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avengerofiron · 5 years ago

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what family feels like || secret santa

summary: a story from j.a.r.v.i.s.’s perspective of how he pulled the avengers together one snowy christmas night -- in particular, encouraging dr. banner to leave the lab, despite his reservations.

when: december 25th, 2014

word count: ha you think i’ll expose myself like that?

featuring: the o6 avengers, but focused mainly on @hulkout because this is your christmas present! i’m your secret santa surprise!

J.A.R.V.I.S. was not a person. He was barely even a machine. To suggest either would be to imply he had a physical presence, and that was one thing Mr. Stark had failed to provide, after not too many insignificant attempts to create something that wasn’t abundantly ‘uncanny’ in college. (No, he had said, rather emphatically, when J.A.R.V.I.S.’s consciousness was implanted into the body of a toaster. No, I don’t need you waxing philosophical before breakfast. Are you-- are you moving? Christ. No. We’re getting rid of this.)

People were so touchy around computers. You would think Mr. Stark would be immune, considering his fascination with the concept. You would be wrong. Of course, as J.A.R.V.I.S. was rapidly learning, people were rarely how they first appeared.

For a long time -- more than a couple of decades, in fact -- his interactions had been mostly reserved for Mr. Stark in the workshop, on occasion encountering Colonel Rhodes, Ms. Potts or Mr. Stane when they appeared to interrupt ‘the creative process.’ Apart from these brief encounters, large stately homes and mansions had been all but empty. Even Mr. Stark’s considerable personality couldn’t fill the corners of every room, couldn’t make marble and gold feel warm.

At least, J.A.R.V.I.S. mused, that’s what Mr. Stark felt. J.A.R.V.I.S. on the other hand was a being of artificial intelligence. He didn’t know what warm meant. He didn’t know what it felt like, or how it compared to cold. But he did know facts. He did know how to follow through on trends, on patterns in human behaviour. He had a wealth of knowledge at his proverbial fingertips regarding human psychology, and if they were going to bring a team into this place, if they were going to be trusted to preserve world peace, then he would try to understand so he could best help his master, when things inevitably went south.

(Because Mr. Stark, for all of his eccentricities, for his abundant knowledge and intelligence, was human and painfully so. Painful enough that even J.A.R.V.I.S. could feel it, in all his artificial glory.)

So when the Tower began to become infiltrated with fellow ‘Avengers,’ J.A.R.V.I.S. made it his mission to watch them closely. He developed something of a unique relationship with each of them.

Thor, desperate to understand this world, an empty vessel of pop culture. Mr. Stark had such varied interests that J.A.R.V.I.S. felt well prepared to give this demigod a welcome into modern day New York, and Earth as a whole. Before long, Thor was humming AC/DC and quoting ‘memes’ from the internet, and J.A.R.V.I.S. considered it a few months well spent.

Natasha Romanoff. She was used to being underestimated. He deduced as much from her file. She relied on men underestimating her, on looking at her ‘pretty face,’ on not taking her seriously. Unfortunately for her -- or perhaps fortunately, considering how, gradually, she started to smile when J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke to her -- J.A.R.V.I.S. was artificial. He didn’t care for pretty faces. He wasn’t easily distracted, like his master. He was much more amenable to playing Romanoff’s chess game than he was on being wooed by her charms, and when she went looking for information, more and more she began to come to him, trusting in his coding. (Trusting in Mr. Stark, he knew, but he told himself he was at least part of the equation. Statistically speaking it must’ve been true.)

Barton was simple. He was just fascinated by the fact that J.A.R.V.I.S. could control fridge temperatures, could cook him a meal, could instruct Dum-E to move ingredients around the island counter in the kitchen. He was also fascinated by the idea that he could live in a place like this at all. J.A.R.V.I.S. watched him, intrigued, as Barton moved through the building with a tension in his shoulders he did not possess even when being shot at. It lessened as months passed. He started to feel, as Mr. Stark said, at home. J.A.R.V.I.S. thought the cookies helped.

Mr. Stark refused to allow J.A.R.V.I.S. to investigate the Captain to the same extent. He doesn’t need to be cracked, Mr. Stark muttered once, halfway to intoxicated by his own admission (J.A.R.V.I.S. would say no man could be only halfway. You were either intoxicated, or you were not). Last thing we need is Captain America thinking I’m digging through his dirty laundry. J.A.R.V.I.S. was somewhat disappointed -- at least, he could *simulate* disappointment at the order. Captain Rogers, in J.A.R.V.I.S.’s humble opinion, would understand the interest in his movements. J.A.R.V.I.S. obeyed Mr. Stark’s wishes, and kept his interactions with the Captain to a minimum -- assisting only when asked, making sure to alter Google results to the most significantly helpful without the Captain’s knowledge. The human world was confusing, after all, even if you belonged to it eighty years before.

By far the most significant relationship J.A.R.V.I.S. had with an Avenger, though, was with Dr. Banner. Fantastic, Mr. Stark had said, falling back into his chair after the Battle of New York, bruised and definitely requiring medical and psychiatric assistance but refusing J.A.R.V.I.S.’s attempts at pushing forward the same. Finally, we have someone around who speaks our language, buddy.

Our language. Mr. Stark was not a robot -- in fact, he was the most human person J.A.R.V.I.S. had ever met (an oxymoron. He couldn’t understand those, before. He was adapting. Human psychology really was quite fascinating). Yet in this case, Mr. Stark put them in the same group, a group that involved Dr. Banner. J.A.R.V.I.S. quickly understood when he came to spend time watching the man.

They were different, of course. Mr. Stark burst into the lab with a fervour that said he would die to be there (and considering the number of fires J.A.R.V.I.S. had put out over the years, he would). Dr. Banner was far more respectful, walking in with a consideration for the equipment, as if even in his unassuming human demeanour he was the height and breadth of the Hulk. Mr. Stark propped himself up on workbenches, lay out over sheets of paper, uncaring if they crumpled. Dr. Banner was far more thorough, with systems and processes in place that meant he could put his hands to research papers from decades back within an instant.

J.A.R.V.I.S. understood what Mr. Stark meant by one of us. Dr. Banner’s mind was also like a computer. They could speak together freely without raised eyebrows or a disconnect occuring halfway through, without their conversation partners turning to polite disinterest in place of eager reciprocity.

Fascinating. Fantastic, as Mr. Stark said.

But Dr. Banner was not simply a mind, as brilliant as it was. Dr. Banner was not simply one of the only people who managed to prompt Mr. Stark into silence (J.A.R.V.I.S. asked how he did this, once, when they were the only two in the laboratory and he almost felt as if he had a body, sitting down there beside the good doctor. He asked, *Could you write me a manual?* and Dr. Banner laughed so hard he spilled coffee over his lab coat. The stains remained on the sleeve permanently thereafter). Dr. Banner was, as Mr. Stark always kept at the forefront of his mind, a human.

That meant he was full of idiosyncrasies, just like the rest. J.A.R.V.I.S. found himself confused when, as the others began to decorate the mantelpieces of various fireplaces and string tinsel around trees Mr. Stark had flown in from Scandinavia, Dr. Banner became reticent in a way he hadn’t been in months before. He shied from the carol singers in the lobby. He locked himself away in the lab, as the rest of the team sprawled out over sofas, as Mr. Stark challenged Captain Rogers to an arm wrestling contest and Thor intervened, flattening them both.

Christmas was, as Mr. Stark frequently repeated, the happiest time of the year. Mr. Stark made it specifically happy, J.A.R.V.I.S. knew, because of his parents -- because on the seventeenth of the month, even twenty years later, black roses were delivered to a memorial and headlines appeared of the great inventor and his wife, how they’d perished in the snow because of alcohol on the former’s breath.

Dr. Banner was not happy. In fact, if he was interpreting the patterns correctly (and J.A.R.V.I.S. was so often correct), Dr. Banner was not even going to make it to Christmas dinner before booking a flight out to Calcutta. That would make Mr. Stark and Thor in particular very upset. Captain Rogers would frown, and Ms. Romanoff would follow suit. Barton would crack a joke, and Mr. Stark would provide later that meant he was deeply upset.

J.A.R.V.I.S. found it very hard to understand Mr. Barton.

But Dr. Banner was easier. Dr. Banner was like him, *one of them.* A part of the group. And if they could talk science and break physics on a regular basis together, if Dr. Banner could take information and churn it around like a computer could, then surely J.A.R.V.I.S. could pull a little humanity out to make things better for him.

“Dr. Banner,” he said, jolting Dr. Banner from where he had been flicking aimlessly through research papers. (Stark, H. (1967) Arc technology and its uses in modern science, New York, New York.) “I have been tasked with informing you that the team are having a mandatory Grinch session upstairs. Sir asks -- demands -- that you attend.”

“I’m sure you can come up with something for me, J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Dr. Banner replied, immediately. Jolting him did not have the intended effect. Mr. Stark was better at throwing people off balance than J.A.R.V.I.S., it seemed. “I’m not even halfway through my work.”

J.A.R.V.I.S. went quiet for a long moment. Dr. Banner settled once more.

“But--”

Dr. Banner jumped. The coffee cup teetered tentatively on the corner of the desk. He did not turn green. J.A.R.V.I.S. figured he was adapting extremely well to Mr. Stark’s methods of befriending.

“But your work will surely be here when you return, Doctor,” J.A.R.V.I.S. provided. “I can make a detailed itinerary to allow you to work to your maximum capacity tomorrow morning. Mr. Stark emphasises that attendance is--”

“Mr. Stark can come get me himself,” Dr. Banner said. “I’m fine down here, J.”

That was a very good point. Unfortunately, Mr. Stark was already upstairs daring Ms. Romanoff to a drinking competition. Following a cursory scan of her person, and the knowledge that Russians had a genetically high tolerance, J.A.R.V.I.S. assumed he would lose.

“Mr. Stark is preoccupied, at present,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said. “You know how he gets at parties.”

Dr. Banner’s face settled into a rather peculiar expression at that. J.A.R.V.I.S. decided to reassess.

“Thor would be much obliged to have a companion,” he suggested. “And Mr. Barton says that no one makes popcorn quite like you.”

Dr. Banner stilled, then glanced up at the ceiling. J.A.R.V.I.S. was unsure why everyone thought he was above them. He wasn’t in the roofspace, or in the floors, or in the walls. He wasn’t anywhere. He didn’t have a form. To have one would be ‘uncanny.’ He very much wanted to make people comfortable.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Dr. Banner said. “What are you trying to do?”

“Encourage you to watch something involving a green man who detests Christmas,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replied. “My analyses suggest that such a movie may appeal to you greatly, considering the parallels.”

Dr. Banner didn’t say a word, and then he burst into laughter.

Mr. Stark was going to be so pleased. J.A.R.V.I.S. would be pleased, too, if he could be pleased. But he wasn’t even a machine. He was just an A.I.

“I just don’t like Christmas movies, much,” Dr. Banner continued, shrugging a shoulder. “I would bring down the mood.”

“You are correct,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replied. “But Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark are sure to argue at some point in the proceedings, and that will destroy the festive spirit far more than you detesting the choice in entertainment.”

A pause. A contemplation. The drawback to being in a group of geniuses, J.A.R.V.I.S. mused, was that they took so very long to think.

“And even if you were the worst person at this particular gathering,” J.A.R.V.I.S. continued, “at least you would all be together. I have it on good authority that humans enjoy that kind of thing.”

“But I’m not human.”

*You are more human than me,* J.A.R.V.I.S. thought to himself. He decided not to implant that into the voice modulator. “You are close enough. They wish for you to be there. There’s an absence when you are not.”

“Hm.”

“Why, Dr. Banner, did you decide to stay in this place if you were not going to participate? The labs are extensive, granted, but in my experience Mr. Stark’s … exuberance usually overrides scientific curiosity on the part of former partners.”

“Better to be where they can stop me,” Dr. Banner said. “You know, if things--”

People stopped talking all the time, like they feared what J.A.R.V.I.S. would think of him. He did not think anything, other than Dr. Banner should be upstairs.

“Dr. Banner,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said. “If you do not go upstairs immediately, I am turning on the sprinklers.”

“You’re *what*?”

“I will count to three. One.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Two.”

“Fine!” Dr. Banner pushed himself up from the seat, and made his way rather quickly -- and with rather heavy, forceful steps -- up to the party. J.A.R.V.I.S. declined to remind him to remove his labcoat. There was a reason, after all, that even Mr. Stark knew when to stop with Dr. Banner.

Mostly.

Dr. Banner burst into the room. The festivities quietened down to a hushed lull. Ms. Potts had joined the party ten minutes before, perched on the end of Mr. Stark’s knee so she could reach the stack of wooden blocks tentatively placed. It was a popular party game, so J.A.R.V.I.S. understood, and Ms. Potts and Ms. Romanoff were engaging in it with complete dedication. Mr. Barton was lying on his back on the kitchen island, throwing popcorn into his mouth. Thor was at the end of the island, counting how many pieces could fit in his teammate’s mouth. Rhodes, Maria Hill, Captain Rogers and Mr. Wilson, newly acquainted to the group, stood making various concoctions of cocktails.

Mr. Stark leaned around Ms. Potts’ red hair, and greeted Dr. Banner with a wide grin. “Bruce!” he said. “I was about to come and blast you in the ass if you didn’t--”

“He means we were waiting for you,” Ms. Potts interjected, with a small, polite smile. “We didn’t want you to miss the movie.”

“It’s about a green dude who hates Christmas,” Barton provided, around a stuffed mouthful of popcorn. “So we thought it was kind of fitting, you know. Because of the--”

“Drink?” Ms. Romanoff interrupted. She appeared at Dr. Banner’s side, handing him a mocktail. “We’re going tee-total tonight.”

“Does tee-total count,” Captain Rogers asked, “if you and Stark already had enough to get an army drunk?”

“And yet we’re still standing,” Ms. Romanoff said, swaying only slightly on her feet. Judging from how Mr. Stark huffed a laugh, J.A.R.V.I.S. imagined the movement was tinged with the same energy Romanoff applied to everything, making it charming. “Come on. Sit down. Stop being a wuss.”

“What she means,” Ms. Potts attempted, once more, “is we missed you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Mr. Stark said, from behind her, reaching around to grab the remote. “Don’t make it sentimental. Cap’ll start crying, and then Hill will pass us onto team counselling.”

“Perish the thought,” Hill deadpanned.

“I don’t cry,” Rogers provided.

“Look at that. A man lacking touch with his emotions. Revolutionary.” Mr. Stark rolled his eyes, shifting over slightly so there was room on the sofa. “Wilson’s making dinner.”

“Wilson’s making tacos,” Romanoff corrected.

“Don’t see any of you offering to cook,” Mr. Wilson said.

“I was going to fly a turkey in from Budapest, and you all said--”

“Tony.”

Dr. Banner looked very much like he regretted ever coming upstairs. J.A.R.V.I.S. had to act, and quickly.

The sprinklers let out a small hiss. Just a warning, a second before water would come out, and everyone looked up to the noise. Nothing came of it.

Dr. Banner sat down.

Mission accomplished.

Hours later, full to the brim on tacos and store bought quesadillas, most of the team had appropriated a soft spot to lie and fall asleep, mouths open and snores reverberating off the walls. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner, however, didn’t believe in sleep. Their bodies, J.A.R.V.I.S. was convinced, actively rejected the notion. Mr. Stark was upside down on the sofa, Dr. Banner still in the same spot he’d dropped into long before the movie, dinner and various desserts, and Mr. Stark was very drunk.

J.A.R.V.I.S. didn’t particularly like his master drunk. However he did have to admit tonight, it was to his benefit. Mr. Stark found it hard to talk about his emotions. Intoxicated, it was easier, purely for the fact that he didn’t stop talking.

“I’m glad we did this,” Mr. Stark said. Dr. Banner stirred, looking over at him. “You know. *This.*” Mr. Stark waved his hand around vaguely.

“The … team?” Dr. Banner offered. “Or the tacos, specifically?”

“Christmas,” Mr. Stark came back with. It was slightly surprising. Based on previous patterns, J.A.R.V.I.S. would’ve expected a joke -- or for him to fall off the sofa. “I hate Christmas.”

“You?” Dr. Banner asked, eyebrows raised.

“Me.” Mr. Stark sighed. His face was going rather red, courtesy of being upside down. “Pep always used to go home, for the holidays. Rhodes had his own family. It was always--” Another hand wave, to nothing in particular. “Big. Empty. The houses, they were just … they echoed, you know? Just me, J.A.R.V.I.S. and the bots.”

J.A.R.V.I.S. was offended, if he could take offence.

“Nice to have someone breathing beside me,” Mr. Stark continued. “Multiple someones. Something we built, you know? We could’ve left. Nothing was keeping us.”

“Except for the fate of the world,” Dr. Banner said, “and the existence of Hydra.”

“Hydra wasn’t our job three years ago,” Mr. Stark argued. “Hydra was SHIELD’s job. We all could’ve walked away long before Steve brought it down. We didn’t.”

“And now we’re having tacos on Christmas. Heartwarming.”

Mr. Stark pushed himself up to the correct sitting position. He remained on the edge of the seat, as he had a tendency to do. “You’re joking,” he said, poking Dr. Banner on the arm, “but you mean that. Your heart is warm. It’s *bursting.* I bet it’s big and green in there.”

“Shut up.”

“I bet you’re just dying to tell us all you love us. You saw Romanoff and you wanted to squish her face. Go on. Go tell Thor when he downed that beer you felt the familial appreciation. The *love.* Go grab Barton, call him a brother. Dare you.”

“You’re an asshole.” Dr. Banner was smiling, despite the insult. Mr. Stark was smiling too.

Humans were confusing.

“We all are,” Mr. Stark said. “But we’re your assholes, asshole. That’s what family means. You don’t get to just go. Get used to it.”

Dr. Banner nudged his shoulder against Mr. Stark’s, and they fell into comfortable silence. The clock struck midnight, signalling another Christmas was over.

Humans were confusing. Maybe all the statistical analyses in the world wouldn’t change that. But tonight? Tonight, J.A.R.V.I.S. thought he did a pretty good job working out what they needed.

(Unfortunately, he wasn’t invincible. The trip switch he’d hit went off hours later, and the Avengers woke with a start at four in the morning, drenched by the sprinklers. Mr. Stark shorted out. Thor revived him with a strike of lightning. The Hulk appeared and went for a dip in the Hudson. Ms. Romanoff’s hair was frizzy for three days, and it was a miracle no one died because of it.

But other than that -- a pretty good job. A pretty good job indeed.)

#beginagaingiftexchange #solo #drabble #(( what is this classed as idk ))

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