Entry #13: Stark Tower [or, "Got Coffee?"]

At precisely 1:45 in the morning, Tony Stark had finished inspecting his upgraded laboratory (newly de-M&M'd) and was satisfied that all was still in working order. When he left, he headed straight for his humongous kitchen… only to find that Pepper had removed any and all delectable treats from the refrigerator and the multiple pantries.

"Jarvis," warned Tony. "I trust you had nothing to do with this?"

"Sir, you were quite busy in your laboratory, and I tried to tell you."

"You should have tried harder!" Tony wailed, throwing open all of the cupboards and then looking under the sink. He even crawled beneath the table—goodness knows what he thought he would find under there.

"You threatened to reprogram me, Sir."

With a bestial growl, Tony wriggled out from under the table and began to scour the pantries for the second time. "WHERE IS THE FOOD?"

Jarvis's artificial voice sounded slightly amused. If an AI system could be amused. "In the kitchen, Sir."

"No, no, no, no, NO! I mean food, not bran muffins and vegetables!" explained the billionaire, emerging swiftly from one pantry and disappearing into the other with equal rapidity. "And what has she DONE with my liquor supply!?"

At that moment, right on cue, a very different voice spoke up from the doorway. "Would this make you feel any better?"

Tony poked his head around the corner of the pantry to see Pepper Potts standing in front of the table, holding… was that a chocolate pie of some sort?"

He quickly did the math: Chocolate + Pie = Spectacular.

Slightly suspicious nonetheless, Tony sauntered over to the table, clearing his throat and trying to regain some of his dignity. After all, some trepidation was allowed, right? This was the woman who had very recently stripped him of the sugar, caffeine, and alcohol he needed to operate on a daily basis….

Pepper held up the pie with a winning smile.

Tony stopped several feet away and stared at it, still in shock from his most recent crisis. "I hope that's actually a pie, and not really a salad in disguise," he mumbled.

"Chocolate Mousse Tart," Pepper corrected, handing the entire platter to Tony. "Your favorite!"

He squinted at it, and then sniffed it. It really did smell like chocolate, he discovered, and upon dipping a finger into the mousse and sticking it in his mouth, he also discovered that it tasted just as good as it smelled.

Temporarily forgetting the reason of his distress, Tony grabbed a fork, sank down into a chair, and started eating right out of the pie plate. "Aaahh… caffeine," he mumbled blissfully.

"No caffeine," Pepper corrected, "but wouldn't you agree that it tastes just fine without it?"

Tony looked up, another sliver of distrust darkening his eyes, and said around a mouthful of chocolate mousse, "Then what'sh in thish?"

"Mashed avocados, macadamia nuts, soaked dates, agave nectar, carob powder, shredded coconut, and a pinch of sea salt for extra flavoring," Pepper announced proudly.

Tony's eyes suddenly became as large as twin baseballs, and he choked, putting a hand over his arc reactor and slumping over the table. "Hurrckk! Gahhhgh!" He then launched into a melodramatic display of coughing.

Pepper patted him gently on the back.

Tony grimaced, stumbling to his feet and lurching toward the door. "You're determined to kill me, aren't you?" he gasped.

"You promised me last month that you were going to go on a diet."

"I was! I am! Just not right now!"

"When?" Pepper gave him her infamous 'Do-I-Know-You-Or-Do-I-Know-You' look and put her hands on her hips.

Tony spluttered for a moment, and then stalked out of the room, mumbling something inarticulate. This was too much to bear. He couldn't even get a just-after-midnight snack in his own tower without being assaulted by revolting and completely inedible things like avocado pies and exotic fruit salads.

That was it. He needed a break. From his job. From his daily interviews. From the well-intentioned but very unwelcome efforts on Pepper's behalf to improve his diet. He was, as of now, on a self-appointed leave of absence.

Now, where would he go on this much-needed vacation?

Tahiti might be a little extreme.

Hmmm...

Several hours later, Tony speed-dialed the home phone of one Agent Clint Barton. There was an agonizingly long pause. And then the answering machine kicked in. To Tony's surprise, it was not Clint's recorded voice that greeted him:

"—is this… hello? What—oh, yes, I see now. I suppose the green light means it is working. Ahem. You have reached the home of one underachieving mortal with a bad haircut who happens to be under my protection for the time being. He is unable to take your completely unnecessary and unimportant call, as he is likely too busy trying to impress one Natasha Romanoff. Please don't leave a message, because everyone knows that these twenty-first century Midgardian answering machines are completely unreliable. When has he ever called you back anyway? I thought not. But I had better cease talking, because I see the seconds remaining to record this call happen to be in the single digits now. Ah, well. I assume the beep will sound shortly—"

"Loki? …LOKI! Loki, get away from there! What are you doing?! No, give me that! Get back here! Where do you think you're going with MY PHONE?!"

"—so I shall leave you with that thought. Fare well. Or poorly, I really don't care which."

There was a beep, and Stark irritably barked into the phone, "Clint, are you there? This is an emergency! I've been robbed blind. I need caffeine or my brain will implode. I'm pulling out in less than two minutes and if you aren't home, I'm breaking into your house, and then your refridge—"

"Um, yes? Hello? This is—Loki, no! Don't touch that!—Clint Barton. Is this—"

"Yes to whatever that last question was. You got any coffee?"

There was momentary silence on the other end of the line, and then Clint's slightly bemused voice. "What?"

"I said do you have any coffee?"

"Errr... yes, I think—"

"Is it decaf?"

"No, but—"

"How about M&Ms?"

"I guess I probably do. Why—"

"Tequila?"

"No, no Tequ—"

"Never mind. Forget the tequila. I'm coming over."

"YOU'RE WHAT?!"

"I'm coming over. I'm on vacation. I need some coffee. And I don't want to go to Tahiti. See you in an hour."

"Stark!" Clint yelled. "Are you mad? Are you crazy? Are you completely out of your mind? Did I not tell you last night that my house was infiltrated by Loki?! I'm running a home for demented demigods! I can't handle a narcissistic millionaire—"

"MULTI-millionaire."

"Whatever. You aren't. Coming. Over. And that's final!"

"Okay. See you in an hour," Tony reiterated, flipping the phone shut just as Clint started yelling again. At least, he thought with his trademark smirk, this would take his mind off his own problems, if nothing else.

Review for more! ;)

~Alassiel