Odd Things To Happen At Work #6

Odd Things To Happen At Work #6

So, working last night, and I got proposed to.  By a random stranger.  Again.

Just.  Why.

(Barely) Controlled Chaos # 19

Follows on from last part, so read that first.

Warnings for this part: violence, attempted mugging, weaponry, drunkeness

September 1997, Stark Industries Main office, New York

Tony pulled the girls against a wall, taking the hard surface against his own back while they writhed against his front, and grinned into their mouths.  Three hands grabbed against his stomach, sliding under his shirt, and another pulled at his hair.  He moaned at the sensation.

That was when the cold click of a gun being cocked ruined Tony’s night.

All three of them stopped moving instantly, the hands against his skin freezing in place, nails digging into his ribcage as the fingers formed an involuntary fist.  The barrel of the gun poked between the girl’s heads, pointed at Tony’s nose.  One of the brunettes squeaked in fear.  Tony wasn’t sure if he wished they would scream or not; it would draw attention from the two fucking huge bouncers just up the road, but it also might startle the guy on the other end of the gun, and Tony did not want that.  He liked his face the way it was, it didn’t need a hole between his eyes.

The man pushed one of the girls away from Tony, further into the alleyway, and she fell against the brick wall with a small cry.  Tony bit his lip as the gun pressed flush against his forehead, lifting his hands away from the other girl to show that he was unarmed.  The gun pressed harder against him, and he froze.

“Whoa, easy…”

“Shut up,” the gunman ordered, voice low in what was probably an attempt to not draw attention from the bouncers.  He used his free hand to pull the other girl towards him; she screamed, but he snapped the gun under her chin, and she muffled the noise quickly.  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed his free hand across her lips.  “Not a sound, bitch.”

She nodded, and the gun returned to its previous position.  Tony pressed closer against the wall, which was currently the only thing holding him upright.  Alcohol plus far too much adrenaline was making his knees shake, and also appeared to have gotten his fight-or-flight response stuck on ‘oh-shit-this-is-bad’.

Muffled whimpers from the two girls, and the tear tracks running down their faces told Tony that they were in the same position.  At least it wasn’t just him.

The gunman was talking again.  Tony tried to pay attention, uncrossing his eyes from their focus on the end of the gun and looking at the man beyond.  It was dark, and Tony was very drunk and scared, so he made out dark hair and pale skin, but that was about it.  Damnit.  He hated being fuzzy on details.  He forced his eyes to focus, and saw the man’s mouth moving.

Right, he was talking.  What was he saying?

“…money, now!”

Of course.  He was Howard fucking Stark’s son; everybody and their dog knew who he was, and they all knew he was a billionaire.  He really should have expected this.  Thinking about it, he was kind of surprised he hadn’t been mugged before.

“Now!”

Tony flinched, then winced as the movement knocked his skull against the wall.  He reached down to his jeans pocket, trying to remember which one his wallet was in, when the little light filtering into the alley from the main road suddenly cut off.  The gunman turned his attention in that direction, and the gun lowered an inch.  Tony sucked in a breath and shot his gaze sideways.  He couldn’t see properly – there was a gun blocking a lot of his view – but he thought he recognised the blurry shape as one of the bouncers from the nightclub.  He really hoped it was, and that this wasn’t some kind of backup for the mugger.

“Want to back up there?” the newcomer asked, tone light, and Tony knew that voice; it was the bouncer who’d wished him a good night.  His knees folded in relief, and he slid to the floor, the wall no longer adequate enough to keep him upright.  He was a little busy being relieved and staring at the floor to follow exactly what happened next, but a high-pitched scream caught his attention, and he looked up to see the bouncer supporting the girl that had been held hostage with one arm while holding the gunman against the wall with the other.  The gun was on the floor by Tony’s feet.  The girl to his right burst into noisy tears; Tony felt quite like joining her, but wasn’t quite drunk enough to give in to the impulse.

Another bouncer joined their rescuer, taking the gunman off his hands, and the first bouncer sat the girl he was holding on the floor next to Tony so he could call the police.  She curled against his side and cried into his shoulder, the other girl crawling up against his other side and burying her head in his lap, tears soaking into his jeans.  Tony sighed and let his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes as the adrenaline flushed from his system, leaving him exhausted.

(Barely) Controlled Chaos #8

Back again :)

Warnings for part 8: Tony being a stubborn ass.  So, Tony, really.  Does that count as a warning?

March 1991, Massachusetts Institute of Technology

After becoming the most famous orphan currently living in America, Tony threw himself into life at MIT.  He still skipped most of his classes, but he aced every test put in front of him, so the lecturers found it difficult to reprimand him.  Instead of class, he spent most of his time in the robotics lab, fiddling with Dummy’s claw until the bot could pick up an egg without cracking it.  Lillipup never left his side, and more often than not Rhodey could also be found in the lab, trying to talk Tony into leaving to eat or sleep.  Tony rarely listened, relying on coffee to keep him alert enough to function.  It took just over a week for Rhodey to have had enough.

Tony jumped and looked up as Rhodey brought his hand down hard on the table, startling him out of his work-trance.

“That’s enough, Tony!” he said, almost screaming.  Tony blinked and put down his tools slowly.  Rhodey only called him ‘Tony’ when he’d finally managed to exasperate him to the point where normal people stormed off.  Rhodey just yelled and pulled Tony after him.  “It’s almost two in the morning, and I want to sleep.  I also want you to sleep, because I’m pretty sure you haven’t left this room for three days, and this is not healthy!  You’re going to make yourself ill, Tones.”

Tony sighed.  “You can go sleep if you want to, Rhodey.  I’m not tired.”

“Bullshit,” Rhodey growled, grabbing the coffee cup out of Tony’s hand.  “When was the last time you had anything to eat?  Coffee doesn’t count.  You’re going to pass out, Tony, and I’m going to have to drag your ass back to bed.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Tony protested, trying to reach his coffee.  He was fine, and he was almost done.  He could sleep after he’d finished this.  Rhodey stalked across the room and poured the coffee down the sink in the corner.  “Hey!”

“I do have to, Tony,” he said, voice low and quiet.  “Because you are my friend, and when friends do stupid shit, you help them out.  You may be a genius, Tones, but you need me right now, and I am not going to stand here and watch you hurt yourself.”

Tony had no idea how to react to that.  The only person who’d ever reacted like that, even a little, was Jarvis, and the old butler was more inclined towards a gentle reprimand aimed at making Tony feel guilty than this.  Rhodey sighed and walked forwards, wrapping his fingers gently around Tony’s arm.

“Come on.  I’m taking you back to your room.”

Lillipup yipped his approval of this idea, and nudged Tony’s ankles to get him to move.  He wasn’t going to win this; Tony let himself be pulled from the room, Lillipup following at his heels.  Rhodey didn’t let go of his arm until Tony was back in his room in his dorm.  He shut the door behind him and bent to pick Lillipup up and put him on the bed.

“Sleep, Tony.”

Tony rolled his eyes and muttered “yes, mom,” but Rhodey was right, damn him - he was tired.  He didn’t bother getting changed out of his clothes – they were rumpled enough at this point that sleeping in them would have no effect whatsoever, and his sheets were grease-stained anyway – and collapsed backwards onto the bed.  Lillipup climbed onto his chest and curled up in a ball; as the dog usually slept on the pillow by his head, Tony took this as a ‘stay there’.  He glared at Rhodey.

“Now you’re ganging up on me.”

“You’re welcome,” Rhodey intoned, sitting next to him.  “Close your eyes.”

Tony rolled his eyes again, but did as he was bid.  Lillipup shifted on his chest, so he lifted one arm to curl around the puppy, and Lillipup licked his wrist.  He made a vague humming noise – he liked when the puppy did that – and ran his fingers through the fur of his neck, tangling them behind his ears and scratching lightly, getting a sleepy yip.  Rhodey chuckled and Tony felt the bed move as he stood up.

“Goodnight, Tony.”

Tony hummed a reply, and the door clicked shut.  He rolled his head to one side, felt Lillipup lick him again, and conceded that, ok; maybe it was nice having somebody looking out for him.

He fell asleep feeling happier than he had for a long time.

(Barely) Controlled Chaos # 13

A timely update!  The last one, probably, because I'm away this weekend, but I'll post again on Thursday possibly, then it's gonna be either Sunday or Monday.

Warnings for this part: other than swearing, none in particular

August 1997, Stark Industries Main Office, New York

“Mr Stark?”

Tony looked up at the voice.  He was half-heartedly glancing through the third fucking ream of paperwork his good-for-nothing secretary had dumped on his desk ten minutes before, just prior to screaming that nothing was worth putting up with his bullshit and quitting.  The woman knew how to make an exit, he’d give her that.  Pity she didn’t know anything about filing; the first two piles he’d looked at had been nothing to do with him; they were for Marketing and Accounts respectively.    Tony had no idea who’d hired her – he certainly hadn’t, and he was quite glad that she’d gone – but they’d done a shit job.  Hell, he hated paperwork with a passion that had once led Ditto to turn itself into a paper shredder, and he had managed to do a better job in the last few minutes; the woman was not getting any kind of recommendation from him.

Not that Tony thought she’d take one if he offered.  She had made her opinion of him quite clear before she stormed out of his office.  Well, him and Ditto.  Mostly Ditto.  The blob freaked her out, usually on purpose.  That was her problem so far as Tony was concerned, and one of the big reasons he was glad to see the back of her.

As he’d threatened when he was seventeen, the first thing he’d changed when he inherited Stark Industries three months ago was the ‘no Pokémon allowed’ rule.  Obie had not been happy, and neither had his neurotic secretary (whose name he had never bothered to learn – she had shrieked the first time she saw Ditto, so he had dubbed her ‘Screamer’ and ignored all her attempts to correct the nickname), but everyone else had loved the change, and the upswing in productivity – after a week or so of the novelty wearing off – had silenced any objections on Obie’s part.

So yes, Screamer was gone, and she had left him with a headache from staying up four nights in a row working on crap that he had very little interest in and the shrill pitch of her voice as she yelled at him, and a pile of paperwork that was taller than he was.  Even Herdier had been pissed at her, and that took some doing.  The dog put up with Tony and Ditto every day; annoying him to the point where he showed it visibly was a feat and a half.

So Tony was understandably thankful for the interruption/rescue from the ridiculous amount of paper on his desk.  He leaned sideways to see around the largest pile, and couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his lips as he saw the owner of the voice.  It was a woman of about his own age, certainly no older than his own twenty-one years, and she was very pretty.  Her hair was fire-red, swinging down her back to her waist, and framing her slim shape nicely.  She was an inch or so taller than him, if he had to guess from his seated position, mostly because her legs were about six miles long and revealed quite nicely from the knee down by a modest skirt that was far too long for his liking.  Also, there was a small grey Pokémon peering from behind her knees, which instantly gained her points.

Tony smiled at her, pushing his exhaustion back as he did so.  He needed to sleep soon, but he could fake his way through whatever she wanted before collapsing and dealing with this shit when he woke up.

“I am.  Who are you?”

“Virginia Potts, sir.  From Accounting.”

Tony made a mental note to look her up on the company files later – when he wasn’t close to passing out from lack of sleep, he was going to hit on her until she swooned.

She stepped fully inside the office and eyed the desk with distaste, the Pokémon at her side doing the same thing.  It had a white tail that was wrapped about its neck like a fur scarf – it was a very well-groomed, elegant looking thing, like the woman it was with.  Tony had no idea what it was, but he was going to find out; it was rare these days for him to see a Pokémon that he didn’t know the species of.  Walking forwards, she gingerly placed her own – small, thank god – pile of papers on the tiny clear space remaining on his desk.

“I wanted to talk to you about a problem I found with some of your numbers.”

That woke Tony up.  His appreciative leer turned into a scowl as he totally abandoned the prior paperwork (not that he’d been paying it much attention in the first place) to study the file in front of him.

“Impossible.  I don’t make mistakes with math.”

“Third page, fifteenth line from the top,” she reeled off.  Tony frowned at the pages as he flipped through and found the so-called ‘error’.  He read the line, blinked, then read it again.  And then a third time.  He sighed loudly.

“Fuck.”

“Told you,” Potts said, not sounding as smug as he would have thought – not many people corrected Tony Stark, it was usually the other way around – and he looked up to find her elbow-deep in the papers on his desk, her Pokémon sitting by her side passing her piles and taking ones she filtered out from the much larger selection to her left.  He cleared his throat, wondering what she was doing.

“I’m pretty sure at least some of those are private.”

Not that he cared, but the statement made her blush, and yep, he was right, she looked good like that.

“Sorry sir,” she said, sounding embarrassed.  “I shouldn’t have touched it.”

“I don’t actually care,” he said, waving one hand carelessly and taking a pen from Herdier with the other to correct his error.  “Screamer dumped it all on here and left; I don’t know what most of it is.”

Potts smiled, a tiny quirk of lips on one side.  “Most of it isn’t for you.”

THIS is amazing

Best thing I’ve ever seen.

omfg funniest thing i have watched in a long time,love it

everytime i see this - REBLOGGED LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER.

OMG THE DRAG QUEENS LAWL

THE END O.M.G LOL

SPREAD THIS LIKE HERPES CHILDREN.

Merry Christmas!

To everyone who celebrates it anyway.  To those who don't, happy whatever-you-do celebrate.