Posts tagged WIP
Posts tagged WIP
DJ nodded, grinning like a loon.
“Wow,” Phil repeated, his head tipping back. DJ did the same, his hands tucked in the back pockets of his jeans. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking proud.
Phil cleared his throat. “Wow.”
DJ giggled, and grabbed his hand, towing him forward. Phil stumbled along in his wake, just staring at everything.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
New fic posted, the continuing adventures of DJ Stark and his father, who never signed up for this, he just wanted a damn helper bot, really, who brought magic into this damn equation?
He is well loved, anyway. 8)
((So, for those of you who asked about Steve and his insistence that DJ is Tony’s son, it’s because there’s another piece between the ‘origins’ of Dummy and the Kid!Phil piece. Here’s the beginning, for those who are interested. 8) ))
“You’re telling me that I’m going to have to sue for custody?” Tony asked, absolutely stymied. “Sue who for custody? He doesn’t even have a biological mother. What- Am I supposed to find the Harry Potter villain who did this and serve him or her a subpoena?”
Josephine Rochester wasn’t amused. Of course, she’d been the head of the legal department of StarkIndustries for five years now, so she’d dealt with worse than his sense of humor. “The situation with DJ is rather difficult,” she said. There were a stack of folders on the desk in front of her, and she rested one carefully manicured hand on top of them. “We have to take this very carefully.”
“I don’t pay you to tell me things are difficult,” Tony ground out.
“You don’t pay me to blow smoke up your ass, either, Mr. Stark,” she said, her voice hard. “You pay me to do the best I can with what you give me, and stay on the gray side of legal.” She set her hands on the table, her fingers spread. “So here is the reality of our situation.
“You have a boy with no paperwork, no obvious origin, and, yes, no mother. Genetically, he is identical to you, or so close that any difference is immaterial. You can bring every magic user in town to come and testify on your behalf, but it is far more likely for any governing body to decide that DJ is the result of an illegal cloning experiment.”
He opened his eyes and he had no idea where he was.
“It’s okay. You’re safe. Ochre moon, Phil.”
His head snapped to the side, and it took him a second to remember, he was scared and he was frustrated and it msut’ve showed on his face, because the man held up both his hands, waiting patiently for Phil to fully wake up.
“Do you remember me?” the man asked, and there was an oddly hopeful note to his voice. Phil studied him for a second, and then his mind cleared enough for him to recall the mess in the lobby.
“You’re Clint,” he said, the words careful. “You were… Downstairs. You knew the codephrase.”
Something like disappointment flickered over the man’s face, but it was gone so fast that Phil wasn’t really sure he’d seen it at all. “Yeah,” Clint said with a smile. “Your mother told that one to me. And Jarvis is getting her on the phone right now, so you can talk to her, okay?”
And just like that, the phone next to the bed rang, making Phil jump. Clint stood up. “I’ll wait outside, okay? While you’re on the phone.”
Phil nodded. And picked up the receiver, not even waiting for the door to shut behind Clint before he grabbed for it. He couldn’t take the risk that it would stop ringing, leaving him alone again. “Hello?” His voice shook, a little, and he swallowed hard.
He clutched the phone with both hands, struggling not to cry. “Mom?” Her voice was a little tinny, a little odd, like the line wasn’t so good, but he knew his mother’s voice.
(The first part of this can be found here: http://scifigrl47.tumblr.com/post/63934104001/avengers-fic-rescue-missions-and-mistaken-identities )
The boy knew the building. Phil wondered if he’d gotten out before. And if he had, how far he’d gotten before they’d caught him and put him back. On some level, it was reassuring. They hadn’t killed him, or even injured him badly, if he was willing to try again.
Of course, the kid seemed to be fearless.
Phil found himself following the boy through quiet, dimly lit back corridors, and down empty stairwells. Despite his bare feet, the kid moved fast, without pausing. He paused on one landing, glancing up at the evacuation sign.
“What’s your name?” Phil asked. The boy looked at him, his mouth pressed tightly closed. Phil pointed at the sign. “Can you spell your name? Can you point to the letters?”
The boy looked, and his face relaxed. He reached up and tapped a finger against a letter D, and then the letter J. Phil waited, but the boy’s hand went back to his side. “DJ?” Phil asked. The boy nodded, grinning. “Okay,” Phil said, and it was a relief. It was a relief to have a name. Even as he said it, though, he remembered the red-headed woman calling the boy that. Phil wondered if that was his real name.
DJ tapped a spot on the diagram, and Phil leaned in, frowning at the image. “A loading dock?” he asked, and DJ shook his head. Whatever that space was, DJ had set his sights on that particular spot on the map. He grabbed Phil’s hand and dragged him down the stairs, giggling as he hopped down the stairs.
Phil held on tight to his hand, telling himself that it was to protect the smaller boy. But right now, DJ was the only thing he had to hold onto, and he didn’t know if that was for DJ’s benefit, or his own. He wasn’t sure it mattered.
DJ reached the landing, pushed the door open, and stopped short.
The guard blinked down at them. “Hi, DJ,” he said, reaching up to to adjust his cap. “I didn’t think that you were supposed to be-”
DJ slammed the door shut and slammed a hand against the keypad next to the door. He hit a few keys, and there was the sound of a lock engaging with a hollow clunk. Phil stared at the closed panel. “I think we’d better-”
An alarm started to wail.
((everything will be fine. I promise. Parts 9 and 10 were published within the last week and can be found on my tumblr, promise promise. I don’t do death fic and I don’t do break up fic, so it’ll be fine. 8) ))
Tony was never so glad to be home in his entire life.
“I will regret skipping that debrief,” he said aloud as he shoved his way through the front door of their suite. “I will regret this very much, and very deeply, I know I will. But let me tell you, right now? I am just so happy to get home.” He headed straight for the bar. “What a fucking nightmare of a couple of days.”
Behind him, Steve pulled the door shut. He’d been quiet the whole way home, his eyes closed, his head back through most of the flight back to the US. He hadn’t been asleep, Tony knew what he looked like when he slept, and though that was a pretty good approximation, it wasn’t the real thing. He knew what Steve looked like when he slept, but he also knew what Steve looked like when he was faking it.
And Steve had been feigning sleep the entire way home.
“That was fucking awful, I will never let Pepper forget this, I will never let her-”
“Was it Pepper’s choice?”
The soft words stilled him, and Tony paused, halfway across their expensive living room, his eye’s finding Steve’s. Steve, who was still standing just inside the door, one hand still on the door knob, his face blank and expressionless. Tony felt his stomach sink, a sickening sensation of nausea twisting through him. He paused, tried to smile. “Yeah. She’s the one who sent me.” Tony turned back towards the bar, wanting a drink, but wanting an escape route even more. He gave the gleaming rows of liquor a wistful look, then headed for the bedroom door. “I need a shower, like, yesterday. You going to join me?”
“Because two international flights, a fight in a factory, a couple of rounds in the suitcase suit, and it’s called the suitcase suit for a reason, it’s like being in a damn suitcase, any of that would require a shower, all of it, and I am absolutely rank, and-”
“What happened to your face?”
Despite Tony’s wishes, they didn’t really get far.
As it turned out, there was still work to be done. Clint and Natasha lead the SHIELD teams that cleared out the last of the AIM personnel, ignoring the shouted promises of revenge and statements about information needing to be free, because they were getting used to that stupidity. For their part, Tony and Coulson and Bruce ended up digging through all of the computer files that they could pull up. Thor paced through the crowds of the employees, chatting and reassuring people, getting his picture taken and signing whatever was thrust in his direction. At one point, he was posed with an elderly dock worker seated neatly on his flexed bicep as the women clapped and cheered.
Steve rather wished there was someone left to punch.
((I’m tired and cranky and I really am trying to get this done, so please bear with me. If you’re looking to get caught up on this one, you’re probably better off reviewing it on AO3 than looking for the Tumblr posts. It can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/652230 Just a reminder, Tony is a lousy liar and he’s going to regret all of this soon enough.))
“Is there a reason you’re carrying that?” Steve said, the words pitched low and soft.
Tony strode along next to him, his shoulders back, his head up, the suitcase suit gripped in his left hand, the case between him and Steve. He was making a distinct effort to look bored. “I thought I was supposed to carry it,” he said with a flirtatious smile. “I get bitched out when I leave it behind.”
“Why, exactly, aren’t you wearing it?” Steve said, his eyes flicking upwards for a single blink. Frustration and relief were warring somewhere low in his stomach. Right now, relief was winning. “In that it doesn’t help you very much if you’re not wearing it.”
“We have bigger problems,” Tony said, waving a hand at the factory at large.
((for Paxie, on the advent of her birth. Everyone regrets their prompts to me eventually. Every. Single. Person. Probably not what she had in mind, but hopefully, still acceptable. 8) ))
He felt like he’d been hit by a truck. And yes. He knew what that felt like. Damn sisters.
Groaning, he rolled over, and his face scraped against the ground, and his stomach kept going. For a second, he thought he was going to throw up, and he squeezed his eyes and his mouth shut, breathing through his nose in short, quick bursts. When his stomach reluctantly settled back where it belonged, he risked opening his eyes.
He had no idea where he was.
“You are useless,” Tony told Harris.
“Look. I don’t know what you expected us to do, go fingerprint the guy?” Harris said. He was not amused, and ‘not amused’ on Harris was actually pretty amusing. For Tony, at least. “You sent me in there with the worst cover story ever, Stark.”
“Fuck you, I had a great time,” Darcy said. “We told ‘em it was Drew and Shawn’s bachelorette party. Small. Intimate, even.”
“Batchelorette?” Bruce asked.
“They have a package,” Shawn explained.
“I got a TIARA,” Drew said, and he was proud of that. Proud enough to still be wearing the damn thing. It was pretty damn nice, as plastic party ware went.
“I got booze,” Shawn said.
“Aren’t you underage?” Steve asked him, his brow furrowing.
“Tony gave us-”
“Never mind, let’s just move on here,” Tony cut in, before anyone could tell Captain America about the legally questionable ids that had been handed over tonight, because he didn’t want their real names appearing on any records, and this was an undercover mission after all. The fact that the ids bumped their ages up a bit was not a fact that Steve needed to know.
((First part here. Potential triggers for underage individuals working places they ought not to be working and discussion of exotic dancing))
Natasha let out a faint, long-suffering sigh. “Stark, I do not want to break your kneecaps, but I will. Sit your ass down.”
Tony looked at Coulson. “In interests of team unity, is she allowed to talk to me like that?”
Coulson was bent over his computer, and he didn’t even look in Tony’s direction. “In interests of team survival, she is encouraged to speak to you like that.”
“Sit down, Stark,” Coulson said, and Tony sat. “Thank you. We appreciate your co-operation.”
“You’d better,” Tony grumbled. “So. What are we doing about this?”
“Research.” Clint was pacing back and forth, his loose and easy gait measuring of the distance. He was staring down at the tablet in his hands. “Which is taking longer than it should.”
“You have to hear this.” Tony stripped off his jacket, tossing it haphazardly in the general direction of the table. Steve snagged it out of mid air, and hung it neatly over the back of the chair. Tony pretended not to notice. “Hi, by the way.”
Steve was smiling, his eyes warm. “Hi, yourself.” He poured a cup of coffee and held it out, a very effective lure. Of course, so was he, in well-worn sweat pants that clung to his hips and a t-shirt that might as well have been a second skin. Tony wandered over to take the coffee cup, and Steve caught his hand, tugging him in. Their fingers tangled together around the warm cup, and Tony tipped his chin up for a kiss.
Steve tasted like coffee and mint, and his free hand settled easily at the small of Tony’s back, stroking there, just above the waistband of Tony’s pants. “Hi, indeed,” Tony said, against Steve’s lips, making him laugh. Tony pulled back, just enough to see Steve’s eyes, and grinned at the way his hair fell over his forehead. He reached up and flicked the strands away from Steve’s face.
Steve jerked his head away, a faint flush rising in his cheeks. “Stop it,” he said, but the words were full of affection. “Had a few drinks, have we?”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell have.” Tony leaned back against his hand, comfortable in Steve’s strong grip. “Wanna take advantage?”
Steve snagged his tie. “No,” he said, dragging him in. “Not at all.” His lips caught and clung on Tony’s, the kiss deepening and his fingers climbing up Tony’s tie until the were snug against Tony’s chest. Tony smiled against Steve’s mouth. “Smug,” Steve whispered, not bothering to raise his head.
“Kinda,” Tony said, dragging Steve against him. “But I’ve got reason to.” His hand slid down to cup Steve’s ass. “Look who I’m in the process of seducing.”
“What, exactly, is that smell?”
Darcy chewed enthusiastically on her lower lip. “One third the best of Stark’s liquor cabinet, one third those really excellent doner kabobs from that place in midtown-”
“These are most excellent!” Sif held up her pita, grinning wide and bright. She licked a bit of sauce off of the inside of her wrist. She was wearing one of Darcy’s exercise outfits, and it was about three sizes too small. She made it work though, even if the yoga pants were at her knees and the tank top bared about six inches of toned, perfect tummy. “A feast fit for any warrior!”
“Yes, they are. And the last third,” Darcy said, leaning back and holding up one half-painted foot. She wiggled her toes. “Is the best nail polish available under current federal standards.” She gave the bottle a quick shake. “You want in on this? We got, uh, Crimson Cowl, Blizzard, Blacklash…” She glanced at Jane. “What do you have over there?”
Jane tucked her feet up under her. Her ragged cut off sweat pant shorts and one of Thor’s t-shirts were both too big and she swam in them, perfectly happy to be lost in a sea of warm, soft boyfriend fabric. The neckline of her shirt slid down over her shoulder as she sorted through the bottles. “Sunset Bain, Firebrand, Grey Gargoyle, Shockwave?”
“These things have stupid names,” Darcy said. She grinned up at Natasha, who was now standing over her, one hand propped on her hip, her hair a perfect wave of red over one brow. “Why do they have such stupid names?”
Natasha picked up a bottle of Crimson Cowl. “Deadlines,” she said with a faint smile. “And likely drugs.” She rotated the bottle in the light, letting the light play over the polish. “It’s a good color, though.”
Darcy held up a hand, where the deep, gleaming red lacquer covered her fingernails. “I think it suits me.” She made claws with her fingers. “Second only to the blood of my enemies!”
Laughing, Natasha patted her lightly on the head. “Well said.” She took a seat with a faint sigh. “Why are are we painting nails and drinking tonight?”
“Because cake is fattening,” Darcy said. “And we don’t have any.”
The newest chapter of the Avengers/Pacific Rim AU is up:
I’ve posted the first part of my Avengers/Pacific Rim AU.
It’s Kara’s fault.