"'You judge very properly,' said Mr. Bennet, 'and it is happy for you that you posses the talent of flattering with delicacy.'" - Pride and Prejudice, ch. 14
Flash arrives iPhone-first, filming his approach to the door, complete with narration. He trails a large suitcase behind him and the car that deposited both it and Flash pulls cleanly away without a signal from him. Pepper, watching from just inside, can only assume being a distracted disembarker is a habit with this passenger. She squares her shoulders for purposes of intimidation and professionalism and has the door open before Flash can begin to search for a bell or knocker. He puts his phone away and, after introductions, tells her the footage wasn't being live-streamed; she assures him she's aware and that if it had, Tony would have already issued a drone strike for the breach of their privacy. Flash is wide-eyed with childish delight at the joke of death-by-Iron-Man. Pepper overcomes the urge to pinch herself for a reminder that this is Stark Industries' majority shareholder. She motions him inside.
Pepper's happy to take the lay of the land in silence and she gets to―between their guest and her kids (the whole family's present to be introduced), there are zero conversational lulls requiring tactful filling. To her eye, Flash looks about Peter's age, and Harley, a year older, heads the charge, asking Flash enthusiastic questions about his videos. What subtracts from the sweet earnestness of the scene, for Pepper, is the knowledge that Harley would be tearing Flash a new one right about now if the guest had entered the compound with anything other than humbled awe. But Flash, for his unusually self-centered arrival, has good manners, a studied handshake, and an immediate and steady flow of compliments.
He can't look around without verbally admiring the compound's scale or features or war-torn history. Can't look at Tony, who's standing tall with his exoskeleton and his arms folded, without swooning over Iron Man's living legacy. Can't shift from addressing one of the Stark kids to another without mentioning some impressive fact he read about them online―even Morgan, who's flying through the grades while being tutored from home. (Pepper has to mention her youngest child in interviews occasionally or else rumours start, like the one claiming they keep their daughter at the compound to experiment on her, hoping to produce another super-kid like Peter. The reality of the difficulties of attending school as Iron Man's child apparently doesn't strike the press as reason enough for Morgan's homeschooling.) Everything Flash says he's heard or read about the family and the building he also pronounces to have been an understatement; everything's bigger, better, more impressive now that he gets to see it in person, he swears. Then, probably angling for the parents' approval, Flash prophesizes the stellar and blanket success of the Stark kids.
This is where Pepper internally hands over control of their encounter to her husband, who won't be able to resist the opportunity to be both pushy and charming.
"Flash―can I call you Flash? Great. Flash, buddy, that sure means a lot to Pepper and I." He strokes his wife's arm and she tamps her widening grin into an acknowledging smile. "I did a little research myself before you got here, so I know you don't have kids, but, boy, if you did, you'd know how much their future..." He waves his hand like the thought's still coming to him, like it isn't one of thousands of ways to introduce this line of discussion that he mentally test-drove days ago. "... that success you were talking about, how much that's on our minds."
"I can imagine," Flash cheerfully concedes.
"That other thing you mentioned." Tony actually snaps his fingers like he's having trouble with his recall―Pepper almost rolls her eyes. "About Iron Man's legacy? Totally flattered by the way, pal, let me know if I can sign something for you before you leave. Well, there's also my legacy." He touches his own chest lightly, fingers steeped over his heart and the former location of less organic components. "As a son, as a father. As a Stark. Things that I'd sure like to be able to pass on to my kids. You know what I mean?"
"You're talking about Stark Industries, right?" Flash checks eagerly. "The ownership? The shares?"
"Got it in one! Pepper," Tony says, swinging his head to look at his wife while avoiding her cautioning eyes, "I like this guy. Very sharp."
'This guy' beams.
"You gotta see," Tony goes on, "how it's a raw deal for my family, if you decide to take on an active role at SI. Not that I put any of that blame on you. Business," he snappily concludes.
"Man, I know!" Flash agrees, letting his host lead him to a couch. "I didn't want to get right into it and make it seem like that's all I care about, because it's not! The only thing I want to put out there, for now, is that I'm really interested in finding out more about you guys," he says, looking keenly around at Vision, Nebula, and the others. When his gaze reaches Peter, Flash gasps, "Wow, I'm in a room with Spider-Man," then adds more audibly, to the group as a whole, "I hope we can help each other."
Flash rambles on for a while after that until Tony loudly insists that Vision show their guest the room he'll be staying in during his visit. As he leaves, they can hear him commenting on every room he passes, every view out every window. This behaviour was kind of funny when Flash entered, but now, Tony's picturing dollar symbols in the kid's eyes whenever they sweep over something that he built. Tony clenches his jaw enough to give himself the beginnings of a headache, which blows because he has to be careful about painkillers these days. He isn't due for any for another hour and a half, so he tries to relax his face. Maybe he can coax his angry blue daughter into a Pilates session and convince her it's for her own wellbeing. She'll see through him, but what the hell. Lying badly to each other without meaning it has been a critical part of their bonding.
The Starks are happy to push back their regular dinner hour to accommodate Flash's extensive documenting of his visit so far―Peter hears him through the door of his temporary bedroom, addressing the 'Flash Mob' and praising the compound and its inhabitants with enough effusiveness to sound like he's on a sugar rush. When their guest does appear, he seems to have calmed himself. And changed polo shirts.
Pepper's been wanting to request a privately catered meal from Wanda, just for the family, but since Vision and Peter's extended stay at the Park, she hasn't wanted to impose, so dinner tonight is pizza. They never order fewer than a dozen pies at a time; they're keeping the local guy in business, now that the area's built up enough that there is a local guy. Tony complains about not getting to send an unmanned suit or an aircraft with a bigger price tag to Manhattan to grab dinner. His wife tells him to be less of a show-off. It's a suggestion that continues to fall on deaf ears.
Pizza's an undemanding dish, easy to have a conversation around, though Flash has already proven he can keep the words coming. Pepper decides she's heard plenty about their sleek dining room and their taste in pizza parlours, so she nudges their guest in the direction of something it'll be useful to learn more about: Fury's patronage. A few words from her to hint about Fury's interest in and influence on Flash's fledgling career are all it takes to launch Flash into what seems to be his favourite subject. Pepper picked well, but doesn't she always?
Flash is at his most articulate and his most serious when describing his connection to Fury. He comes across almost mature, ready to display how humbling he finds Fury's interest in his work. Never speaking with his mouth full, Flash explains how Fury often gives him feedback on his superhero content without being asked. (Tony snorts and pretends to have burnt his mouth on hot cheese.) How awesome it is for Flash to wake up in the middle of the night and find Fury lurking in his kitchen, or have the director pull an unmarked black SUV up to the curb where Flash is walking and ask him to jump in for a chat. Tony is alternately baffled and horrified; this kid is in love with all the things about Fury that he hates the most. All those adorable spy quirks.
From the way Flash talks about Fury, he's at least aware of the reputation the man has for being a meddling, menacing, manipulating omnipresence, but he claims to have never seen proof of it himself. In his eyes, Fury is helpful and wise, even suggesting―without the teensiest hint of feeling betrayed―that Flash find a business partner. Fury's even told him, after a few instances of breaking into Flash's home, how to reorient his furniture to allow for a hasty escape. Like secret agent feng shui.
"Yeah, that's... nice of him," Tony says with effort. "Seems like you've been exposed to a softer, more domestic side of Fury."
"I keep forgetting that you know him really well!" Flash exclaims.
"I'm fairly confident there isn't a person alive who knows him 'really well.'"
"Well, Carol."
Flash says it casually before reaching for another slice of pizza. His progress with the meal is well behind the others, since he's been doing most of the talking. Tony tries not to reveal how surprised he is that Fury has (according to Tony's current nemesis) a confidante.
"Carol?"
"Danvers. Her and Fury are like siblings."
Tony wants to turn to the nearest screen or ask his family why the name 'Carol Danvers' is familiar, but he's supposed to be on his best behaviour.
"What's she like?" he asks Flash. In his mind, she's a female Fury. Eye patch, trench coat, the whole shebang.
"Oh, she's incredible," their guest enthuses. "She's funny, and strong, and she can fly anything. It's too bad she's not on Earth more."
Tony turns a smug face to Pepper, having figured out (after that last sizable clue) that Carol Danvers is better known to him as Captain Marvel. His wife just gives him a weird look. Right, she probably knew the whole time.
"Of course," Flash goes on, "that's something I've mentioned to Director Fury more than once. What he really liked was when I said that, if Carol operated solely on this planet, she would've been recognized as the greatest Avenger from the beginning. I don't know who enjoyed that compliment more, me or him, and I can't say he doesn't deserve to be told what he wants to hear, after all the help he's given me."
"I'm sure Fury appreciates that very much," Pepper says quickly, before her idiot husband can come up with something stunningly sarcastic. "You're probably a good judge of the difference between a genuine compliment and an ironic one, I'd imagine, because your career revolves around social media."
"Thank you," Flash says, delighted, "I never thought of it like that before. I do sometimes screenshot quotes or mantras or positive affirmations and try to come up with something similar. You never know when you can use something like that, in my line of work."
"So you drop those into conversation?" she wonders, suppressing the word 'plagiarism.'
"Well, I change them a little, to fit the situation," he brags. "And to make sure that it doesn't sound like I prepared them ahead of time."
"Right."
He's as much of a dumbass as Harley warned her he would be. A dumbass, but still a dangerous dumbass, one who owns the majority of Stark Industries. He doesn't seem inclined to wield that power though; despite the phoniness he's just admitted to, his admiration for Fury, Carol, and the rest of the Avengers (Pepper's husband included) comes across as genuine. She exchanges a few glances with Peter, whose face can most frequently be relied upon to mirror her own feelings (though she's better at hiding them), and it's reassuring to see that someone's on the same page.
Later that evening, she calls Tony and the kids back from the parts of the compound they've scattered to. Before Flash's arrival, they promised to concentrate on the guest, but while they're awful at maintaining focus, they can always be counted on to show up when she asks. Unfortunately, they're flagging, her misfits who have gotten so used to isolating themselves, in the face of even more conversation. As a solution, Pepper suggests that Flash could play them some of his videos. Their guest is transfixed by the sight of his own face projected as a hologram; it's the Stark technology version of a home theatre.
The plan doesn't put an end to Flash's talking―he narrates over himself as they witness him on vacation after vacation―but it doesn't involve any back-and-forth, and the family is grateful for the reprieve. Pepper feels something else though. She's a little sad for Flash. Certainly, the young man has been fortunate to get to travel the world, only... these aren't exactly the sun-splashed holidays they first appear to be. At the beginning of each, their guest mumbles something about which of his father's business trips the video was filmed during, and Pepper understands that some of Flash's impetus for filming his travels is being constantly left alone. Maybe he thinks that showing off aggressively enough will detract from the things that aren't there: family and friends.
Tony, who seems unburdened by any such revelation, eggs Flash into playing his Spider-Man videos. The shine in his eyes makes Pepper suspicious; she knows her husband's up to something beyond embarrassing Peter. Their guest agrees without too much sheepishness. Flash's Spider-Man series consists of his theories before Peter's true identity was exposed by The Daily Bugle, his reactions post-exposure, and dozens of attempts to capture footage of Spider-Man swinging by high above street level.
Harley interrupts Flash's mini film festival (and his mom's reflections) to announce his intention of driving into Albany tomorrow or the next day. Although Peter's been minorly mortified for the last half-hour, he joins Vision in shushing Harley (slash punching him in the arm where their mom can't see). It's no good though―Flash is looking insulted and self-conscious.
Pepper works at smoothing things over, but it's an apology from Iron Man himself, plus Vision and Peter, that finally pacifies Flash. Despite his promises that he forgives Harley, Flash won't show any more of his content. Of all the assembled Starks, Peter has the greatest challenge in faking disappointment.
So Flash Thompson is a little moody. A little shallow. A little bit of a basic B. He comes by it naturally. At an early age, he realized it would be a struggle to get his father's attention. When Flash's core plan to accomplish that―following in the man's footsteps by attending business school―didn't manifest results, he emulated his peers instead, doing what the other rich kids were doing, and what the other rich kids were doing was paying the smart, mercenary-minded kids of various economic backgrounds to write their exams for them, thereby leaving school with a degree and zero knowledge behind it. Really, Flash is a success story; at least he created something for himself post-graduation. He has a platform! He has followers! When his father died, he found out he has on-paper control of Stark Industries too! Yay?
Thanks to absentee parenting, Flash developed a personality that's a weird balance of the desire to show off and the desire to be liked, no―loved! No―adored! He brags, but he's ingratiating. He's proud, but he idolizes freely. Had he come of age universally neglected, who knows what would have happened? Instead, he grew a fan base and got a taste of popularity. It's all gone to his head and the entrance of Director Fury into Flash's life story hasn't helped him find any moderation. Fury's patronage, for lack of a better term, is another opportunity for Flash to teeter between arrogance at the association and crawling-on-hands-and-knees humbleness at discovering himself to be right at the heart of the superhero world he's always admired. In a weird way, Fury's become a sort of quarter-life replacement for Flash's father... but there's no way in hell he's admitting to daddy issues.
With the purely monetary side of his inheritance, and the influencer empire he's certain he's on his way to constructing, Flash is looking for one thing during his time with the Starks: a business partner. Sure, he can film videos of himself on his own, but a partner could manage his brand, go to bat for him as things expand and contracts (book deals? Clothing lines? A cologne, maybe?) land on the table. Plus help him manage the big, important shit―his inheritance and the fate of his father's investments.
As someone who longs to be liked, the current scuff on the shoe of Flash's life is the fact that Iron Man and the Iron Fam probably dislike him because of his father's business dealings. Picking one of the Stark siblings as his partner would definitely change that. Once they're part of his company (his personal brand, or however that works), Flash'll still be the one cutting cheques from the SI funds, but the money will be going right back to one of the Starks.
It's an ingenious plan and very altruistic, if he does say so himself. And, completely not about him. Because how could roping the child of a superhero (some of whom are also superheroes) into his business of filming and talking about superheroes possibly be about personal gain?
Meeting them, Flash is even more convinced of his own brilliance. Tony and Pepper (shit, it gives him a thrill just to call them by their first names in his head―he tried doing it in person, on Pepper's request, and stammered out nonsense) clearly view Vision as just as much of a son to them as their biological ones, which is totally perfect. Based on, well, looking like the oldest, plus being undoubtedly the smartest, Vision has to be the obvious choice for Flash's partner from the parents' perspective. Flash chooses him almost immediately, though he keeps a careful poker face in case anyone's trying to guess his intentions.
He reveals the scheme to Tony Stark the next morning, pulling him aside with a grave 'let's talk business' expression. His yearning to make amends with the family is what Flash pushes to the forefront in his short, hushed speech and he really thinks Iron Man hears him, rubbing a finger along that trademark beard of his. Of course, Flash also throws out the bait about paying the selected Stark. He understands that money talks. That all seems to go down pretty well with Tony, so Flash announces that he wants Vision as his business partner. Then his host's expression changes. He doesn't dissuade Flash from the amends or the partner or the money, but he's kind enough not to let Flash hold out hope on working with the Stark who's probably about to become someone else's business partner. Something in the restaurant industry, Tony's vague. He emphasizes, with big ol' compassionate brown eyes, that none of his other kids have business interests beyond SI on their plate.
Flash can't remember afterwards whether it was Tony or himself who raised the possibility of Peter―the Spider-Man!―only how easy it was to accept that idea completely. Vision was his prudent choice. It was his business degree and the ghost of all the advice his father never gave him. Peter's who he wanted to partner with the most. Flash is a huge Spider-Man fan and, besides that, he knows all about (thanks, internet) how smart and gifted the guy is, even outside the super-suit. This is absolutely for the best and Flash almost can't believe his luck. It takes seconds for him to go from picturing Vision at his side in the boardroom (what boardroom and where are not crucial details at this time) to picturing Peter there.
Tony backs out of the discussion because he can read Flash Thompson's face like a book, and can therefore tell that things are going to work out. The guy's obviously going to switch to propositioning Peter with this business offer and it's exactly what the kid needs. It ensures the Starks still have skin in the game with their own company (Tony has no doubt that Peter will be able to gain influence there after putting in some time with Flash's social media presence) and it'll be good for Peter. His son needs something to... bring him back to life. He's here at the compound, he's learning from Pepper, but he's sheltered. He's hiding. It makes sense for Peter to follow through with this when Flash pitches it. Once this goes through, and Vision comes to an inevitable agreement with Wanda on behalf of SI, Tony will have two kids taken care of. No fine print, no loopholes, just the security he's always wanted for them. The only thing he's ever really wanted for them. Tony just has to keep his mouth shut until Thompson makes his move.
Despite the awkwardness the night before, Harley isn't hesitant about reminding everyone that he's driving into Albany today. He restates his intention after brunch―a meal the family usually never eats on purpose, just accidentally if there's a busy morning and they're late having breakfast, but they're being bouji for Flash, he assumes.
The parents declining is no surprise and the invitation wasn't really for them anyway. Nebula says she's staying at the compound too; again, this doesn't shock Harley. His sister's still taking things slow and being in a city makes her jumpy and paranoid. She doesn't love cramming into the car with the rest of them either, which doesn't offend Harley. He hates it too when he's not behind the wheel.
Pepper can tell that the one person Harley's hoping to give the slip to is Flash. Still, she makes a point of encouraging their guest to go for the drive. Oh, she frames it as a nice outing for the 'young people' (she knows her kids suspect her when she talks like an old lady), but secretly, she needs a break from him. She craves the relief of having her office to herself again, because that's where Flash keeps returning like a homing pigeon. Last night, after the videos, when she tried to answer emails after neglecting her work during the day to entertain the guest, he followed her in and sat down with a grin. This morning, he appeared again, ready with easy yet numerous questions about her typical daily schedule. Pepper wants to shut herself in, sit in her chair, and have at least an hour where she isn't tense because she's anticipating Flash's knock at her door. It's supposed to be her space, something her kids and husband have always respected, even in their densest moments. She confesses her motive to Peter, who'll understand and not argue, like Harley would. The second she casts Flash as an annoyance is the second Harley will start trying to play hot potato with their guest.
Apparently, Flash would rather daytrip than talk business anyway, because he says yes immediately. He continues to talk (just not about Stark Industries) and the Starks tolerate him for the duration of the drive. He's lucky to have a captive audience for that long, because it doesn't last once they've parked downtown (in a private parking garage since their ride was, as always, ostentatious) and started walking around. Basically, Flash loses them as soon as they have anything else to focus on.
There are a few admirers―there always are when the Starks go out in public like normal people, especially in a group. Peter reluctantly humours a preteen by striking a Spider-Man pose, presenting his wrists as though about to fire off webs. Flash is mollified by the opportunity to take pictures and video of the Starks interacting with their fans. They try to impress on their guest how much they hate the word 'fan,' how entitled it sounds, but Flash is in sensationalizing mode now. At least he's less chatty, silently mapping out all the potential ways to use this new content, when the last of the not-fans moves along.
It's a Saturday and there's an outdoor market that delights each of them (maybe even Flash―who knows? They don't ask him) for different reasons. The draw for Harley is the booth where the local green coalition repairs damaged electronics, or recycles the parts when something can't be fixed. Drones, hairdryers, whatever. Everybody's got a specialty. Harley's a familiar face and they're happy to chat about his latest project, offering up scraps he might find a use for.
Today, the heap in the recycling bin that's usually tucked away below their table is so large that the bin's back behind their chairs instead. Harley motions his siblings over to check it out, eyes lighting up at the pile of potential (Nebula really should've come today). This stuff doesn't look like junk though. Some of it... some of it's... well, it's rough, but the pieces have been reconfigured to make tools like nothing Harley's ever seen. Before he can ask them what's up, a woman in her late twenties wheels over a dolly loaded with clanking boxes, swishing her dark hair back as she starts to unpack them. It shouldn't be graceful, but it is.
Harley's staring. His mouth might be hanging open. Morgan informs him of this before he can put a hand over his little sister's mouth. It's not just how pretty this woman is, it's that he thinks he's figured out who she is and what she's doing here. This woman, in fact, is the reason for Harley's trip into Albany.
He doesn't want to look like an idiot, so he double-checks with his buddies working the recycling booth, who confirm his theory. The next time the woman wheels a box up to the bins, they wave her over and introduce her to Harley and the rest of the Starks (and Flash, if he's still hanging around―Harley can't spare him a glance) as Liz Allan. She's the person Harley's been tracking on Twitter, the one with the new tech. If he was his brother Peter, he'd be blurting this out, but Harley schools himself a little better than that, calmly shaking her hand.
She's attractive, she's independent, she's into building her own tech by hand! When she begins an easy conversation with the Starks, Harley's ready to declare Liz Allan the whole package. Maybe she's looking at Peter a little too often for his liking, but it's probably just because she recognizes the true face of Spider-Man, or whatever they were calling it a few years ago when Peter's identity was blown. Harley's drawing Liz's attention back to himself, starting to ask her how she got into the do-it-yourself scrap-repurposing gig, when, from the corner of his eye, he sees two people jaywalking―cutting across the street and aiming right for their group. It's Wanda and Michelle.
Unfailingly friendly, Wanda leads off with the greetings, mainly directed at Vision, who's in public looking his most human. She says quickly that she and Michelle drove into Albany early to pick up a few things from a shipping company that wouldn't make the remote (Wanda rolls her eyes) trip to the Park for delivery, and that their next stop was supposed to be the compound to pay the Starks a visit, so this is a nice coincidence.
MJ agrees so that her best friend doesn't sound like a stalkerish weirdo, directing all this attention at Vision. (And because it's the truth.) Speaking of stalkerish weirdoes, she's trying hard not to glance towards Peter, because that never ends well. Instead, her gaze lands on someone behind them. A woman who's just straightening up from a crouch...
Peter's standing angled at his brother's side and notices Michelle suddenly tense up. Reacting offensively or defensively is something he's overly familiar with, and he can't quite tell which this is―offense or defense―but when he turns his head to see what she's looking at, he spots their new acquaintance, Liz, going similarly rigid. Liz waves first, and it's a tiny gesture. Michelle's returning wave is even smaller. Her hand hardly lifts, fingers barely flare back to show her palm. Peter's frowning. What the hell is this about? It's mysterious, even for Michelle, who's never been an open book. He's curious. It's a curse.
He misses the end of the conversation and their neighbours are hurrying back across the road to their car, parked against the opposite curb. His brother hops onto the edge of the booth, blissfully ignorant of whatever wordless weirdness just happened, and Peter can tell that he has a string of questions ready for Liz, but she's wearing a regretful smile and gesturing to the boxes. Duh, Peter realizes, she didn't come here to hang around like they did. Liz actually has work to do―trading parts and doing her own scavenging for what she needs.
It's Harley who suggests that, if now's no good, maybe Liz could meet them for coffee in a couple of hours, provided she's not just passing through town. Peter feels the lightness of relief when she informs them that she's going to be in Albany for a little while. And he feels something flip-floppier when Liz looks right at him with a shy smile and says she'd be happy to grab a coffee later.
They discover that Flash has been filming himself walking around the market and collect him before moving on. As they hit the rest of the places they planned to go, plus everywhere Harley and Morgan have the impulse to stop, Peter thinks back to how Liz and Michelle responded to each other. Flash is in his own world and his other siblings are distracted, so Peter walks along next to Vision, explaining what he saw.
An abrupt change in body language is the kind of thing Vision would've picked up on during a standoff, or a fight, or the kind of event the Starks get invited to, where politicians and businesspeople feel each other out before bringing in contracts and lawyers. Or in any situation where Wanda wouldn't have been present because, truthfully, his full attention was on her. He struggles, as Peter recaps what took place between the two women, to determine who was in the right, if there was a right, but it's impossible with no clue to the context. Michelle is their neighbour and Wanda's best friend. Liz Allan is an admirably enterprising woman whose interests overlap amazingly well with their own. Vision's prepared to side with either of them, only he can't figure out what happened any better than Peter can and reluctantly informs his brother of such.
Though Flash was apparently present for no more than the first few moments of their introduction with Liz, Harley and Morgan go on about her so much that Flash decides he might begin a new series to talk about what he thinks of Liz Allan taking their state by storm with her inventions. Finally, Flash is discussing something Harley's interested in. He starts giving their guest pointers about where to go for research, who to follow on Twitter for mentions of Liz and her tech, why her work is so cool... Beyond that, he isn't sure what Flash should focus on. Liz's backstory or her present? The parts she's found or the things she's turned them into? It can't come together in his mind until they know Liz better, but Harley's already predisposed towards liking whatever they're going to find.
Author's Note:
Poor Flash! It's hard to keep all the attention on yourself when Harley and Peter clap eyes on Liz. But any tension between the brothers will be far less than whatever's going on between Liz and Michelle. Peter's going to hear all about that (Liz's side, anyway) in the next chapter!
To be continued...
