Many thanks to Aublanc, my beta for this story.
Title: The Unexpected Guest.
Prompt: Your protagonist opens the door and finds an unexpected guest–a friend from high school who hasn't been heard from in many years. As your protagonist and friend sit in the kitchen, the friend reminisces about the old days…and stirs up trouble by recalling some unhappy teen moments, too.
(Well, that's the prompt I was given.)
Warnings: Some violence.
Malibu was good. Like, obscenely good. Having the freedom to stretch out on the couch or stay up all night to work on pet projects was heaven and that didn't even touch on all the alone time he was spending with Pepper. Even better, he didn't have to keep looking over his shoulder wondering when the team was going to try their luck with another piss poor prank since they were all either at some super-secret SHIELD conference in LA or back at the Tower.
(Okay, so he'd actually looked pretty hot, but they could have at least left his beard alone. He probably could have pulled off the bearded lady look no sweat.)
So, while Pepper was at work, Tony did what any self-respecting billionaire playboy philanthropist in a committed relationship would do and went on another engineering binge before crashing on the couch half-naked and covered in grease. He vaguely remembered silencing JARVIS right before passing out to avoid all those pesky alarms and phone calls. He probably wouldn't have woken up for them in the first place, but he hadn't seen any point in risking it.
Now that he was waking up to a handgun in his face and a ridiculous headache, he was kind of regretting the whole thing. And then he realized who was at the other end of the gun and really regretted it.
"Tony, Tony, Tony. We've got to stop meeting like this."
Tony forced a bright smile onto his face, hands already shifting into a placating position.
"Obie, buddy, how ya been? It's been ages."
He was even broader than Tony remembered, prison muscle thickening his build until he could have matched Thor in girth. These days he wore his hair shaved close and his beard was more ragged than Tony had ever seen it. The ill-fitting standard issue uniform of a convict didn't do him any favors either. But the shadow of cold, calculated rage in his eyes was all too familiar.
"Three years, seven months, and 16 days. But who's counting?"
Tony swallowed and laughed nervously, eyes darting surreptitiously around the room for his tracking bracelets, a big fat emergency button, or anything else that could help him get out of this mess. He found it in a small script flashing in black and white on the holographic display just behind Stane's head.
Protocol 32A initiated. EM 21 suggested.
And then he could breathe again; thank G-d he'd only muted JARVIS. Now all he had to do was hang tough until the cavalry arrived. No pressure.
"I, uh, wasn't expecting you. What brings you to the neighborhood?"
The larger man smirked and indicated… well, everything with his free hand.
"Oh, the usual. A mutual acquaintance of ours decided it was time to take a trip "outside" and I tagged along. I've heard you've been doing pretty well for yourself, Tony. Seems you got rid of that hunk-of-junk butler of yours, too. I never imagined you'd still be so stupid after all this time, but "gift horses," eh Tony?"
Tony gritted his teeth and forced himself to sound as unaffected as before.
"Yeah. Guess some things never change. But what are you really here for, Stane? We both know you're not just dropping in on an old friend."
Stane shrugged, still keeping the enormous handgun trained on Tony's upper torso.
"Like I said. I heard the golden goose laid a few more eggs while I was away. I'm here to collect. And nothing personal Tony, but we both know you can be one paranoid little bastard when it comes to your projects. So this is me, asking nicely. Pay up or pay the piper."
Tony grinned.
"Sorry, Chain Gang; that's just not gonna happen."
Stane's cutting smile widened into what Tony could only call a leer.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
Stane swung the gun up and for the next few seconds Tony was only distantly aware of anything but the overwhelming sensation of breathtaking, mind-numbing, ever-spreading pain. The room finally came back into focus and he pressed his shaking left hand against the dampening patch on the opposite side of his chest, carefully not looking down because this was getting too close to Afghanistan for comfort. He managed a shaky grin in Stane's direction all the same.
"N-nice try, but the answer's st-still no."
Then Stane started ranting again only at this point Tony really couldn't care less and the text on the holographic windows was flashing red now, so maybe he should actually try to read the thing. After a few seconds of trying to piece the letters together, Tony blinked and grimaced.
Extraction imminent. EM 1 advised.
Well. This was gonna suck. Stane was still pacing and waving that gun around, so while his back was turned Tony did the only thing he could do: suck in a breath and throw himself off the couch and onto the floor, instinctively curling into a ball. Despite his precautions, the landing jarred his injured shoulder and his vision went white.
By the time the white retreated to the edges of his vision and the rest of the world came back into focus, it was all over but the shouting. Widow and Hawkeye had Stane under control and Spangles was crouched next to him with a distinctly worried cast to his face. Tony promptly decided they had everything under control…and then he passed out.