Look at that, I am updating on the three week mark as intended! I don't think I have ever done that before... (or will again, quite possibly...)

I am not marvel, and as ever all the thanks to my fantastically scary beta, Nova!

TapTap

Claire was painting the walls of the Green Room in a naturesque moss sort of colour when Jarvis announced she had a visitor. Bruce had long felt that the walls felt cool like they were, and after a lot of consideraton she had decided to brave Tony's terrible sense of humour and pick the warmest shade of green she could find. It was soothing and it looked considerably warmer. And maybe, just maybe, she was enough like Tony to actually like the thought that the Green Room was green. She was frankly surprised that it hadn't had green walls already, anyway. There was far too many people with silly senses of humour in this one tower.

Only halfway through, she put the paintbrush down and pulled her sweaty hair back from her eyes. The resident billionaire had suggested craftsmen, but she liked painting. Even though it was exhausting. "Let them in, J," she told the AI, without asking who it was. In hindsight, she would consider if this might have been a mistake. And many years later, with a steady arm around her shoulders and a toddler on her hip; she would think no such thing.

He ducked his head unnecessarily as he entered the room. It was a big space, obviously, and not mostly empty as he had expected it to be. It contained a lot of well-designed toys, similar to enourmous cat toys he supposed, though they had all been pushed neatly into the middle of the room for the ongoing redecoration. He suspected by Captain Rogers and possibly Sergeant Barnes. For that matter, Ironman and the Hulk himself could very well have helped, but he assumed it hadn't been in the least bit necessary. He was right.

Stepping through the doorway and shaking his first impression, he turned his eyes to the only other person in the room. She had been burnt into his head in that Ironlady dress; witty, beautiful and with that fascinating unique trait of personality. She didn't require protection - not did she seem to require to rebel against it. It was just one of the things that had made him come back for more less than a week later.

This time, she was wearing a surprised look (he didn't blame her for not expecting him to come through that door) matched with a disintegrating ponytail and worn jeans. Tony couldn't have been able to lay his hands on them, because no way that they were labeled.

He liked that about her, come to think about it. She was secure enough not only to wear Prada or Chanel like she'd been born in them, but to forgo them too, when the day's task called for it. It was a sort of independence, generally, that made her such an enigma, he concluded silently as he forced himself to move; to act charming and social. He could have just stood there smiling at her for minutes, and he didn't even feel creepy.

Tony stopped dead in the door to his garage/secondary workshop. Bruce Wayne was leaning against his daughter's outrageous Isetta, laughing in an outright smittened way. Claire had the hood of the car open and was apparently explaining something.

"You know, he builds motorcycles. All excuses. I'm disappointed, Wayne - that seduction technique is what, fifty years old?" He stepped into the large hall frowning.

Claire laughed. "He told me! It might be the genius I suppose, but it seems he isn't really that dumb. He did profess an interest in the inner workings of the Isetta though... and I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, as I figured he was about as likely as you are to get one for himself."

Rather impressively, Bruce Wayne was not blushing at this blatant dissection of his motives right in front of him. His body language was even mostly casual and unbothered still. Tony knew enough to be able to see right through the usual tricks, but though his rival (according to the media, anyway) was clearly embarrassed below the good habits and posture, he was genuinely not uncomfortable.

"I prefer to see it as respect... and I really haven't seen one of these up close like this before. I'll grant you, though," he shrugged his shoulders in Tony's direction, "I'd probably find some interest in whatever she wanted to talk about. As long as she's comfortable with me hanging about, of course."

"She seems plenty comfortable." Tony turned his head quickly at the voice, for the first time noticing Steve hanging out on the sofa, preoccupied with braiding Bucky's hair in a complicated style and watching nothing else. He didn't need to, as his boyfriend was staring at the pair by the car with narrowed eyes. Captain America clearly knew that, as he continued with amusement. "She was even good with us being all the way over here, so..."

Bruce Wayne didn't seem to know what to make of this, and it was clear it wasn't the first time it had been alluded to when he spoke. "You know I'd just leave if she asked me to. I know I'm the business rival and everything but she doesn't need a security escort."

"That's not why." Claire had been preoccupied with her screwdriver, and now reached for a monkey wrench. "I'm not comfortable with any guys I don't know super well. You'll have to get used to the protection detail, or just... well go away I suppose." She shrugged.

Tony noted his fellow billionaire's face very carefully as he registered this. He looked worried, even concerned, but not insulted. That was a good sign. He decided to refrain from bodily tossing him out of his building. Temporarily.