A Dash Of Sarcasm, A Sprinkle Of Caos

Chapter Three

Sarcasm Meets Opportunity

Stiles wasn't sure how he ended up sitting across from Tony Stark, but he was pretty certain this wasn't how most people spent their Wednesday afternoons. The billionaire had waved over a fresh cup of coffee for both of them, a gesture that Stiles couldn't decide was gracious or patronizing. Either way, he wasn't about to turn down free caffeine.

Tony was staring at him again, his expression the kind of curious that made Stiles feel like a particularly fascinating lab rat. He hated that. It reminded him too much of the pack after the Nogitsune, the way they'd watched him out of the corners of their eyes like he might snap at any second.

"So," Tony began, his voice casual, "what brings you to the big city? Something tells me it's not the overpriced coffee."

Stiles snorted into his cup. "Yeah, no. Definitely not that. I'm here for school. College, you know? Education, the great equalizer or whatever."

Tony's eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a glimmer of amusement in them. "You don't sound thrilled about it."

"I mean, I'm not not thrilled," Stiles hedged, taking a sip of his coffee. "It's just… a lot. Adjusting to a new city, classes, life in general." He trailed off, realizing he was rambling. "Anyway, what about you? Don't you have… billionaire stuff to do? Robots to build? World peace to engineer?"

Tony smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, I do plenty of that. But sometimes I like to take a break and see what the common folk are up to."

"Right," Stiles said, rolling his eyes. "Because you're so relatable."

"Hey, I'm more relatable than you think." Tony tilted his head, studying Stiles again. "For example, I can tell when someone's trying to dodge a question. So, what's the real reason you're here?"

Stiles stiffened, his grip tightening on his cup. "I told you. College. That's it."

Tony didn't look convinced. He tapped his fingers against the table, his gaze unwavering. "You're a bad liar, kid. Let me guess—you've got baggage. Everyone in this city does. And you… you've got that look."

"What look?" Stiles asked, his voice sharp.

Tony leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "The 'I've seen some things and now I sleep with one eye open' look. Believe me, I know it when I see it."

Stiles stared at him, his heart pounding in his chest. Tony's tone was light, almost flippant, but his words hit too close to home. He felt exposed, like Tony had peeled back a layer of armor without even trying.

"Maybe you're projecting," Stiles said, forcing a smirk to hide his discomfort. "I mean, you've got to have some baggage, right? You don't get to be you without a few skeletons in the closet."

Tony chuckled, nodding in acknowledgment. "Fair point. But we're not talking about me right now, are we?"

"Couldn't we, though?" Stiles shot back. "You're way more interesting. Billionaire. Superhero. Possibly the only guy who can pull off sunglasses indoors without looking like a complete douche."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Tony said, though he looked pleased. "But nice try."

Stiles shrugged, trying to play it cool even as his brain screamed at him to stop talking. This was Tony Stark, for crying out loud. Why was he even bothering with Stiles? What could he possibly want?

The silence stretched for a moment, and Stiles found himself fidgeting under Tony's gaze. He hated how easily this guy could unsettle him. It was like Tony could see straight through him, past the sarcasm and bravado to the mess underneath.

Finally, Tony leaned back again, crossing his arms. "Alright, I'll bite. What's your deal, Stiles? You're obviously smart—too smart to be coasting through life like this. So, what's holding you back?"

Stiles felt a flash of irritation. Who did this guy think he was, waltzing in and acting like he had all the answers? Like he could just figure Stiles out with a few well-placed questions?

"I don't know what you're talking about," Stiles said, his voice tight. "I'm doing fine. Totally fine."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, sure. And I'm just a guy who likes to tinker with gadgets in his spare time."

"Glad we're on the same page," Stiles said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Tony sighed, shaking his head. "Look, I'm not trying to pry. Okay, maybe I am. But only because I see potential here."

"Potential for what?" Stiles asked, genuinely confused.

"For… something," Tony said vaguely, gesturing with his hands. "I don't know yet. But you've got that spark, kid. That thing that makes people stand up and take notice. You're rough around the edges, sure, but that's not a bad thing."

Stiles blinked, completely thrown off balance. Was Tony Stark—Iron Man—complimenting him? Was this some kind of elaborate joke?

"I don't even know what to say to that," Stiles admitted.

"Say yes," Tony said, his grin returning. "I'm not offering you a job. Yet. But I am saying you should stick around. Maybe let me see what you're capable of."

"And if I say no?" Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tony shrugged. "Then I go back to my billionaire stuff, and you go back to… whatever it is you're doing. No hard feelings. But let's be honest—you're curious."

Stiles hated that he was right. He was curious. Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of interest, a tiny ember of hope that maybe—just maybe—this wasn't some elaborate trick.

"Fine," he said finally. "I'll think about it."

"Good," Tony said, standing up and adjusting his jacket. "Don't take too long, though. I'm not exactly known for my patience."

With that, he tossed a few bills onto the table—enough to cover both their coffees and then some—and headed for the door. Stiles watched him go, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened.

"Seriously," he muttered to himself. "What the hell just happened?"

The Nogitsune's voice whispered in his mind, low and amused. He sees you, little spark. More than you think.

Stiles shivered, the words settling into his bones like a warning. Or a promise.

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