(Barely) Controlled Chaos # 19

(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.

『25 Lives』 by Tongari (ಌ)

This is beautiful

(Barely) Controlled Chaos #7

Now we're getting somewhere... angst ahead.

Warnings for part 7:  Alcohol, drunkeness, character death

February 1991, Massachusetts Institute of Technology

Tony had been at MIT for four months before he was invited to one of the infamous college parties he’d heard so much about.  It was Rhodey who invited him, and it was Rhodey who held him up at the end of the night after he’d had too much to drink and couldn’t make his legs move the way he wanted them to.  Sure, he was underage, but so was everyone else, and he’d wanted to see just what his parents found in the bottom of the bottle.  It turned out that he enjoyed the buzz, and he’d drunk more than he thought, leading to his first (and still only, really) friend half-carrying him back to his dorm and propping him against the wall while he opened the door.  Lillipup was sat on the end of Tony’s bed, a disapproving glare levelled towards both boys, but Tony had merely patted him happily on top of the head (the nurse he’d finally taken the puppy to had confirmed that he was male as she gave Tony some antibiotics for the too-skinny Pokémon) and collapsed face-down into his pillow.  He woke the next morning to a disgruntled dog, and when bacon rashers weren’t enough to buy his way back into Lillipup’s good books, he asked the Pokémon if he wanted to go to the lab with him.  Technically, untrained Pokémon weren’t meant to be in the robotics lab (neither were untrained people), but as most of the grad students thought Tony could do no wrong, at least so far as engineering and computer programming went, he figured he’d get away with it.  Also, Lillipup was very cute; that could only help.

So, Tony and Lillipup both skipped Tony’s classes (again) and headed for the robotics lab, where the bright lights made his head hurt until one of the older students took pity on him and gave him a list of hangover cures and a glass of water.  Tony thanked her sincerely, grateful when his headache eased.

When police appeared in the lab three hours later, everyone assumed they were there about the party.  They asked to speak to Tony in private, which only cemented the belief.

They weren’t there about the party.

***

Three days later, Tony was stood in a cemetery, watching as dirt covered his parents’ coffins.  His long coat, intended as protection from the February chills, lay open against his chest, flapping in the light breeze.  Lillipup sat silent at his feet, resting his head against Tony’s ankle in support.  Everyone else had left half an hour ago, but Tony couldn’t move; he hadn’t cried at all over their deaths, hadn’t really felt anything except numb.  There was no love lost between him and his father, and his mother was less maternal than he would have liked, but they were his parents, surely he should feel something?  Something other than the blankness that he had been walking around in since the police had taken him to one side and told him that his parents had been killed in a drink-driving incident.  They omitted the fact that Howard had been the one driving drunk, but Tony had guessed that much anyway.

There wasn’t much to say after that.  Obadiah Stane – his father’s best friend and now Tony’s guardian – had cried as he gave a speech to the assembled gawkers (some, Tony was sure, where only there to see for themselves that Howard really was dead; his father had made a lot of enemies in the business world).  Jarvis had stood by Tony’s side through the whole thing, one hand on the young man’s shoulder, squeezing every now and then in a motion meant to reassure, though which of them the gesture was aimed at Tony wasn’t sure.  Tony himself hadn’t said anything; he’d barely blinked as the coffins were lowered into the ground and people began to leave, throwing sympathetic glances his direction.  Obie had offered to take Tony home, but Jarvis had said that he’d see to the young Stark’s health, and when Tony had shown no preference either way Obie had given in.

Tony spent two more days at the Stark mansion before returning to MIT.  He kept Jarvis in his employ, more because he couldn’t bear to let the man go than because he wanted to keep the house tidy – he couldn’t care less what state his parents’ home was in.  Jarvis was family, even if he was paid to stay that way.

The following year, Jarvis was diagnosed with cancer and died barely a month later.  Tony spent three hours sobbing into Lillipup’s fur.

(Barely) Controlled Chaos # 20

Follows last part.

Warnings for this part: drunken ramblings, drunkeness

September 1997, Stark Industries Main office, New York

An hour later, after convincing the paramedics to take the girls to the hospital while leaving him behind, he managed to find the bouncer who’d rescued them and caught his attention.  The man smiled as Tony beckoned him over to talk.

“Mr Stark.  You alright?  I can call the ambulance back if you want?”

Tony scoffed and waved his hand in a motion that was meant to be dismissive, but almost swatted the bouncer on the nose.  He pulled away sheepishly.  “Sorry.  And thank you, you know, for saving me.  Us.  The girls.  They needed saving.  Thank you.”

The bouncer shook his head, amused.  “No problem, Mr Stark.  Just doing my job.”

A light went on in Tony’s head.

“Yes!  You were!  I mean, will be.  If you want to?  I want you to, you’d be great, and I like you, you’re so happy all the time.  So, I want you to.  Do you want you to?”

The bouncer – who Tony was officially calling Happy and screw his actual name – gave Tony a very confused look.  “I’m sorry?”

“Job.  If you want?” Tony clarified.  Happy’s expression didn’t change.

“Are you offering me a job?”

“Yes!  See, you could work for me, doing… this, and I pay well, ask Pepper, she bought new shoes last week, she’s been wearing them around the office for the last three days and they’re making her feet hurt, but she won’t take them off because they were expensive and she wants to get her money’s worth…  I ramble when I’m drunk, but I want you to take the job, because I like you and you’re so happy.  Will you do it?”

Happy raised one eyebrow at Tony, not looking convinced, so Tony rummaged around in his pockets until he found a business card.  He handed it to Happy, being careful not to thrust it too hard and accidentally punch the man, and Happy took it.

“Look, think about it and call me; my number’s on there and my phone’s always on.  Even in meetings; it drives Pepper nuts.  So, yeah.  Call me.”

That was when Rhodey managed to talk his way through the policemen guarding Tony and took the younger man in a hug.  He was walking in a very straight line, which meant that he was sober again and Tony was going to be in so much trouble with Pepper.

“Tony!  Never scare me like that again.”

“Honeybear!” Tony cried, cuddling close and pressing a kiss to Rhodey’s forehead.  “Happy is going to call me when he wants to be my bodyguard.  I like him.”

Rhodey sighed.  “I’m sure you do, Tones.”  He looked over Tony’s head at Happy, who was once again amused.  “Thank you for looking after him.”

“No problem,” Happy said again, smiling, and nodded at Tony, now clinging to Rhodey’s waist.  “You should take him home.”

“Yeah, we’re going.  Thank you again.”

“Call me!” Tony called as Rhodey pulled him away.  Happy waved at him, and Tony grinned and sagged some more against Rhodey.  “I like him.”

“I know,” Rhodey said tolerantly.

***

The next day, Tony got a phone call asking if the job was still available.  Well, Happy asked if he remembered making the offer, but it amounted to the same thing.

The new addition to the Stark household was the only thing that stopped Pepper murdering him when she found out what had happened.  Nothing could stop Herdier’s Disappointed Look.

(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.”

(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.