milehighmechanic

[milehighmechanic]

OOPS! ALL ANGST! PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

when were you going to tell me the truth?

so you're telling me everything has been a lie.

i never should have trusted you.

you've done nothing but lie.

i had to make you believe me in order to get you to come.

there's nothing you can do for me now.

go! i'll fight them off! get to safety!

i'm done with this place.

we were never meant to be together.

there's nothing you can say to convince me otherwise.

i put my faith in you, and this is how you repay me?

you should have known better than to trust me.

is that all this is? a ploy? a game? is that what i am to you?

you've been playing with my heart this whole time.

was any of it real?

i'm never coming back here again.

i have a message from your father.

you were a waste of my time.

so that's it then? you're leaving?

we always knew this was a one way trip.

it's been an honor serving with you.

how long have you known?

did you ever love me? i mean really love me?

they made me a better offer.

it's not my fault you fell in love.

i need you to promise me you'll do everything in your power to fight.

what are you talking about? i'm not leaving you here!

there's nothing we can do now.

it's useless to try and fight.

i always thought there was more to you. turns out i was wrong.

you betrayed me for nothing.

you made me a promise.

it's no use. i've tried everything.

i can't believe you fell for that.

everything you've ever known is a lie.

do you want to hear what really happened?

i should have told you this a long time ago.

you're going to want to sit down for this.

i'm not sure you're ready for the honest truth.

i have a message from your mother.

get out of my house!

i'm never speaking to you again.

i'm not going to repeat myself.

i told you to never contact me again.

i warned you this would happen.

you're really good at fucking things up.

don't worry. you'll never hear from me again.

you were wrong about everything.

you already missed your chance.

i never asked for much.

i've loved you since the day we met.

i don't want you to be here when it happens.

you're such a disappointment.

i can't go on without you.

you have ruined my life!

we should run.

[milehighmechanic]

if tony were being scientific—— then yes, obviously pepper is probably still a danger. extremis was, last he checked, incredibly unstable. but there’s other facts to consider. twice now, the orange glow has faded entirely from pepper’s eyes the moment she’s seen him. that says—— something. and it’s been days. if the initial settling of extremis was going to blow her up, it would have happened by now.

“no, you’re fine. you’re good. try not to avoid injuries for now, but i’m not worried. is it uncomfortable?”

"i just want you to be safe," she says quietly. because even after everything she's been put through ---- everything that now DEFINES her, irrevocably ---- she still always puts him first. it's a burden that has ranged from absolutely impossible to now something she feels is more reciprocal, because he'd saved her, too.

"i'm not a danger to you, right? with extremis ---- it's like i can feel... something. under my skin. like an itch i can't scratch."

[milehighmechanic]

tony’s eyes widen, visibly, too slow to contain his reaction. a hitch in his breathing, because sure, he’s worked on that trauma, but the heavy conversation and the weight in alice’s words make the flash of endless stars in the corner of his eye harder to cope with.

he flinches back, trying to disguise the movement and not really succeeding, gaze stubbornly fixing to one of the kitchen cabinets as he breathes out.

“yeah?” it’s a little bit strangled.

tony desperately lets himself be distracted by considering alice, even if he’s not looking at her now. he’s pretty sure julie’s roommate does not work for NASA. he shouldn’t really be surprised that there’s more to alice than immediately apparent—— most people don’t barely bat an eye at having their apartment magically connect to a billionaire’s tower.

is it nice to know that he’s not the only one around with space-related-trauma? sure. now he’s just curious, but he’s also trying really hard not to overstep boundaries here.

“you wanna…. expand on that?” he ventures, hesitant.

alice exhales audibly. she can't seem to let enough air out of her lungs to release the tension.

"yeah."

that was a lot.

setting her coffee beside her on the counter, she opens her hands in her lap. studies her palms, her slightly curled fingers, and her white nails. then she shrugs, by way of concession as much as confession, as if to say, well, but, i mean—

"i've also been to space."

[milehighmechanic]

Studio Ghibli : Castle in the Sky … sentence starters

“Sorry, mom.”

“I’m in love with you.“

“The man has gone crazy.“

“I’m after treasure. That’s all.“

“Hold your tongue, commoner.”

“I’d really prefer to be in the car!”

“You and I will die here, together.“

“Time’s up. What is your answer?“

“We protected it, so it protects us.“

“What’s come over you, my dear?“

“Are you planning on fighting me?“

“Gotta start talkin’ like a real pirate.“

“Get out. Get out, or I’ll throw you out.“

“I really don’t know anything. Please…”

“Then why? Why don’t you just take it?“

“He said Mom was ugly, now go get him!”

“Leave it to my little idiots to start a riot…”

“You really are being very silly about this.“

“That tree’s gettin’ away with our treasure!“

“I thought you said you had a stomachache.“

“Run away before he kills you as well as me!”

“Tell me the spell. What are the secret words?“

“With our limited technology, we have no idea.“

“I’m not runnin’ a luxury cruise. Now get to work.“

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you all right? Does it hurt much?“

“They offered you money, and you took it, didn’t you?“

“There’s nothing worse than having your pigtails shot off.“

“Stop with the cryin’, ya big baby. I’ll get you another ship.“

“How appropriate that we’ve ended up in the throne room.“

“You think I’m doing this for money? You understand NOTHING.“

“Hey, if my head was any harder, you could use it as a cannonball.“

“You see, a king without compassion does not deserve a kingdom.“

“Well, that’s kind of you. Will you hand me those plates over there?“

“This is no longer a throne room. This is a tomb… for the both of us.“

“With the way you fell from the sky, I thought you might be an angel or something.“

“Work, work, work. Busy, busy, busy, busy. Left, right, left, right. You’re not here to have fun.”

“No matter how many weapons you have, no matter how great your technology might be, the world cannot live without love.”

[milehighmechanic]

things you forgot to say.

a meme a can't find, featuring @milehighmechanic with a boat load of angst.

there is nothing of her life here, nothing from the live that she remembers living. there are echos, and might have beens, but the life she lived and remembers is nowhere to be found. she sees her teammates, her friends, and natasha knows them intimately. she knows their futures and the love they hold.

she looks at tony and sees a what she can't have, and she sees pepper and only sees how lucky she is to be loved by tony. there is no jealousy, no envy, because natasha truly knows what it's like to be loved by tony. it hurts, of course it fucking hurts, but pepper is lucky to be loved by him.

that constant ache in her chest hasn't dulled after the engagement, and when natasha recieved the invitation to the wedding, she'd declined the invite. pepper had saught her out after, of course they'd spoke about it. both women with tear filled eye, loving different versions of the same man. pepper hadn't resented her either, and maybe it's only build a stronger friendship between both women.

and now she's in the kitchen, intentionally avoiding the digital clock on the stove, on the microwave, the one hanging on the wall just by the door. natasha needs to do something with her hands after spending the first half of the day in the gym. she's cooking, anything and everything that she can, except for his favorites.

by the time the ceremony is over, and the wedding reception is well on it's way, the kitchen is a mess but she still hasn't stopped. she's moved on from entrees to desserts, and as the cupcakes bake, she finally breaks down. on the floor, with her arms around raised knees and her back against the kitchen island.

marriage hadn't been in the cards between her and tony. she'd a spy and he's a superhero, she can't even give him a family. she cries into the bends of her knee, clutching them to her. there would have been no legacy for him to pass down, it would have only always been them against the world. after their conversation about kids during ultron, when she was shaken to the core from a memory, marriage never really came up. they were happy with the way things were.

but god, she loves him enough that if he'd wanted to get married, she would have said yes.

and if she ever makes it home, back to him, it’s with the knowledge that he has the possibility of marriage in his future. that there is a possibility of children for him that she can’t ever give him. if she’d stayed away after zemo and the accords, he could have moved on and opened himself up to the life and possibilities that this tony is experiencing now. had she been selfish to go back to him when he could have had a family?

natasha continues to cry into her knees while the cupcakes burn.

[milehighmechanic]

Third flute.

Tony doesn't react --- though only years of playing games with the press and a good poker face save him. His gaze does flicker towards Teodor more closely, and lets a grin slide pass his lips at the girlfriend comment.

Julie never reacts well when Tony meets her friends, whether accidental or on purpose, and in spite of what she thinks, he does try to respect that. They're her friends, not his, and if she doesn't want him involved in those parts of her life---- he gets it.

It's pushing it just to be here tonight, honestly.

"I don't know that I know enough about this kind of music to judge... but yeah, I'd say so."

“So do I. Third flute. Not a girlfriend,” he adds, because although Tony did already mention his own girlfriend, reputation is something Odysseus understands. Intimately. “A friend, though.”

A minor untruth, given that he still knows very little about Julie, but he has taken on the challenge of melting the ice wall. (And then… ??? Profit???) He knows Julie would almost certainly not thank him for pointing her out.

“Well, are they any good?” This being what he asked her when they met, and she said no, but she was. Performers: liars and thieves, all.

[milehighmechanic]

tony said: “Did… did I make you cry? Sorry. I’m sorry.” [x]

@glacierfront

"Oh my God," she warbles, and laughs, and turns away in a futile attempt to stop the waterworks. "You're apologizing too? What the fuck? Shut--" Swiping at her eyes doesn't stop the fucking rivers threatening the riverbanks. The fuck is going on! "Who the fuck are you? Shut the fuck up and start being mean or I'm." Another laugh. Everything is unraveling! "I'm gonna lose it, man--"

Tony stands there, helplessly. Uselessly. Clearly, he keeps saying the wrong thing, so he kinda thinks his best idea is to shut up and maybe just leave; but how is he supposed to just leave when she's crying her eyes out?

Well, if she wants him to be an asshole...

"You're gonna lose it? What, it can get worse than this?"

[milehighmechanic]

Tony’s not exactly a stranger to unhealthy coping mechanisms. Alcohol, self-destructive binges, pushing all his friends away. Isolating himself. He’s been there, done that. Peter’s tone is so reasonable that what he says doesn’t feel like a massive red flag, but Tony’s not so sure.

He gets it, though.

After all, it’s really starting to feel like he’s being haunted by Peter Parker right now. He’s too old, sure, and he doesn’t look the same as his Peter, not exactly, but the way he flops onto the chair. The way he looks up at Tony.

If Tony wakes up tomorrow and this is all a dream….

It’s clearly not the question Peter was intending on asking, but Tony shrugs and doesn’t push. He kinda wants to push, even though he doesn’t know this kid, not really. Something holds him back, as always——- he’d never pushed his Peter either, never talked to him enough, or when he did talk to him, he said the wrong thing.

So he just shrugs. “Sure. Is that an alcoholic drink you’re after, or are you just thirsty?”

Tony doesn’t drink much these days, but he’s not completely sober and the bar is still across the room.

“You hungry? When was the last time you ate?” It’s been a long time since he was last mother-henning his team. But is a parent now, so. This is the Tony Stark you’re getting, Peter.

The temptation of the chair finally breaks him, and Peter lets himself fall gracelessly--bonelessly--into it, only for him to immediately begin to shift restlessly about in between its arms. The position he finally finds himself in is comfortable to him, but certainly wouldn't be to most. He hopes the way he's draped himself like a loose sack of rice is not distracting. Or disrespectful somehow.

But he's tired. And he thinks Tony would understand; thinks Tony might be one of the only people who can really, truly understand this level of tired, and how it can sneak up on you so quick.

"It's what they do," Peter tells Tony matter of factly, referring back to the ghosts of the past. "I think I'd miss them though. If they weren't haunting me."

Even when it hurts. Even when it hurts to close his eyes and see their faces; to get a whiff of a signature cologne on the wind as he swings low to the streets; to hear a voice that sounds just a little too familiar in a crowded subway car. Even when it hurts, he is glad for it.

Peter Parker is terrified, beyond belief, of what it means to stop being haunted.

He doesn't remember what his parents sounded like. He can't picture them in his mind anymore without a photograph to refresh his memory. He thinks he remembers that his mother used to wear a vanilla scented perfume, or maybe the vanilla he'd associated with his parents came from his father's coffee creamer. Or-- homemade cookies?

It's all so painfully vague. And he can't stand the thought of more of his precious ghosts fading like this. But maybe Tony would prefer for his ghosts to fade. Peter can't say he understands that, but he can respect it.

"I hate to ask, but--" He inhales. Sharp. Then lets the breath out slowly, listening to it hiss softly through his teeth. Mind changed, he reroutes. "Could I get something to drink?"

[milehighmechanic]

Even before he worked with SHIELD, Tony spent years working with the military, in and out of facilities and bases, onboard ships and aircraft carriers. In spite of those years of familiarity, it hadn’t exactly been a place he’d felt comfortable. This ship, for all its strangeness and newness, the sheer fact that it is a goddamn SPACESHIP—— Tony already feels more comfortable here.

That worries him, a little.

Fortunately, walking into a lab is more than enough of a distraction. Unlike at SHIELD, here there are no suspicious glances when Tony saunters forwards to inspect the displays.

“The debris is most likely chitauri; from my universe but not my region of space.”

Seems like they’re back to where Tony was a few days ago, analysing background radiation. This would be much easier if Bruce was here, but—- well, there’s no point wishing for the impossible. At least he’s not on a time crunch here.

He brushes a finger over the controls, slowly figuring it out, and bringing up radiation specs.

“So, as you know, when I first flew through the wormhole it was above New York. The area of space I ended up in was a totally unfamiliar starfield, but it was still definitely our—- my own universe. It was only when I fell back through the wormhole that I ended up in your universe. Given that prior to that moment, the chitauri had definitely been flying through from there to New York, I figure the radiation from the nuke I redirected probably caused interference with the wormhole. The tesseract that powered the wormhole definitely had radioactive properties, mostly gamma radiation. Obviously that’s not how it created the wormhole, but it could explain the interference.”

IF SPOCK IS AT ALL PLEASED in having discovered a formidable mind in the subject of science, he is careful not to display such a charismatic emotional response. Turning toward the doors, he merely dips one shoulder, a physical gesture of satisfaction given Stark’s enthusiasm and nothing more.

“ Indeed. ” He encourages, contemplating their next destination as he passes a familiar ensign from tactical.

—though, the short, if wordless encounter gives him thought, finding himself ruminating on comparisons that he cannot help — nor means to — imply.

It is true that many of the individuals aboard this vessel are well qualified to be a member of this crew. They are undoubtedly intelligent, curious, and quick to garner solutions; many of them stolen into Spock’s staff.

It is as it should be, he knows. The Enterprise is a ship without peer, offering them — Spock included — unparalleled opportunities and the chance to excel, perform their duty, gain experience and learning.

It is, he would say, an exceptional tool.

However, Spock’s current experience �� despite their barrier of time — is unique. Stark seems to treat the ship and his presence among them as something intrinsically more than that. Never having provided energy to fate, perhaps Stark’s arrival is an exception, born to the wrong history — out of time — and yet here, is where the man comes to nonetheless.

                                        “ Considering your background, I believe your insight would be appreciated. ” Entering in his access code, Spock stands back to allow view of the instruments laid throughout the room. A piece of metal sits suspended between two dials, its output monitored on a screen nearby, “ We have been analyzing the debris from when you were discovered. ”

[milehighmechanic]

rushman is already showing herself to be less of a ditzy party girl than she usually plays in public interviews—— the quip about environmentalists is business savvy, and it’s also clear she’s put a lot of thought into the competition that online translation software is going to bring in. there’s an implication there too that she cares about her employees—— about keeping them employed, about decreasing travel requirements…. it’s painting a different picture of her character already.

but that’s nothing they weren’t expecting. they already know she’s definitely smarter than she seems. it’s her loyalties and her intentions that are in question. but tony can’t exactly expect to find every answer within half an hour of meeting her. as much as he would like to.

he follows her into the elevator, trying to pay full attention to what she’s saying about calendars and working hours. god, this is why people hate office jobs, isn’t it?

“mm, suits me fine. i’ve definitely been called a workaholic before.”

as if pepper isn’t a workaholic herself.

tony nods along though. “do you want me staying at the office, or do you want me to be wherever you are?” following her around obviously would give him more insight into what she’s doing and who she’s meeting, but on the other hand, if he’s in the office and she’s not here, he’s got more freedom to investigate the company. a win-win situation, really, if you ignore the situation becoming lose-lose the second his cover gets blown.

which isn’t gonna happen. tony is nothing if not committed to his job.

she notes the grin, the easy confidence in developing a program to stay ahead. the problem is that she doesn't really want a program associated with her business. consider her old fashion if you want, but the personal touch is what makes getting intel so much easier.

never mind that google translate isn't even a hundred percent accurate, especially when considered regional dialects and slang. she doesn't want her current employees to lose their jobs just because going digital is easier.

"i was thinking a video styled translation system. it will decrease the need for my staff to travel," a quick grin is shot his way, "and the lowered carbon emissions will earn me the favor of environmentalists."

clearly, she's thought this through, and while natalia has ideas for the system, and basic knowledge of program design, she doesn't know enough how to build the program she wants from the ground up. but he's still new and while she'd been impressed by his resume, she doesn't trust him enough yet. for now, he'll manage her calendar, and she'll bounce basic ideas off of him regarding the program, and lean more heavily towards to vapid CEO.

"but right now, we're going to get you settled. you'll have your own office right outside of mine, and we'll sync up calendars before the end of the day and review expectations." she presses the button to the elevator, and faces him as she waits.

"i show up at the office because i have to, but i hate being here. i prefer to work from home and i don't keep the normal 8-5 business hours. i don't expect you to mirror my schedule, but i do expect you to be available during those hours, and there is a pay adjustment outside of those hours if you decide to be available."

[milehighmechanic]

scott lang is a completely unfamiliar name, even with the added bonuses of a degree in engineering and a criminal record. it’s not like tony’s ever been any good with names—— even if he was supposed to know who the guy was, it’s not likely he would remember the name. still, he makes a mental note of it now.

he’s committing almost every word she says to memory, at this point.

“i’d like to point out that cap was nearly court-martialled multiple times during the war.” it’s not the point and they both know it. natasha had been what the red room had made her, until clint had come along and shown her she could be something more. but she had blood on her hands.

tony knew something about blood on his hands. it was one of the few things they had always understood about each other, even before they’d been friends. he still can’t imagine falling in love with her, but maybe that goes a little way to explaining how it happened. that deeper understanding about second chances that they both share.

“definitely something if said former criminal became the leader of the avengers,” he adds, doing his best to match her lighthearted tone. it’s not easy right now to be lighthearted about any of this.

she wants to go home, she wants to be with tony. her tony. natalia had died with the intention of never coming back, but because of whatever magic or science she encountered, she was sent to the wrong universe after death. she's here, and some other version of her is likely with her tony.

another version of her could have woken up next to him that morning.

her stomach twists with the thought, and she can't name the emotion that sours her stomach. oh fuck, she's going to be sick. is she jealous of another version of herself?

her body tenses at the promise, but she keeps her attention on the traffic from the windshield. it's enough to ease the sudden nausea, but doesn't alleviate the heartache. he sounds like her tony, and it's not just the promise he's making. the inflection of the words, the order of them, a promise he shouldn't be making. he's tony, but he's not hers.

"scott lang helped. he has a master's degree in engineering. we'll need to get in touch with him. he might still be in prison, though." a pause, and then she shrugs, attempting for careless. "the avengers never really had standards regarding criminal records."

she drums her fingers on her leg and when braces herself, she turns her head to study his profile. natalia has to make this normal, has to dull the awkwardness between them. "although, there is something to be said about being their first former criminal."

[milehighmechanic]

It takes a long time for Tony to get a response. He's not even sure he's going to get one at all, for a moment he's not even sure this guy can speak english at all. He seems to understand what Tony's saying, but he's not saying anything and he's not really looking at Tony. And that's not a problem as such, Tony's definitely good enough at talking for five people, but it's more that he doesn't know if he SHOULD keep talking or if he should just leave the other guy in peace---

He can talk. Thank god.

It's not fine. Tony's expression twists, more in anger than in sympathy. ( Tony's a rich little white boy, he has no idea what it's like, but he's been here, on this side of it before. His best friend is black, after all. ) Injustice that makes his heart burn. ( Tony Stark wants to change the world. ) "It sucks, that people are shits like that" he says, plainly, clearly not accepting the guy's assertion, and opening his mouth to reject the apology----

Thanks, he says, and Tony shrugs and nods. He doesn't want the thanks, probably doesn't deserve it, he feels like he can already hear his father scolding him for causing a scene. Probably there would have been better, less dangerous ways to help. But Tony did what he could.

What else was he supposed to do, anyway? Walk away?

He thinks that might be it, that that's all he's gonna get from this guy and they're gonna go back to their lives like this never happened, but then he gives Tony his name and Tony's grin cracks through his angry expression, a bright, beaming thing.

"It's nice to meet you, Efren." His hand twitches again in his pocket, another aborted attempt to offer a handshake, and he shakes his head at himself.

"Come on, let me go and buy your stuff again, yeah? I'm sure I owe you that much." 

The toothpaste he’d put into his basket would be nice to have, and so would the little travel sized bottle of pain reliever. But honestly, Efren’s not thinking about either of those, or any of the other items he’d been keen enough to buy to come all the way out of the swamp for. He just wants to go home.

And he doesn’t verbally respond when Tony asks him about them. He just shakes his head a little, rooting himself to the hot, rough sensation of the pavement under his palms.

Under the microscope again, with the sunlight highlighting all his vivid greens and golds for the stranger–and anyone else who might happen to pass by–to see, Efren doesn’t really want to speak. Even if the ability to do so is slowly coming back to him as his tremors begin to fade.

“Yes.” It comes out coarse and clipped, and he keeps his elliptical pupils aimed down at a tenacious little dandelion that’s pushing its way up out of the concrete, blooming in the face of its adversity in a way he doubts he ever will. “Often.”

It’s still better than Blackwell’s. At least no one is earning their wealth on the back of his suffering anymore.

“It’s fine.”

It’s not.

He hazards another glance at the boy squinting against the sun as he looks up at him. Seeing no malice–curiosity definitely, but no intent to harm him–Efren sighs like a much older man. Then pushes himself back up to his feet.

“Sorry for–” He’s not sure why he’s apologizing. He’d done nothing wrong. The kid had jumped in of his own reckless accord; Efren hadn’t asked him or anyone else to butt in. He owes him his gratitude, not an apology. “Thanks, Tony.”

A pause. Deep consideration; deliberation. But ultimately, it makes no difference whether or not he gives Tony his real name, a fake, or none at all. Legally speaking, Efren Piñeda has never existed.

“Efren.”

[milehighmechanic]

There are few people in this world who know, or would even care, about Maria Stark’s passion for music. That hearing her play had been one of his favourite things, once upon a time. And she’s not Julie’s mom, but that connection is still there, somewhere. It makes this whole concert feel more emotional than it should, and it makes it difficult to give a casual answer to this stranger.

“It’s something,” he says, and the ambiguity has more meaning than any flowery compliment he could come up with. “I know one of the, uh, players,” he adds, because he can hear the unsaid question perfectly well. He pauses, considers what that sounds like, and then, because his reputation still haunts him, “don’t worry, my girlfriend knows I’m here.”

milehighmechanic​.

     Tony snorts. Wonders how Howard has managed to keep his identity secret after decades of running through Europe with that mustache. 

     “Oh thank god,” he utters, genuinely, even if he KNOWS he’s only put off the inevitable. Howard will surely ambush him later —— the guy worked SO HARD to stay hidden from Tony for twenty years, why is it so hard to avoid him now?

     But he doesn’t stand and move away from the other guy —– he has no reason to mingle with the other guests here and he’d rather keep a low profile. Teodor seems to understand that. There’s something in the way this man talks about gods that interests Tony. Or maybe he just recognises that feeling. 

     Tony hates the idea of fate, of gods, he wants to fight for a future he can create himself, but sometimes it feels like fighting the INEVITABLE. 

     “A free man. That would be a thing, huh. I’ll let you know when I find out what that feels like.”

“Maybe I’ll beat you to it.”   Though admittedly, that seems unlikely.

“It’s like they always say… ‘Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?’ ”   Odysseus shrugs—eh—as if he doesn’t think much of this joke even though he’s the one who made it.   “Or the concert, as the case may be.”

Intermission will be ending in another few minutes. He should head back to his seat, but he’s curious about what Tony Stark is doing here at all. Surprise orchestra fan?

[milehighmechanic]

the quip makes him roll his eyes. although honestly, the fact that SI didn't contract with SHIELD, when his father founded both---- what the fuck was that about? unless, of course, SHIELD had just been buying his weapons from obie under the table.

"of course it was," he agrees easily. "with carter at the helm, how could it not be? and while my dad obviously had issues, he still always wanted to change the world for the better." tony mirrors her shrug, leaning back in his seat. it's easier to talk about this, something that matters little to him, and even less when he's going to be dead before it matters to ANYONE. but it clearly matters to her. the black widow cares about SHIELD, he thinks, and that's surprising to him.

"but that was a long time ago. corruption is easy. it only takes one guy." they both know about obadiah. tony doesn't feel the need to say the man's name, haunting him as it is.

he makes a decent point, but natalia remains silent, chewing on a piece of cantaloupe. she keeps her mission reports as vague as possible, in part because she hates writing them up, but also as a fuck you to the higher-ups that have never spent a day in the field.

she understood the politics of things while she was in the red room, but SHIELD has far more required level of clearance than even them. her fingers drum on the counter, an intentional sign of thought instead of an empty habit. how blind had she been when she joined SHIELD just to avoid running her entire life?

"or maybe SI just felt left out for not being the primary weapon's contract for SHIELD," she quips, while she studies him. natalia never doubted tony's intelligence, but learning that he'd been the shadow she ran into years ago has forced her to readjust her perceptive of him. obviously with various contracts, SI has been discreet, and as much as the carefree playboy tony had allowed the public to see of him, he's kept an equal amount of secrets as his company.

"SHIELD likes to believe it's better than the other agencies," she admits after a moment and shrugs. "they provide the illusion of free choice. but i do believe it was originally funded to make a difference."

[milehighmechanic]

His expression doesn't change as Nico snaps at him; he is, of course, entirely aware of how hypocritical he's being. He never promised not to be a hypocrite. On the other hand, Tony's demigod powers have only ever really extended to being really good at building shit, and bringing life to machines that otherwise would not be alive, and that kind of power isn't the same as travelling with shadows or summoning skeletons or storms or that sort of shit. It's not draining, not in the same way. 

And he is, somehow, familiar with the attitudes of moody teenagers, so he just grins in answer to Nico's scowl and doesn't bite back. "You make it sound like I'm sentencing you. I am one hundred percent certain that one night of chilling is not the worst thing you have been through."

A scowl darts on Nico's face at the near accusation, defenses rising despite himself. "Are you?" he retorts, because he's seen some of the picture in the newspapers, and even read a couple of them himself to know what all the famous Tony Stark has been up to.

But it's not like he has much room to protest, either the bit about not resting or the fact that he needs rest in that very moment. He knows he's in no state to shadow travel, at least if he wants to make it back to Camp and not immediately fall unconscious. Will wouldn't approve of him doing that. Again.

His pride keeps him from fully admitting that though and he settles back into his chair, scowl still on his face. At least he doesn't try to shadow travel away in that moment. He's not that self-destructive anymore. "Fine." he says after a long beat.

[milehighmechanic]

“yeah, no, i get that.” it’s hard to get the words out. obviously they need to stop thanos. obviously that’s got to take priority. it’s far from the first time tony’s put his feelings or his personal relationship aside for the sake of the mission.

but somehow it’s harder to pull himself together, right now. it’s harder, because when he looks at natasha, she looks like his nat, and she talks like his nat, but she’s not. she’s NOT.

but she’s right. tony’s got to make it so that natasha doesn’t die. he’s gonna kill this thanos guy before he has the chance to kill her.

a part of him, a selfish part of him, wonders if this is worse. sure, now they’ve got the chance to stop thanos before he destroys half the universe. but if he can’t get his nat back, then he’s the one who loses, isn’t he? he’d have at least had more years with her before she dies, if this hadn’t happened.

just the thought makes him feel sick. no, he’d rather she was trapped in an alternate universe than dead. even if it means he’ll never see her again. at least she’ll be alive.

“okay, romanoff.” and there’s determination in his voice, but there’s distance there too. “tell me what i gotta do.”

she glances around the room again when he turns his back towards her, making sure not to look at the bed. god, this is so weird. a version of her had fallen in love with him, trusted him enough to share space with him. her fingers pinch the hem of the band t-shirt she's wearing, it's soft over old, so obviously his. while she's notorious for stealing shirts and sweaters from her friends, using it as a sleeping shirt was a bit unsettling.

this room is very clearly lived in by the both of them, and she can't help but wonder if she had an apartment in the city, or at least a room at the tower. she can't stay here with him, even if tony has a guest room. it's too awkward to stay here with him when he loves a version of her that she isn't.

she lets go of his shirt and refocuses her attention on him. at least she woke up dressed, the thought occurs without cause, and she has to focus on his question. despite having pulled on a pair of pants a moment after she woke up, standing in the bedroom still leaves her feeling exposed.

"i don't know," she answers, honestly. "but while we figure that out, we need stop thanos. that should be our priority. i'm sorry, i know you probably want your natasha back first, but if we can stop thanos, she might not end up having to die."

[milehighmechanic]

"Yeah," Tony answers, expression inscrutable. Eyes hard. "Ultron. It's not just New York, Carol. Most of the world looks like this now." Ultron's subjugation of the entire world has been slow, but inexorable. Inevitable. There are pockets of resistance everywhere, of course, but Tony knows those pockets have been diminishing for years now. 

Carol's frown doesn't escape his attention. It doesn't surprise him. The Carol he'd known had never been one to run from a fight either. None of them had been. But in the end, only those of them who had run had survived. But he doesn't bother saying anything. Maybe he should, but he doesn't think the argument is worth it, right now. She doesn't understand how powerful Ultron is, but hopefully, Tony thinks, she won't need to. If this isn't her universe, it's not her problem. It would be better for her if she doesn't stay longer than she needs to.

He's missed her, though.

Tony winces as Carol shoves him against the wall, joints jarring as he collides with the metal. Ow. But he at least keeps his head enough to stay silent, not speaking a word until Carol does.

He shrugs. "There's certainly not gonna be a shortage of 'bots around here, but until he notices my escape, I doubt Ultron's gonna really expects much resistance. This lot's probably more for show than anything else. Last I heard, his main taskforce was in Asia."

“I got a way out,” Carol says with a firm nod, she’ll fly him up to the vent shaft if she needs to. Though she frowns at the notion of running. She hasn’t run from a fight in ages. She doesn’t need to. Despite her misgivings about his advice, she decides it’s not worth debating. 

“Ultron,” she states, recalling the name from the Avengers’ files. “Is he why the city looks…”

Like a chrome nightmare?

“Different?”

She’s never fought him, the Avengers defeated him in her timeline. She wonders if that would bring any sort of hope to Stark, or if it’d simply serve as salt in the wound. Carol decides then to keep the thought to herself. Last thing she wants to do is make this whole experience more uncomfortable.

Though she’s not sure if that’s the word she’s looking for, she moves past the thought. She pushes the door open quietly, peeking out to ensure no evil robot was on its way. When the coast was clear, she motions for Stark to follow. Slinking down the forebodingly still hall. Bright side, the quiet of the place makes the heavy footsteps approaching easier to hear.

Carol ducks to the left, behind a metal jut-out, and pushes Stark against the wall so he’s out of sight as well. She waits until the machines march by, thankful they didn’t check the room Stark should be in. When they vanish out of sight, she glances at him.

“How many sentries are there?”