silver mckellar and tony stark are (silverandsteel) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-10-05 23:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | door: marvel comics, iron man, mary jane watson |
Who: Tony & Mary Jane
What: Tony tries to run off his new assistant with SCIENCE
Where: The Labs in Stark Tower
When: Not too long ago?
Warnings/Rating: I can't remember if Tony swears.
Interning at Stark Industries had turned into quite the experience for Mary Jane Watson. It wasn’t quite what she was interested in career-wise. That would, of course, be investigative journalism; she wanted to be the next face on one of those cable news programs that outed awful things politicians did and stuff. It wasn’t sciencey, like what Gwen and Peter were totally into, and it wasn’t business-y, like what Harry seemed to be drawn to (or forced to, MJ couldn’t quite decide yet), but it was good for her. She liked digging into things and playing detective and helping in her own way, a way that didn’t compromise herself and played to her strengths. She could save the world, too. Just not swinging through New York City in spandex or by creating free energy or whatever. Still, it was interesting to see how Stark Industries worked. She remembered some things about it, about how it used to be weapons-building, but this company and this Tony Stark weren’t quite like the one she saw around growing up. But the hustle and bustle of Stark Tower fit what she imagined, and though she wasn’t a genius by any means, she seemed to fit in well enough. As well as an eighteen year old working in a massive conglomerate anyway.
She reported to Ms. Potts directly, and for the most part had been given busy work while the woman was through the door -- filing papers, organizing press releases, preparing Mr. Stark’s schedule. Things, it seemed, that a personal assistant did with another personal assistant hovering over her shoulder. It wasn’t as though she didn’t like Ms. Potts, and it wasn’t as though she thought she could handle all of this on her own. MJ just hadn’t gotten a chance to actually interact with the man she was apparently working with yet, and that seemed a little weird. Maybe Ms. Potts didn’t trust her, or maaaybe Ms. Potts just wanted to keep Mr. Stark to herself. And MJ liked to believe the latter, if only because it made Stark Industries all the more interesting.
Opportunity, however, reared its head one afternoon. It was early in the day, just after 2 PM, and Mary Jane just arrived at the office after school after changing into her office wear -- a black, sleeveless dress with nude heels and her bright red hair tied back into a ponytail. (She thought dressing as professionally as possible made her look older, or at least a little more credible.) Before she could sit down to some filing, she spotted the office phone flashing with voicemail, and just as she was dialing to check, the phone rang again. The second MJ picked up the person on the other end began yelling something about Tony Stark and a charity event and why wasn’t he there already. The young redhead rolled her eyes, but apologized profusely and promised to get to the bottom of it quickly.
Ms. Potts didn’t answer her phone when called multiple times, and Mary Jane nearly headdesked right then. Great. She had no idea where Mr. Stark was, if he was in his office or saving the world or god knew where. The man needed a tracking device, she decided, and maybe some controls in that suit to get him to places where he needed to be on time. There was the penthouse, she supposed, where he could be hiding out, but maybe the labs were a better bet. From what she’d witnessed and read and heard, Tony Stark could be doing one of two things: being a massive genius or boozing the day away. Or both. Either way, she’d give the labs a try first, and after snatching up one of the verification cards Ms. Potts made her. It allowed her to the floor that held the labs, but not through the doors themselves. She announced to JARVIS her name and intentions and Ms. Mary Jane Watson is here to speak to you, Mr. Stark echoed in the hallway, leaving MJ to wait for Mr. Stark to reply in whatever way he wanted.
The labs at Stark Tower in New York were extensive, and they were designed with the aesthetic in mind as well as the functional. Rather than bland taupe plaster everything was efficient frosted glass and keen lines. Feng shui designers would have a fit at the number of sharp corners and mirrored glass, but the touches of engraving and hints of blue glass always called up Tony’s aerodynamic designs and one could not look in any direction without being reminded just who worked here. The labs didn’t have the privacy of Tony’s private labs, the one nobody was supposed to know about under the Bay just outside the window or the one in the Malibu cliff on the other side of the country, but they had far more room and materials than either of those places.
Whatever Tony’s reply, it seemed like it must have been an affirmative, because the door chimed and clicked open as JARVIS’ polite response of “Welcome to Lab 7” indicated Tony’s affirmative reply. Through the doors, everything was open spaces and flat desks. Three dimensional models in blue light rotated slowly as silver bullets that used to conceal previous Iron Man designs stood open. The bullets looked like coffins with the dangling restraints empty, but repairs had been made so many times that the lab was more functional than the rest of the building, mainly steel plating and tile counters.
Tony had cleared an area in the center of the lab, and he was sitting on a low wheeled stool while he made some alterations to a piece of armor. For once, there was no music, just a distant ticking sound that was a lot like an engine cooling. The dangling metal was shaped as an arm hanging lengthwise, but it was split into four pieces and the inside looked like something out of Star Trek. Tony was wearing a short sleeved black shirt with a high collar that hid the scars down his back, and his sneakers and jeans were brand new. When she approached, Tony gave a little kick against the floor and rolled over to her. He always had this look of sardonic appraisal on his face whenever she got close, and a bright little smile that spoke of trouble touched his bearded features. “And here she is. Liking the office life, Ms. Watson?” His eyes went down to the heels and back up.
Mary Jane hadn’t seen much of the labs past the brief tour given on her first day, and well, the set-up was really, really impressive even for a girl who couldn’t name half the stuff in there. She smiled when he rolled over, something warm but professional, until she caught that look he gave her. That look earned him a raised eyebrow and a smirk of her own. Tony Stark didn’t phase her. Well, not really. He was super handsome, yes, and super smart and charming. MJ knew that, and maybe the way his eyes moved up and down colored her cheeks a little, but she could take on the legendary Tony Stark. “Loving it, in fact,” MJ said. She tilted her head to the side with her lips still curling up in the corner. Her fingers drummed against the clipboard her hand as if deciding whether or not disturb him when he was clearly working. “What I don’t love, Mr. Stark,” she continued, stepping a bit closer to him, “is when you aren’t where you’re supposed to be when you’re supposed to be there. Makes my job difficult, y’know.”
"Do tell. I think that where I am tends to be where I'm supposed to be, Ms. Watson..." Tony looked from her shoes to the clipboard. He was strongly reminded of Pepper ten years ago, and it surprised him even as he realized it shouldn't. Of course, Pepper would hire someone she saw as competent, and no one was as competent as Pepper Potts even on her bad days. He wasn't even a little worried about Mary Jane’s scheduling difficulties (he did, actually, see them as her difficulties and not his). He gave his heels a little push against the tile and rotated the stool back in the direction of what he'd been working on, gauging something at the edge of the lab, where there was a tall window bordered by safety glass. Tony stood up while she was still speaking and stepped closer to her, reaching out and taking one of her hands like a prince handing down a princess to the landing. He drew her in front of him, and, ruining the illusion in one stroke, positioned her precisely where the stool had been a second before. The arm was now hanging to one side. Tony moved around with his hands on her shoulders and gave her a bright smile. "Just... stay right there." He stepped back, measured her height to his. "JARVIS, give me that ETA with potential interference data?" The AI started reading off numbers in meters per second while Tony circled around Mary Jane.
“I--.” MJ began to speak, but the words got caught in her throat when Tony grabbed for her hand and drew her closer, not immediately making the connection of her placement. Instead she found herself looking at the way Mr. Stark’s eyes wrinkled when he smiled and that cologne he was wearing, but she closed her eyes and shook her head violently as he held her shoulders in place. Get a grip, Watson. Sighing, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment longer. “Mr. Stark,” she said, opening her eyes finally and trailing his progress circling around her. “Charity gig? Ring any bells? Because,” she paused long enough to glance down at the clipboard, “Mr. Bluth from Renewable World thinks it does. Something about Stark Industries’ clean energy, and how it’s going to save the world, and how it’s just necessary that you show your face.” Mary Jane stood still as he continued his sweep and fought the desperate urge to flick him off, even as her fingers twitched in betrayal.
With a suspicious twinkle in his eye, Tony drew back away from where Mary Jane was standing, tilting his head at certain angles. “I’m part of a lot of charities, Ms. Watson,” he said, as he did this, settling to a specific spot behind her while she faced one corner of the lab and he had his back to the door she’d just walked through. The robotic shell of the arm he’d been working on was now pulled up entirely to one side, and he kept on making measurements with one eye while replying to JARVIS’ increasingly esoteric comments about fuel and pressure. “I promise you that Mr. Bluth from Renewable World will be happy to incorporate whatever technology I give him without ever once setting eyes on my face. JARVIS, we’ll analyze the calculations later. Launch, please.” The polite A.I. said something about recommending a test pilot, which Tony ignored. “Nonsense. It will work.” There was a begrudging assent, a snide comment about insurance, and then, in the far off distance, there began an ominous roaring. Tony continued through it, “The most important part of your job, Ms. Watson, is the art of saying no.” He leaned his head over her shoulder to take in the edge of her vision, and then smiled a dangerous smile.
The roar, which caused MJ to nearly jump out of her skin, piqued her interest. Despite not being a science or technology geek like Gwen or Peter, she still wanted to know what he was working on. It was really cool, what Mr. Stark made, whether it was an iron suit or a renewable energy resource. Completely focused on craning her neck to catch a glimpse of his work in the distance, she almost missed Mr. Stark leaning into her line of vision. Almost. “And what am I supposed to be saying no to?” She smiled despite herself, something with edge and coyness, glancing at him through the corner of her eye. So what if he was her boss technically and had about twenty years on her? MJ could play this game too.
This show of spine took Tony slightly aback. It was fully visible in his face, just like it was obvious that he liked it more than he expected to. He smiled a bright little boy’s smile, which was dangerous in an entirely different way than his last one. “These people that come and bother me when I’m working. Technology takes work. Very important. Sometimes you’ve got to wield that no for me.” The roaring was getting louder. It sounded like Cape Canaveral. “Technology also takes experimentation,” he added, brightly. “Don’t move for me, okay?” He stepped away from her, giving about five feet difference and positioning himself behind the gleam of the window.
The roaring turned deafening and a rocket about three times the size of a football smashed through the bulletproof glass like a knife through dry toast. Tony called something to JARVIS as the rocket headed right toward MJ at astonishing speed. JARVIS’ reply began, but was lost in the sound of the accelerant as the rocket came at MJ’s face and then dodged, with incredible agility, right around her, resuming a path toward Tony. The rocket split open milliseconds before it reached him and there was a flash of expanding silver right before it collided with his chest and knocked him flat.
The roaring died out. Tony blinked up at the ceiling with half a rocket still attempting to expand chunks of armor in all directions. A ceiling light popped. “...Ow.”
MJ was about to respond with something Ms. Potts had said recently about being able to tell Tony no when he stepped away. Great, wonderful, she was working with a flirty man-child. But wasn’t that what everyone said about Mr. Stark? She also caught that smile, the one that boys her age gave her in the halls and at parties, and there was a strange thrill in her stomach because of it. Not that she was a stranger to attention.
None of that mattered, of course, when she finally registered what was going on. Didn’t JARVIS say something about insurance? The roar got closer, and then she saw it, but she was still glued to the spot regardless. Staring at a rocket barreling towards her, Mary Jane was convinced for a moment that she was about to become a victim of Tony Stark’s total dumbassery. There were goodbyes in her mind and prayers to a god she didn’t believe in, and her heart battered with astonishing speed against her chest. Here it was, the end, and she still couldn’t move the hell out of the way. But the rocket thankfully reared in another direction, accompanied by a blinding light.
She waited for a moment until her heart calmed down enough for her to catch her breath. Reeling and full of rage, she turned to where Tony stood a moment before. “Holy shit,” she said. She scrambled over to where he now laid on the floor and knelt down. “Holy shit, holy shit, are you okay, Mr. Stark?” Still pale as a ghost and with her heart in her throat, her stomach still plummeted to the floor. Figures she would be on the clock when Tony nearly kills himself.
Tony continued to stare up at the ceiling, recovering from the impact. It smelled like burnt rocket fuel, which was really unpleasant in a spilled gasoline and charred alcohol kind of way, and Tony’s chestpiece shone through the tatters of his shirt. The many pieces of the armor were still attempting to unfold from the shell of the rocket, like a praying mantis’ limbs. Tony caught a still twitching skeletal piece of pauldron and tossed it to one side. “So the organic evasion program is good, but I think I need to work on the brakes.” Tony coughed and tapped on his chest piece, which was still glowing calmly as his chest rose and fell. “Ow,” he added.
Tony sat up, shedding more bits of armor. He looked at her closely to see if she’d been singed. “How you doing? All in one piece, huh? I didn’t expect it to actually, you know. Make contact.” Tony pulled at the remains of the front of his shirt. “Damn. This was vintage.”
MJ gently placed a light hand on his arm and began to look for any visible damage. Her eyes fell on the glowing piece in his chest, watching it even as he began to pluck bits of the armor and metal out and around it. “I’m fine.” She looked up finally, green eyes meeting his dark browns. Color began to sneak its way back into her cheeks, and her breathing normalized. In and out, in and out. It took her a moment to collect herself, but when she did, it took all her might not to slap him. “Didn’t expect?! And you still shoot it at me?! Jesus Christ.” She huffed but still knelt next to him, even as she glared daggers at him. “Are you okay? Do you need me to do anything?”
Tony blinked out exhaust from the air in front of his eyes as he drew his heels up, looking away from the angry green gaze. Not visibly troubled by remorse, he began to rise, allowing her hand to slide off his arm as he did so without using it or her for support. “Well, I knew it would miss you, obviously,” he said, somewhat disgruntled that his experiment hadn’t sent her screaming from the building. Settled on both feet and obviously in good enough shape to do so without falling over, he knocked the remains of the test run to either side negligently with one foot, obviously not troubled by what must represent hundreds of hours and a six-figure price tag. “That was what the evasion and navigation program is for. Can’t have the armor knocking civilians over like ten-pins on its way to me, can I? Thank you very much, you were very brave. JARVIS, are you running some assessments on the fuel injection? It sounded like something went wrong once it came through the wall.” JARVIS made some sarcastic reply.
Still babbling about the physics of the experiment, half to himself and half to JARVIS and not at all to Mary Jane, Tony started pulling at the remains of his t-shirt while he set off across the floor toward the undamaged end of the lab and the door she had come through. The chemical washup station had a silver tray with six glasses and a ridiculously expensive bottle of scotch with a cracked seal sitting to one side of the sink. Still glowing and in danger of losing the remains of his left sleeve, Tony poured two glasses and held one out expectantly in her direction while JARVIS rattled off numbers.
Still crouching down, Mary Jane watched Mr. Stark kick the debris out of his way, wondering briefly how much all of the junk was. (And, of course, she knew it wasn’t actually junk, but that’s what the hell it looked like while it was in pieces on the floor.) God, he was insane. Completely, totally, certifiably insane, just like the tabloids liked to shout about, and she was pissed as all hell. But, at the same time, she couldn’t help but smirk. She would rather a genius scientist off his rocker than some boring ass stiff with a sneer and a crisp suit. As long as he didn’t try to kill her again.
Pushing herself off the floor, she followed a couple steps behind him, picking up the forgotten clipboard, now singed and covered in teeny pieces of debris. The glass of amber earned Tony a genuine look of surprise for a split-second before her face settled to an amused smile with one slightly raised brow. People (i.e. MK and that friend of hers, Wren) thought being around Spider-Man and that weird alien thing infecting Flash’s brain, but Tony Stark was way worse. “Drinking on the clock with a minor?” MJ reached Mr. Stark and leaned forward to wrap her fingers around the glass. “I don’t think that’s allowed, Mr. Stark.” Even as she chided him with her signature smirk, she tilted the glass to her lips and reveled in the burn of the scotch.
Caught up in his own thoughts, Tony drained half his glass in one without even tasting it. The British calculations tailed off and then finally died away, and when the A.I. fell silent Tony didn't jump to fill the space leftover. He lifted his head as if just noticing MJ and her glass for the first time. He gave a theatrical widening of his eyes and then scowled disapprovingly in a manner distinctly overblown. "Stealing my alcohol. I hope you need that for medicinal purposes." Tony rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling--very, very slowly. "Kids these days. I refuse to be responsible." He took another drink, more moderate this time, and then he shoved the glass away and moved around the edge of the sink, bending over with a groan to free a gym bag that was unnecessarily designer from the lower cupboard.
"So we should be expecting your two weeks, then?" he said, flippantly, settling the bag on the counter and stripping off the remains of his shirt. It wasn't that he forgot about the scars, the huge star pattern of white burns spreading out from the center of his lower back, it was just that he was engaged in other things, and Mary Jane was not Pepper. Tony had been extremely careful to keep his shirt on around Pepper, because he didn't think her imagination needed any help about what Loki's scepter had actually done to him after the bandages came off. It looked like someone had thrown a handful of molten metal at his back from five feet away, and it was anything but pretty.
“Psh, that was freely offered, Mr. Stark,” Mary Jane retorted, tilting her head with a wry smile before she sipped some more. While Tony shuffled around the workspace, she stood still, trailing his movements with her eyes. She suspected that he got hurt way more than he let on just then, and maybe she should attempt to get some sort of doctor to look at him. She suspected even more, however, that he wouldn’t go for it. “Nooo, I don’t think you can get rid of me that easily. Ms. Potts wouldn’t be happy, at least.” MJ couldn’t help staring for a moment at the angry lines crawling across Mr. Stark’s back, green eyes tracing the marks back and forth, back and forth. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked warily, placing the glass down and stepping forward. The sight made her a little queasy, but more because of what it implicated. What could have happened to Tony beforehand. “You just got shot in the chest. Maybe you should see a doctor.”
Tony turned and looked at her with his chin aligned over his shoulder and his dark eyes keenly knowing. He caught the nauseous look on her face and it was about what he expected when anyone without a medical degree caught him without a shirt on, which is why he hadn’t had picked up any arm candy since. Tony was a notoriously vain man, and he wanted to keep it that way; the best way of doing that was pretending everything was all the same, and it made him feel better about it at the same time. The blue glow was harder and sharper without the material to conceal it, a white electric blue that had no equal elsewhere on earth. The chestpiece was literally part of his chest, something that wasn’t part of the popular fan websites or the Iron Man news reports. Tony yanked a black Led Zeppelin shirt on and pulled it over white heat and muscle. “Bumped. Bumped in the chest. By a little rocket. You’re exaggerating.” He picked up the drink and tossed the rest of it back. He eyed her, with the glass in her hand. He could just hear Pepper shouting at him about the legal team.
The blue light fascinated Mary Jane, drew her eyes to it like a magnet, and it was immediately apparent to her that the glow of his chest was more important than something for the fanboys to obsess over. No, this protruded right from Mr. Stark’s chest. It was a lifeline, possibly connected to his heart. A million questions popped in her head because oh my god, who had a chance like this, but not one found its way to her lips. She found that she respected him too much to cross that line of spazzy, starry-eyed girl in front of some celebrity. MJ shot him a suspicious look. “If you say so.” Pushing the glass towards him, she smiled up at him. “I won’t tattle on you to Ms. Potts if you promise no more goddamn rockets.” And even while she suspected he would protest, the little redhead smirked, turned on her heels, and strode right out, heels clicking against the hard floor.