"Don't you know too much already?

I'll only hurt you if you let me

Call me friend but keep me closer (call me back)

And I'll call you when the party's over"

- Billie Eilish

(A/N: Here's a semi-filler chapter. Still has a couple scenes from the Iron Man movie, however. The Battle of Los Angeles will be the next chapter! Please let me know how I'm doing; faves/follows and reviews are always appreciated!)

Danny was unreasonably relieved to see Pepper the following morning. She had come in to drop off some things for Tony before planning to head out. Apparently, there was a charity ball hosted by Stark Industries scheduled for later in the evening in favor of the Firefighter Family Fund, and Pepper was in charge of confirming the final preparations. Danny asked to tag along; anything to get out of the house and avoid any awkward revelations with Tony.

The day had been relatively uneventful, with Pepper focused on the finishing details and Danny following her around, trying to be as helpful as she was allowed to be. Pepper had been kind enough to have Happy pick up a dress for her, already knowing things like that were somewhat of a luxury for the young woman.

Having lived in the east coast for most of her life, and given her prior circumstances, Danny never would have dreamed to go to California. Now she was going to be at the freaking Disney Concert Hall, of all places.

Parties weren't really her thing – at least, they hadn't been. At any rate, the event wasn't for some corporate stooge (even though many reporters outside would consider Tony exactly that), but rather a benefit that was held annually. Danny enjoyed the occasional get-together for holidays and special occasions, but this large event with most of the employees of SI was new territory for her. No one knew her and she knew no one, but a small bout of anxiety had slowly crept up on her as the night wore on. When more people started to arrive at the party, Danny slinked off into the ladies' room to catch a breath.

Leaning against the sink, Danny took a glance at herself in the mirror. God, she looked like a hot mess. Her blonde hair was on the verge of falling out of its bun, and the white lacey cocktail dress that Pepper gave her was bunching up at her hips. Attempting to salvage her appearance, Danny pulled her hair down and ran her hands through, letting it settle on her shoulders. She let out a deep sigh as the bathroom door opened.

A look of concern washed over Pepper's face when she saw Danny standing at the counter, appearing distressed. "Feeling okay, honey?" she asked, giving the girl's arm a comforting squeeze.

"I'll be fine. Fancy events are just not really my scene," Danny revealed, smiling at Pepper through the mirror. She was wearing her red hair curled down, and the deep blue dress that complimented her brought out her eyes. "Pep, you look beautiful."

Pepper responded, "I sure hope so! Tony bought me this dress."

"Tony chose this?" Truly unbelievable.

"Well, technically, I got it for myself on his behalf, since he forgot my birthday."

"That sounds more like it," Danny snickered at that. "I'll see you back outside?"

"Don't do anything too crazy now."

Danny rolled her eyes, smiling. "Wouldn't dream of it."

It seemed like there were more people on the floor now than there was before Danny had popped into the bathroom, if that was even possible. The classical music provided good background noise to punctuate the sound of murmurs, which resembled the sound of heavy rain in her ears. She made a beeline to the open bar, requesting for a Shirley Temple to wash down her nerves and also give her hands something to do.

A bill was placed into one of the clear glasses on the counter. Someone rattled off his order to the bartender: "Give me a Scotch, I'm starving."

Sipping at her drink, Danny turned to the man who had walked up beside her; he was wearing a fitted tuxedo with a bowtie and had his hair combed back neatly. She returned a reserved smile when he flashed her his signature grin.

"You clean up nice."

"As one does, when associated with you," Danny responded in jest. "I'm actually surprised to see you here."

"What has the world come to that I had to crash my own party?" Tony said, leaning against the bar. He spotted the cherry-topped drink in the girl's hand and grimaced. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

"It would be illegal otherwise," Danny reminded him, pointedly drinking her nonalcoholic drink.

"I still can't quite wrap my head around you not touching alc in all your years," he said absentmindedly. "I could never."

Nervously, she wrapped her fingers around the cool glass before getting his attention again. "Tony, about last night –"

"Don't worry about it. Water under the bridge." He picked up his drink and took a tentative sip, licking his lips after. "Look, I realized today that I should be the last person to judge what you'd gone through, considering –" Tony tapped his chest; Danny heard the faint noise of the Arc Reactor "– I'm not entirely myself either."

"You're not… worried? Or angry that I could…" Potentially kill you in your sleep, she almost said but didn't.

"Should I be?"

Danny wasn't sure how to respond. She was already thrown off by his unpredictable reaction, and this acknowledgement was the literal cherry on top. Before she could voice a reaction, however, a man wearing a suit just a little too big on him walked up beside Tony.

"Mr. Stark," he said briskly.

Tony angled is body towards him. "Yeah?"

"Agent Coulson."

Vague recognition registered on Tony's face, and Danny had to stop herself from snorting out a laugh. He stuttered out, "Oh yeah, yeah, the guy from the… the…" He made eyes with Danny, almost asking for help.

Fortunately, Agent Coulson finished for him, "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

A slight chill ran along the length of Danny's spine and she tried shrugging it off. What exactly could SHIELD want with Tony? Danny glanced at the agent, inspecting his movements. The slightly oversized suit was smart; she couldn't place where he had his gun tucked away.

Tony brought his glass to his mouth and took a sip of his scotch. "Phew. God, you gotta get a new name for that."

Coulson kept a respectful smile on his lips, unperturbed by Tony's casual bluntness. His eyes flickered to hers momentarily. "Yeah, I hear that a lot."

Danny grasped her drink with one hand and swung it back, all but chugging everything down. She needed to make a quick exit because this conversation was getting real tense, real fast –

Except Tony's fingers lightly wound themselves around her wrist in one swift move when he leaned back into the bar. Their eyes met and Danny could see the clear sign of Help me. Already having graced the presence of SHIELD herself, she couldn't blame his hesitance.

"Listen," Coulson began, "I know this must be a trying time for you, but we need to debrief you. There's still a lot of unanswered questions, and time could be a factor with these things. Let's just put something on the books: How about the twenty-fourth at seven p.m. at Stark Industries?"

Tony was hardly listening to him throughout the entire one-sided conversation, his eyes finally catching on Pepper's form standing across the room. By the look on his face, he probably thought she was breathtaking. Tony held out a hand to shake, which Coulson took after he said, "I'll tell you what, you got it. You're absolutely right." The glass of scotch clinked against the bar when he put it down, still distracted. "I'm gonna go to my assistant and… we'll make a – date."

Both Coulson and Danny watched as Tony stepped away. The latter stared daggers at his back, catching herself from cursing under her breath. A cherry was picked from her glass and she bit it between her teeth. Danny was probably visibly stiff having been left behind with the agent, and for all she knew he had a gun already aimed for her head. The silence between them was almost deafening.

"Ms. Barton, I don't believe we've had the pleasure." Agent Coulson reached a hand out, smiling at her and introducing himself. "Phil Coulson."

Relaxing a little, she took his hand and shook once. She noted the rough callouses and how her hand seemed so small compared to his. "Sir, it's nice to meet you. I'm Daniela," she responded. A heartbeat passed before she rolled her eyes at herself, adding, "Sorry, you already knew that."

"I'd say I wish we met under better circumstances, but…" Coulson motioned around them, a ghost of a grin dancing on his face. "What's a better place than a Stark event, huh?"

Danny nodded along respectfully, still on her guard. Looking around at the guests and the lingering bartender, she motioned for him to follow her to a less populated part of the large ballroom. "So, you said you work for SHIELD?" she asked him, gauging his reaction.

"Huh. 'SHIELD'. I like that," Coulson muttered under his breath. To Danny, he answered, "I've been with the agency for some time now, yes. Even had a couple of missions with your brother, in fact."

She let the tension in her shoulders give away. If this guy was good enough for Clint to trust on his side, then maybe she could trust him a little bit. Just a little. "You know Clint?"

"Very well. He's a good man, a great agent, and an even better brother." Coulson smiled, and this time Danny could tell it held genuine fondness. "Clint fought hard for you, you know, when others believed you to be too dangerous."

"You've seen my Index assessment, then?"

"I have."

Danny took a moment to digest that, taking a breath. There was something left unsaid, an implication in the agent's words. Clint fought hard to keep you alive because everyone wanted you dead. The Sharp One stirred in her mind, and Danny kept it at bay. The blonde turned to the slightly balding man and cocked her head in curiosity. "If I ask you something, Agent Coulson, will you be honest with me?"

"As honest as I can be," he said.

Danny grew serious, her demeanor changing dramatically. Cautiously, she asked in a low voice, "With everything I'd done, everything you could've read on me… Do you see me as just the monster?"

He let out a huff from his nose, amusement written across his features. "I learned a long time ago not to judge people on things they couldn't control," Coulson answered wholeheartedly. "I can't pretend to understand; you've gone through some shit. But you're here, and you're in good company." The agent bit back a remark when his head bobbed side to side in contemplation. "Eh. Scratch that. Tony Stark's debatable company to have around right now."

Danny laughed, shaking her head. Whoever had the gall to poke fun at Tony was someone she could keep in her corner.

Coulson reached into his breast pocket and took out a card. He handed it to her. "If you ever need anything, don't be afraid to call my office. I'm a lot nicer than Agent Sitwell."

She scanned the business card, her eyes lingering on the eagle insignia on the corner and the name: Phillip J. Coulson. When Danny looked up, he was already walking away. She called after him, "Wait, Coulson, one last question."

He turned keenly, lips pressed into a line.

"Did you really come here for Tony… or for me?"

The expression on his face didn't falter. "It was nice meeting you, Ms. Barton." And then, he was gone.

Their voices had floated up from the workshop below; loud enough mostly because the holes in the floors weren't fixed from Tony's test-run from a couple of days prior. He and Pepper had been arguing for a few minutes already by the time Danny had gotten her bearings straight. She lay in bed and merely stared up at the ceiling, listening.

From what she gathered initially, Pepper had found Tony getting out of his suit this morning. They were arguing about dangerous escapades and bullet-holes, whatever that was about. But the topic quickly shifted to her when Tony nonchalantly mentioned Danny's involvement with the suit's development, and Pepper went ballistic.

"Risking your life and getting shot at is one thing, Tony, but –"

"I don't see what you're so anal about, Pepper. You saw us work on this. Danny's never been in any danger –"

"That was before I knew it was this, Tony! She's not even old enough to drink!" Pepper's voice was breaking from her frustration. "Danny's just a kid."

Tony responded, "She's a kid that knows her way around tech and is really good at it. Danny helped build this thing! Do you know how –"

"Don't change the subject, Tony!"

"Pepper, you're not listening to me."

Their conversation dropped in volume. Maybe they had finally stopped shouting at each other. Hopefully. Danny took the pause to throw off her sheets and run her fingers through her knotted hair. The lights in the en suite bathroom were just too bright this early in the morning; Danny shoved a toothbrush in her mouth and speedily cleaned.

By the time Danny had changed clothes and was padding down the stairs, she could hear Pepper's heels clicking in the foyer. Pepper all but slammed the front door as she left, and no sooner did crashing come from the workshop below.

That sounded destructive, the Sharp One commented.

What an astute observation, Danny huffed sarcastically. She kept her mouth shut as she descended to the workshop, seeing the glass windows shattered and debris all over the floors. She gripped the handle of the still intact door out of habit, deciding to just go through the broken windows and step through the shards of glass.

"Good morning, Ms. Barton," JARVIS said in greeting.

Danny almost smiled before realizing it was an AI that probably didn't understand social cues. Or maybe, because it was Tony's AI, it did. "Hi, JARVIS," she responded instead.

Her eyes scanned the workshop. The large contraption Tony had built to help remove the pieces of his mech armor was in the middle of the floor, big and yellow and ugly. It was halfway through with fitting back into the ground; the red and gold suit was dismantled, but even from where she stood, the scraped paint and littered bullet-holes were prominent.

No wonder Pepper was so mad.

"Tony? It's me."

His figure came into view a few moments later, wearing some sort of one-piece flight suit and jeans. Tony pulled an apologetic look when he saw her, knowing full well that his ward likely heard most of the heated conversation. His brown eyes switched from her, to the mess of glass, to the disappearing suit. "Hi, kiddo," he sighed, almost defeated.

If she knew any better, it would have been wise to avoid talking about the argument. It wasn't her place, and it would've just rubbed the issue in Tony's face again. "Let's go out. Breakfast?" Thankfully, she did know better. "I'm feeling pancakes."

He was in the middle of shoving his feet into a pair of shoes when he said, "Actually… Yeah. Why not?" Tony smiled in relief, probably glad that he wasn't going to be yelled at twice in one morning. "I know this cozy little diner off the highway," the man offered. He power-walked across the room, going to the counter on the far wall to snatch a set of keys. Tony turned, saying, "You drive," and Danny flailed for a second when he threw the keys to her.

She caught the jingling keys with ease but pursed her lips after. "I can't," she revealed, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry?" Tony was already standing at the passenger side of his Mercedes, door wide open. "What do you mean you can't? Like, can't drive stick?"

"I mean, no one's ever taught me how to drive a car, period." She rocked on the balls of her feet.

Danny was expecting him to burst out laughing, or hide a smile, or question why a twenty-year-old kid didn't know how to drive a fucking car. She was expecting to explain how none of her foster parents ever had the time, or how she never saw the need to learn because parking was a bitch in New York anyway.

But Tony said something she didn't expect. "Get in. I'll show you." He said it so simply, like it was nothing, that it caught her off-guard.

Danny's eyes widened. She shook her head. "Uh, sorry, no thanks. Your least expensive car is probably worth more than my life."

"I've got insurance," he waved off casually.

She stepped closer to him, holding out the car keys. "Take the keys back, Tony," Danny said, unsure. Was he going mental? He was definitely going mental.

"Sorry, I don't like being handed things."

"Tony –"

"Danny." Tony leaned against the roof of the sports car with his brow raised. "Just get in. Don't make me ask again."

He spent the next few minutes getting her familiarized with the controls, showing her how to check the mirrors properly. She tested the blinkers and ended up turning on the windshield wipers, earning a quiet "oh God" from Tony. Danny kept making snide comments about if he was "ready to die today, Tony, because this is the dumbest idea you've ever had."

When they finally lurched forward, she was visibly stiff in the driver's seat, and her knuckles went white with how deadly her grip was on the wheel. It took almost two minutes just to get out of the underground garage because Danny was going a whopping three miles an hour, mortified at the thought of scratching the vehicle.

"Jesus fuck, I thought we'd never see the sun again," he said in exasperation once they made it to the driveway.

"This was your idea!" Danny frowned, playing mock offense. The car crawled to the edge of the mansion's driveway, and she stopped just before the street, turning to face him. "I'm pretty sure it's against the law for me to drive without a license. And I doubt you trust me enough to actually drive this thing out where I can commit accidental manslaughter."

"Okay, fine. You didn't do horribly for your first time, even if you did drive like a grandma. Must have had a good teacher." He barked out a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked entirely proud of himself. "Put it in park and switch with me."

She had never really appreciated the view from Point Dume until today, the way the waters stretched out for miles. Tony liked driving with the windows down, Danny learned, especially on a sunny day with prime weather. He looked at ease. It was a wonder how not half an hour ago, he was fighting with his personal assistant about…

The thought was still nagging Danny when they arrived at a small Mom-and-Pop kind of diner, but it went away once the two of them stepped through the door. There was a waiter and an older lady at the counter serving coffee whose face lit up when she saw Tony walk in. It was obvious that he frequented the place, because she sat him at his "usual" booth and brought over a couple of menus.

The woman's aura was contagious. She flitted around the diner, taking care of the two other customers with such grace. Danny noticed the woman waving for the young waiter's attention behind the counter, signing for a refill on coffees. He signed back, You got it.

She couldn't help the smile on her face when they were finally asked for their order, and the woman – Gracie, she later learned – stayed for a bit to talk with them about their day. Danny and Tony sipped at their respective water and coffee as they waited for the food to come out, sitting in a comfortable silence. She eventually noticed the television hanging from the corner, recognizing the man in uniform on the screen. The rolling captions read: PILOT PARACHUTES TO SAFETY AFTER TRAINING MISHAP. $84 MILLION F-22 RAPTOR DESTROYED.

"That's your friend Rhodey, right?" Danny asked, pointing. She hadn't met him yet, not in person, because she had the tendency to not want to go out and socialize, and Colonel James Rhodes was a very busy man who didn't exactly prioritize meeting orphans that Tony took under his wing.

Tony turned around in his seat, attention going to the TV, and Danny's eyes zeroed in on the dried blood coming from behind his ear. How the hell did he manage to hurt himself now?

"An unfortunate training exercise involving an F-22 Raptor occurred yesterday. I am pleased to report that the pilot was not injured."

Tony faced forward again, shaking his head. He huffed a laugh through his nose. Danny heard him mutter, "'Not that simple,' my ass."

Rhodey looked down at his notes on the podium. "As for the unexpected turn of events on the ground in Gulmira, it is still unclear who or what intervened, but I can assure you that the United States government was not involved."

The bullet-holes, the injury, the jet, the fight with Pepper. It didn't take a genius to put all the pieces together. She narrowed her eyes narrowed at Tony, interest piqued. "Did you have something to do with that?" she asked him, voice raising an octave.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, feigning innocence. Gracie came back to set down their platters of eggs and bacon and pancakes, and Tony thanked her earnestly. He reached for the syrup and drowned the pancakes in it.

"I heard you fight with Pepper," Danny told him, watching as he sighed and set down the syrup bottle. "The suit looked wrecked, and in case you didn't know, you're bleeding, just there." She motioned to the spot of her head where it mirrored his.

He reached for it, wincing a bit when he hit a sensitive spot. Tony started, "Don't worry about me; I'm twice your age, kid, I can take care of myself."

Danny speared her scrambled eggs with a fork and shoveled it to her mouth, preventing her from letting a retort slip. If janky eating schedules, days of insomnia, and unfettered vigilantism is 'taking care' of yourself, we're all screwed. She didn't push the subject anymore.

The young waiter came by some time later to refill their drinks. Danny signed out, Thank you, followed by Gracie is wonderful.

Thank you, I'll tell her. His face had lit up, a smile splitting from ear to ear.

Looking up at him now, Danny noticed the strong resemblance between them two. Is she your mom?

Yes.

They exchanged a few more words before he excused himself, and Tony was all but gaping at her when she went to take a drink. "Since when did you know sign language?" he managed to get out.

She shrugged, hiding a smile. "Took it on in high school, but I think I learned the most when I was with my old boyfriend. He was deaf."

"High school? So, that was before…" Tony trailed off, but she knew what he was wanting to ask. Before the cancer, before The Workshop, before the monster. He cleared his throat, asking instead, "So, your boyfriend. What was he like?"

If anyone had told Danny that she would be talking about first-loves with Tony Stark at nine in the morning on a Wednesday, she would have laughed in their face.

"His name was Nyle."