Okay no, that was
dangerous phrasing, he was not dying – not anymore at least – and
those kind of thoughts should be shoved into the scarce parts of his
brain that didn’t work. But he was absolutely, pissing tired.
of at least 72 hours of no sleep and bare minimum of food was
starting to be a bad idea (somewhere in the back of his mind he heard
a voice – ‘Starting to?’ – which
sounded suspiciously like Pepper) and
Tony was hit with the friendly reminder that he was very
much human and on the wrong
side of forty.
few steps to the left, boss. That’s a wall, not the kitchen. To the
right. That’s a painting.”
Thanks, Fri. He
would’ve said it aloud, but blurry edges on his sight combined with
a notoriously LSD-like color burst, dizziness and muffled hearing kind of hindered his ability to speak at the moment. Coffee.
God I need coffee, bowls of it – no, bathtubs of it.
Friday’s aid, Tony stumbled into the common area and headed for the
kitchen. He vaguely registered some murmur, indicating some of his
team – yeah right, team
– was present. Probably catching up with dear
ol’ God of Thunder, who had finally decided to show up for the
fiasco that was Civil War and its aftermath, and Banner. Who Tony
still had yet to talk to, but felt as if he would only turn another
team – ha, team –
member against him.
know, for trying to do things right and failing. Again.
Stark! That’s the rice cooker. The coffee maker is to the left!”
voice sounded a little less farther away than the others, but still
muffled. Tony guessed he was on his favorite bar stool wearing the
Spider-Man mask. Not unusual, his identity was a secret to everyone
but him of all the Avengers. Wonder how Captain Freezerburn
would react if he knew he had fought a 15 year old kid,
Tony thought, even though he himself was still wary of Peter’s
contribution to the superhero troop.
you, kid,” he mumbled in response, because despite everything, this
spider kid was the one good thing in his life. He still didn’t know
how the fuck that worked out, but.
moved, barely catching Peter’s, “Oh careful, that’s—!” as
he took in the splotchy eye-to-brain input of something square and
metallic, picked it up and placed it out of the way – were he less
zombie-like he’d have heard the heavy tinny sound it made – and
made it to the coffee machine. He couldn’t help the noise of
triumph when he managed to punch the right button and the mug filled
halfway, dripping coffee everywhere in his haste to bring it to his
sweet coffee. He could actually
feel the world shift around him now that he had the power of
that’s the stuff, thanks kiddo. By the way, what the hell are you
doing here? Don’t you have school? Are you skipping school again? I
vividly recall us having this talk, Web-head,”
he said, blinking the
world back into clear sight. “Or do I have to call Aunt—what? Do
I have something on my face?”
eyes – well, the animated specs on his mask – were wide in a
gobsmacked expression, mouth clearly open behind the mask. Was he
impressed by the coffee? Kid was pretty excitable and Tony just
downed the whole mug in one go.
the others in the room were openly staring at him too, most of them
with a similar expression of astonishment, and they’d seen him do
that twice in a row, so that made no sense. He felt exposed for some
reason, uneasy at the now acknowledged presence of Team Cap, Natasha
and Thor in the room.
What did I do now?
Barton’s plate of pancakes went tumbling to the floor, shattering
into pieces right next to Barnes, but the ex-assassin didn’t even
flinch, eyes glued to Tony like he had just discovered the secret
behind the creation of their universe on his face.
“Tony…?” Rogers breathed, but Tony obviously wasn’t going to
look, not at him, so he just turned to Peter with his
best what-the-fuck face.
At clear loss for words, he pointed at his left hand. What? Tony
hadn’t even realized he was holding something there. Frowning, he
Mjölnir. Tony had picked up Thor’s hammer. To move it aside. For
coffee. Like it was nothing.
Tell us how Steve managed to cause a disaster on his bicycle, only hours after he was banned from using motorized vehicles.
you must know steve pretty well, because that is exactly what happened.
the morning after throwing yet another motorcycle at a supervillian, steve woke up early and decided to go out and get bagels. not at all unusual, except that his favorite bagel place is in brooklyn. so naturally steve decided to just bike there.
tony keeps a dozen or so bikes in the vehicle garage, and pretty much every one of them is weirder than the one before. one is a concept made by ferrari; another one is made from bamboo and was a gift from an MIT student whose research he funded. one appears to have some sort of rocket engine attached. with selections like that, you can see why steve chose the oldest, plainest bike in the group.
what steve did not know was that this was the Deathbike.
see, when tony was 14 and starting at MIT, he wasnt licensed to drive and needed a way to get around campus quickly. so, like many other college students, he got a bike. a very nice, high-end bike, of course, but otherwise perfectly innocuous. (it was a bit too big for him. he insists it wasnt, and that he’s not short.)
tony rode it home and painted it black.
within the first month of owning the Deathbike, tony ran into two people, was run into three times by other cyclists, and just barely missed being hit by a car. tony refused to admit that either 1. the bike was cursed or 2. he was just a terrible cyclist, and instead painted a tiny white skull on the side of the bike for every collision, and rode it for the rest of his time at MIT. somehow, he survived, and no one was seriously injured. (he admits that there may have been a few broken bones. but he paid the medical bills, so it was fine.)
by the time steve took the bike out, there were twenty-seven little skulls.
steve knew none of this, and headed out on the sidewalks aboard the Deathbike. he made it a block or two on thankfully empty sidewalks before tony’s modifications kicked in.
little 14-year-old madman stark, drunk on alcohol and puberty, decided that his two-wheeled killing machine didnt go fast enough. so, using the genius and lack of foresight the stark bloodline had given him, he made some changes. and now the Deathbike has a little electric engine that kicks in after a certain speed, which basically increases how fast the bike goes per pedal. tony says the fastest he was ever clocked on it was about forty mph–but insists he could have made it faster, except he didnt want to make it too bulky.
steve was doing fifty miles an hour by the time he was six blocks from the tower.
since steve is himself, instead of maybe slowing down when he realized how fast he was going, he decided to see how fast he could get. and it turns out that a supersoldier on a bike built by teenage tony stark can go plenty damn fast.
a traffic cam on the brooklyn bridge clocked him at nearly 115 mph.
but dont forget–this is the Deathbike. it earned its name, and would fulfill its mildly inconvenient legacy regardless of who was riding it.
also, its tires were never built for that kind of stress.
steve turned around the corner of the block where the bagel shop is going some eighty-odd mph (having slowed down to turn), and hit a heap of cardboard. if he’d been going slower, or if the wheels had been in better shape, he might have been able to brake in time. as it was, he was still going pretty fast when he hit it. and since the universe loves to laugh at steve, the pile of cardboard was shaped pretty much like a ramp.
steve and the Deathbike went airborne.
somehow, the early morning commuters failed to notice captain america hurtling through the sky on the worlds most sadistic pedal-powered monster, so when he landed in the bed of an old metal pickup, nobody checked on him when he didn’t pop right back out. instead, the Deathbike, steve, and steve’s shiny new concussion remained right where they were, in blissful unconsciousness.
when steve finally woke up, he was somewhere in southern virginia, and there was a very confused pickup truck driver wondering how the heck he’d wound up with a giant man and a bike in his truck.
we would have made steve bike back, but we didnt want to tempt fate. instead we sent a quinjet.
At the end of every summer the older campers get together to play drunk battle games with foam swords, padded arrows, armour made from cardboard and kitchen pots, and have chariot races with people pulling the chariots instead of Pegasus
well, most of the avengers have at some time or another. steve, tony, thor, and clint are all surprisingly good hairstylists. i used to be able to do basic braids for my sisters, but the asskicking robot hand makes it pretty hard. hair tends to get stuck in the plates.
also–and my memory is pretty spotty, so this could be wrong–i think a hydra tech gave me french braids once??? i dont know why.
Hey, since you have trouble touching people without stabbing them, but like cuddling pets, have you considered trying to hug T'Challa? Or possibly getting Tony to put on cat ears?
you have a serious flaw in your logic.
tchalla is a cat-man who has repeatedly tried to claw my face off. it was freakin traumatizing. you think a normal cat that doesnt wanna be petted is bad, try getting handsy with tchalla.
not that ive gotten handsy with tchalla. i like my face attached to my person, thank you very much.
tony put on cat ears a few months ago in a fit of confused sleep deprivation. the picture circulated through avengers-related group chats for weeks. nick fury called it, and i quote, ‘fucking adorable.’ tony is sometimes a no-toucher too though, so mostly we let him initiate contract when he wants to. so no, i did not hug tony when he was wearing cat ears.
steve did have to carry him to bed though. and that picture circulated for months