Little Bird's Vengeance Chapter 9 Sick Day
"I've seen military reports with less technical detail."
Steve kept reading the report Red Robin was writing over his shoulder. "I dare say you have," the kid replied. "This is how I write my files." He reached out and rummaged through his forensics kit, pulling out a sample bag and checking the label before returning to his notebook. "Mind not reading over my shoulder? It's distracting."
"He's not a fan things being distracting," Tony said from across the room, lounging on a couch. "He keeps going on about it. He should lighten up. There's lots of fun stuff in the lab."
"I can't do your "fun stuff" until I'm done. The more you keep bothering me about it, the longer it will take."
Steve looked over at a bored looking Clint. "They've been going on about it for nearly an hour," Clint explained.
"Maybe Tony should stop interrupting," Steve suggested.
Red Robin snorted. "Yup, that'd be nice," he muttered.
"I saw Tasha coming out of the gym looking furious," Steve remarked. "Had an argument?"
"Not exactly," Clint replied evasively. Red Robin let out a half-snort, half-chuckle. Steve looked at him questioningly.
"I think I managed to irritate her somewhat," the teen explained.
"Do you ever sleep?" Clint asked.
"Yes. Very lightly. Do you mind if I get this finished?"
Steve and Clint locked gazes across the room. Steve would have to get the full story later.
"You know, if you don't feel like discussing propulsion systems, we could always-"
Steve would never find out what else Tony could think of doing, because Red Robin cut him off by throwing down his notebook, rising, and stalking out of the room. "Back in a few minutes," he called over his shoulder.
"Hey, where are you going?" Clint said, hopping up and following the teen.
"Kitchen."
They went out of earshot, and Steve looked across at Tony. "What have you been saying to him?"
"I just want him to have fun, that's all," the billionaire playboy pouted.
"I don't think he wants your 'fun'. I think he wants to work," Steve replied, before curiosity overtook him and he scooped up the abandoned notebook. He flicked back a few pages, and skimmed through the report. "Uh Tony? Seems he's been dealing with a murderer who ripped their victims' faces off."
He quickly skim-read through the report, from victim analysis to comparisons to another killer, known as Jane Doe, with apparently the same modus operandi, and the possibility she'd changed location. He shuddered at the thought of the kid having to deal with this sort of gruesome murder at all, let alone multiple times.
"C'mon, seriously?" Tony said. "That's just. That's just nasty. Who'd want to deal with that?"
"Someone who cares more about the fate of other people than their own sensibilities."
Steve twisted around to see Tasha had entered. She looked calmer after her intensive workout, and was carrying a water bottle. She slinked over and sat down.
"What do you mean?" Steve asked, hoping to gain an insight into whatever she'd deduced from their visitor.
"He's gentle. He doesn't like hurting people, for all his ability and defensiveness. You can see it in the way he moves," she explained. "But he's determined. Whatever he sets his mind to, he'll try his best. It's a formidable combination."
Before she could say anything more, Red and Clint returned. Red was carrying a mug of something hot and smelling of lemons, and Clint seemed to be trying to persuade him to rest.
"I really have to finish that report," Red grumbled. He sat down and stared at Steve. He seemed more weary and petulant than angry, but Steve gave him back the notebook anyway. The teen picked up the pen and continued writing.
Steve didn't try to engage him in conversation, anticipating his reluctance. Instead, he kept Tony occupied with a humorous anecdote about Howard Stark and a group of army secretaries. Tony soon lost interest in bothering Red, instead regaling them with stories of his own conquests. That is, until Tasha butted in with the story of how Tony had coerced her into a boxing ring and got a firm butt-kicking.
The kid was apparently ignoring them, but his lips kept quirking in an amused half-smile.
After another half-hour or so, he put down the pen, closed the notebook and put it back into his belt. "Are you going to rest now?" Clint asked pointedly.
Red didn't reply, glowering at him. Clint rolled his eyes.
"You're sick. You need rest."
The teen huffed a sigh. "Fine." He drained his cup and stood. He and Clint left the room, and Steve looked over at Tasha inquisitively.
"He's got a cold, that's all," she explained, shrugging. "That's why he came, he needed somewhere to stay. And why Director Fury's not pressing the matter of him staying here for now."
"Wait, what?" Tony butted in.
Tasha rolled her eyes. "Fury told us to take Red back into custody. He resisted, and offered the alternative of staying here under supervision, and volunteered to speak to Fury if he came here."
"And Fury agreed to that?" Steve asked. It didn't sound very much like the Director.
"No, he just told us to keep an eye on him until he's better, and then bring him back to the helicarrier," Clint answered, returning. He sat down next to Tasha. "Jarvis, can you give us video feed from Red Robin's room?"
"One moment, sir," Jarvis said. After a slight pause, presumably while he asked the kid's permission, a screen flickered into life.
"-if they want," Red was saying, dropping his belt onto the chair by the bed, where he'd already put his wing harness, the arm-belts and gloves. He sat on the bed and started pulling his boots off. "And then please keep quiet unless it's something important?"
"Of course, sir," Jarvis said in the other room. The kid scooped up an aerosol can and metal shard from the bedside table, before curling up on the bed, his breathing soon evening out.
"He must be tired," Steve said, looking with pity at the world-lost hero.
"What do you think of him?" Tasha asked.
Steve pursed his lips. "In some ways, he reminds me of the refugees from the Nazi regime. He's alone, he's lost his home, his future is uncertain. But at the same time, he refuses to be helpless, refuses to give in. He's certainly capable. I'd be proud to have him by my side in a fight."
"He's capable of keeping up, that's for sure," Clint shrugged. "We wouldn't have to babysit him in a fight."
"What about you, Tony?" Tasha asked.
Tony was staring longingly at the sleeping boy on the screen- no, not at Red, at the small pile of tech next to the bed. Then he turned around and grinned.
"Can we keep him?"
AN: And...more interaction time. Cute, no? Please leave a review, tell me what you thought, what you hope comes up, how I can improve if that's what's bothering you. If you have any questions, feel free to ask, review or PM. Nine chapters in, I guess you know the drill.
Other than that, not much. If you're bored, check out my other stuff. In particular, there's trouble for Tim in this week's update of Wayne's Boys: Family Ties.
Next update next week. See ya.
Katara