Odd Things To Happen At Work #8

Odd Things To Happen At Work #8

So, I may have accidentally kinda formed a book-swap club at work.  Involving staff and regular customers.  I'd feel bad if it wasn't so awesome.

(Barely) Controlled Chaos #24

As warned, short post.  Hope you like it anyway

Warnings: none

February 2001, Clifftop House, Malibu

Six weeks later – and two new patents because Tony had needed to invent a hard drive awesome enough to store his AI – it was ready.  Tony booted it up, sitting nervously in in workshop as he waited for it to finish installing.  Had he gotten the voice right?  If he’d messed it up… he hoped he hadn’t messed it up.

Herdier nosed Tony’s clenched fist.  He hadn’t realised he’d tensed it, and relaxed, tickling the dog’s ears.  Dummy nudged him from behind, almost unseating Ditto from his shoulder, and Tony huffed a small laugh and used his other hand to scratch the ticklish joint, making the bot squeak and recoil.

The speakers built into the ceiling buzzed, then coughed.  A male voice rang through them.

“Systems downloaded and fully integrated.  Waiting for instruction.”

Tony grinned and let his hands fall back into his lap.  It had worked.  The voice was perfect.  He looked up at the camera he’d linked the new AI into and waved.

“Hello, Jarvis.”

There was a pause, then the voice rang out once more, sounding warm and human and fucking alive, and Tony shook with the effort it took not to cry.

“Hello Sir.”

(Barely) Controlled Chaos # 22

So, regular posting again for a while.  Enjoy it while it lasts

Warnings: none

October 2000, Clifftop House, Malibu

“Tony…”

Tony was beginning to wish he’d never convinced Pepper to call him by his first name; it was all he’d heard from her in the last three weeks, and it was beginning to grate on his nerves.  Well, less the name than the increasing levels of pity it contained.  He gritted his teeth.  He did not need pity, thank you very much.

“Ms Potts.  Unless you are here to tell me that the R&D department had completed its move to the California base, I have no need of your services.  Get out.”

Pepper didn’t move from her spot in the middle of his workshop, and the disapproving growls from all the Pokémon present echoed off the concrete walls and told him that he’d finally found the line; even Ditto was judging him.  He sighed and turned off the soldering iron in his hand, laying it carefully on the table in front of him.

“What do you want?”  It was the closest he was going to get to saying ‘sorry’, and she took the implied apology as only someone who had put up with Tony for long periods of time could.  The Pokémon relaxed, and Ditto appeared from somewhere behind Tony and crawled up his arm to rest against his neck.  He lifted his shoulder, and Ditto took the implied hug and plastered itself to his throat in an enthusiastic reciprocation.  Tony had to quirk a smile at that, which was no doubt what the blob had been going for.

Pepper took a step forward, laying a gentle hand on Tony’s free shoulder.  He twitched under the contact, trying his best not to flinch away from her, but she snatched her hand back regardless, her face pinched in worry.  Tony sighed and looked back down at the circuit board he’d been fiddling with.

“Tony,” she said, voice little more than a whisper.  He clenched a fist at the tone, but didn’t snap at her again, which Herdier seemed to approve of, if the head resting in his lap was any indication.  He carded his fingers through the Pokémon’s fur, focussing on the sensation of the hair over his skin rather than Pepper’s voice.  It didn’t stop him hearing every word she said, in that damn sympathetic tone that made him want to scream that he wasn’t made of glass.  Steel, maybe, or iron; something hard and shatter-proof.  He had to be, because the press wouldn’t let him be anything less, and they were all over him every time he left the Malibu house now, looking for any sign of weakness, anything they could market and splash all over the front page.  He’d put up with it for a week, perfecting his I’m-Tony-fucking-Stark-I’m-untouchable act, then given up trying to dodge them and stayed inside.  It was that, or punch the next twat who asked him how he felt about the breakup in the nose, and if he did that, Pepper would actually kill him.

“You’ve been in here for three days, and you haven’t left the house in almost two weeks.  I’m worried about you Tony; everyone is.  James Rhodes called me three times in the last hour alone, and Obadiah can only keep the Board off your back for so long.  Please, Tony, let me call somebody.  You need help.”

Herdier licked Tony’s wrist in a show of support for her words.  Tony pulled his hand back; he wasn’t so broken that he needed the kind of help she was suggesting.  He wasn’t.

Maybe if he repeated it often enough, he’d start to believe it.

No, Joanna hadn’t broken him.  She’d done everything in her power not to hurt him, but there was no way that her leaving wouldn’t leave him a shattered wreck in her wake, and the press were always going to fucking eat that up, and he’d be a victim one day and it’d be his fault the next, and so would Joanna, and she didn’t deserve that, didn’t deserve him.  She was worth so much more, more than anything Tony could offer her, and now he was pitying himself in his own head, and this needed to stop.

Maybe Pepper had a point.

Hell, he couldn’t even touch another person without flinching, without remembering the feel of Joanna’s lips brushing his, a whisper of a touch, before she stroked his cheek and turned around and left him alone.  Oh, his Pokémon were fine, they’d plastered themselves to him as soon as Joanna was out the door, and hadn’t left his side since; their touches were the only things holding him together.  It was people he had trouble with.  Well, fuck that.  He was fixing this, and he didn’t need any therapist to help him.  He had a simple solution; it involved lots of alcohol, a pre-paid hotel room and a nightclub that refused to let press inside on principle.

“Tony?”

Tony looked up at Pepper, who was now wearing her I-know-you’re-plotting-something-I’m-going-to-disapprove-of face, and Tony grinned, because it was miles better than the worried looks she’d been shooting him for the last however long, he no longer cared.

“I’m fine Pepper.  I don’t need help.  I need Happy.  Tell him to meet me out front in an hour.  Hang on, what time is it?”

Pepper frowned at him.

“Tony…”

“Time, Pepper?”

She sighed.  “Eight pm.”

“Make it two hours.”

“Tony, you’re not planning what I think you’re planning, are you?”

Tony shrugged, pushing the circuit board he’d been fiddling with for the last eighty-odd hours aside and standing up, stepping around Herdier when the Pokémon reused to move.  “Given the judgement in your tone, probably.”

“Tony…”

“You wanted me to leave the house, Pep, what’s the problem?”  He paused, Herdier’s Disappointed Face making him realise that he was being a jerk again, then sighed.  “I promise not to do anything tabloid-worthy, ok?  Just, you’re right, I need to get out.  Out of the house… out of my head.  Just for a while.  It’s not a nice place to be right now.”

Ok, that was probably a little more honesty than necessary, but it had the desired result.  Pepper relented, reluctantly, and promised to have Happy waiting outside for him in two hours.  She walked towards the door, hesitated, then came back over and brushed a light kiss across his cheek.

“Be careful, Tony,” she said, voice low, then she was gone, and Tony was alone with his Pokémon.  Herdier was giving him a Look that made him squirm, but wasn’t getting in his way, so while the dog didn’t approve of Tony’s idea of therapy, he wasn’t going to stop him either.  Tony knelt down and buried his face in Herdier’s neck.

“I’ll be careful, promise,” he whispered, and Herdier licked the back of his neck.  Ditto squirmed, making Tony laugh, and he looked up.  “Thank you.”

Herdier licked his nose, gave Ditto a look that translated roughly into ‘I don’t know why I’m trusting you, but I am, so don’t screw this up’, then stood up and left the lab in the same manner as Pepper.  Tony lifted his hand to cup over Ditto’s form.

“Looks like it’s you and me, buddy.”

Ditto made a high-pitched noise right in Tony’s ear, making him wince, then he stood and headed for the shower that was in a small room adjacent to his workshop.  He smelled like solder and sweat, and that was not the impression he wanted to make upon his return to the wider world.

Is this not the cutest thing ever like his eyes and his paws

Odd Things To Happen At Work # 7

Ok, so I get that I look foreign.  After several people - including my colleages for some time - refusing to believe that I am, in fact, English, I understand that I look Mediterranean.  Spanish, most people seem to think.  That doesn't explain why last weekend a guy - who had already asked me once if I was Spanish and been told no - insisted on attempting to order from me in Spanish.  I don't speak any Spanish beyond 'si' and 'ocho', but I don't need to know more to know that whatever he was saying, it wasn't Spanish.  Gibberish maybe.  Certainly not any language spoken by any other person on the planet.

He did this twice before resorting to pointing at what he wanted.

The thing that really confused me though, was that he was English.  Why didn't he just talk to me like a normal person?