms stubbornly.

"No, you're not. You haven't eaten all day."

"You don't know that," protested Iron Man.

"You didn't eat with Steve this morning," Bruce said holding up one hand and ticking off his points. "You didn't eat lunch with me. You were with Clint all afternoon without eating. And you didn't eat while you were alone because I asked JARVIS and he told me so."

"You and I are going to have a long discussion about privacy," hissed Tony, inside the suit.

"Please don't be stubborn, sir," JARVIS told him.

"I'm not…" Tony closed his eyes. "Iron Man doesn't drink. Iron Man doesn't eat."

"Iron Man," said Bruce, bringing Tony's attention back outside of the suit. "I don't know what's going on with you today. I don't know what the problem is, but you can take fifteen minutes to eat a bowl of stew. It's goat. I promise it's delicious."

Bruce's expression moved from stubborn to pleading as he spoke.

Iron Man nodded once. Iron Man took the plate with a hand that remained steady.

"We'll see you at dinner," said Bruce softly. He turned back to layering cheeses between slices of French bread.

O

"I've never had grilled cheese like this," said Steve. He took a bit of the gooey sandwich and chewed it slowly with a look of bliss on his face.

"I used a mixture of Brie and Tomme de Savoie for the cheeses," replied Bruce, with a pleased smile at Steve's reaction. "I wanted a more adult flavor," he explained.

"What's this?" asked Clint, poking at the stew. He leaned over the bowl to smell it.

"It's goat. I've had versions of this stew pretty much everywhere I stopped when I was on the run." Bruce gave an uncomfortable shrug. "This is my version. Try it. It's good. I like it."

"It's wonderful," said Iron Man.

"You ate some?" asked Clint suspiciously.

Iron Man nodded.

"Just a few minutes ago," he said. "Absolutely delicious."

"So there really is a person in there?" Clint leaned forward eyeing Iron Man with a glint of humor in his gaze.

"Of course he's a person," exclaimed Steve, offended on Iron Man's behalf.

"Clint," said Bruce warningly, rolling his eyes. "You have to excuse him. His favorite game lately is coming up with outlandish explanations for your secret identity."

"You've been trying to figure out who I am?" said Iron Man slowly, sounding shocked.

"Not seriously," replied Bruce. He glanced sidelong at Clint. "At least, I hope not," he added.

Clint rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't that crazy. I'm not saying I actually believed it, but yeah, Stark built Iron Man. Who's to say, other than, you know, you," he nodded towards Iron Man, "that the suit's not actually hollow? Iron Man could be run by computer and we'd never know."

Iron Man froze. A strange noise that they had never heard before began emanating faintly from underneath the armor. He bent over the table, one hand clenching and unclenching from a fist as it tapped gently at the wood surface. Steve leapt from his seat, bending over Iron Man with concern.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked, his hands hovering just above the armor.

"Hysterical laughter," said JARVIS's droll tone into the room. "I'm afraid he might need a moment to get himself under control."

"That's laughter?" asked Clint, disbelievingly.

Bruce let out a snort that he turned into a cough.

"Very loud laughter," agreed JARVIS. "One might go so far as to call it howling."

Iron Man sat up and tapped himself gently on the chest.

"Oh My God," he said, breathlessly. "Thank you. I needed that."

"Err, you're welcome?" said Clint.

"Are you sure you aren't dying?" asked Steve again.

"I'm quite well, my friend." Iron Man patted Steve on the shoulder.

"You know," said Clint, as he swallowed an overflowing spoon of stew. "This is nice. Why don't we do this every night?"

"You mean: why don't I take the time out of my busy day, every day, to cook for you ungrateful lot?" asked Bruce, with amused sarcasm.

"Yes, exactly that," replied Clint.

"There's also the fact that you only know how to cook four things," reminded Iron Man.

"I can cook more than four things."

Iron Man waved his hand.

"Breakfast doesn't count. Even I can cook breakfast."

"Iron Man, the food critic," quipped Steve. "Who knew?"

O

Iron Man shuffled into the bedroom feeling pleasantly tired and relaxed. He stopped at the edge of the bed and flopped down upon it.

"Ouch," complained Tony, as he jostled around inside the armor. "Note to self: not as comfortable as it looks."

Iron Man spread out like a starfish.

"Do you plan on sleeping inside the suit?" asked JARVIS, dubiously.

"Hmm? No." Tony wiggled, shaking Iron Man on the bed. "Lemme ou'," he mumbled.

The armor's arms folded away from Tony reforming to hold the rest of the armor in position. The chest of the Iron Man opened depositing Tony onto the bed while the suit leaned over him. Iron Man pulled away to stand at guard at the end of the bed.

"How are you doing, sir?"

"Sleeping," said Tony petulantly.

"I'll just leave you to it."

"No! Stay." Tony raised his head, becoming more coherent.

"I could hardly do otherwise, sir."

Tony let his head flop back down onto the bed with a tiny smile.

"That's why I like you, J. Always here."

Tony closed his eyes.

Iron Man pulled the blankets up to cover Tony's shoulders. JARVIS shut out the lights.

O

O

O

AN:

Sorry about the delay. I struggled a bit with this one, and, well, there were distractions. Let's be honest; anyone who has visited my dashboard knows where my mind was last month.

I need some specific feedback on this chapter. There's quite a bit of back and forth between Tony and JARVIS inside the suit that seems clearly delineated to me but I'm not sure how it reads to people that don't live inside my head. What did you think?

Edited 2-8-14