— i. Mean Girl | How to Parent
synopsis: your new routine at stark mansion is nothing less then annoying, and tony makes sure that today is no different
warnings: not proofread, obadiah stane makes an appearance, mentions of cancer and hospitals, my interpretation of what it was like being a teenager in 2008, kinda rushed tbh
a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS and thank you all for waiting, ik this chapter is long overdue. tbh i'm vry surprised (and taken aback) that so many of u guys wanted to read this so i've tried to taken my time with all the planning of the story and it's details. the first few episodes are going to set the stage of it all before we get into it. like i said before, we'll be starting off with IM1. if some of u guys want, i can share the current cannon timeline after each era/movie so everyone knows what's up. anyways, enjoy :)
word count: 6.2k
masterlist || next part
tony stark x daughter!reader
[gif from pinterest]
The sound of AC/DC blaring through the workshop speakers traveled though the glass doors, up the stairs, into the living room, and up to the second floor. The words to Shook Me All Night Long could be heard over the overpowering heavy metal guitar and drums being played, as well as the faint sound of someone attempting to sing along to Brain Johnson’s voice, but instead of it harmonizing it comes out off pitch and grating.
‘Taking more than her share, had me fighting for air. She told me to come, but I was already there.’
The song played all throughout the house and begrudgingly, you swung the door to your room open, half asleep and hair unkept. You stomp down the stairs in your pajamas whilst rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, trying not to trip over your own feet and eat shit so early in the morning. By now this was routine. Waking up to the sound of some heavy metal band– mostly AC/DC or Black Sabbath– blaring throughout the house early in the morning and then stomping down to the workshop to turn it off and to chew out the man-child that was responsible for, once again, disturbing your sleep.
You scanned your thumb against the biometric scanner, granting you access to the workshop and when the doors swing open, the noise somehow gets four times louder than before, assaulting your ears. His back’s turned towards the door, working away on an old antique car– a 1932 Ford Flathead– from what you could tell. Its engine cover’s off and there’s a cart with tools next to him and Dummy on the other side of the cart, ‘helping’ in handing or holding whatever tool was necessary. The machine gives you a mechanical wave when you cross the room towards the countertop by the right side of the room and switch off the loud speaker.
The music cuts immediately and you turn to go back to your room now that your job is done. However, Tony turns around with a grin, already expecting you to come huffing and puffing in, and sometimes you have to wonder if this was something he’d planned from the jump.
“Good morning, sourpuss, love what you’re doing with the hair. Is this what the kids are into these days?.” He sets down whatever tool is in hand and wipes his hands with the towel he’d thrown over his shoulder.
You scowled over your shoulder. “Go to work. Be a productive member of society, or something. Stop terrorizing me first thing in the morning.” You slammed the door to the workshop behind you and climbed up the stairs, coming across Pepper who’d just arrived, and then further up to your room while throwing a glare over your shoulder towards the annoyingly loud mini-waterfall staircase centerpiece. You shut the door and collapse face down onto your bed with a loud groan.
Who the fuck thinks that a mini-waterfall is ‘home decor’? Oh, right. Tony Stark does.
God, this was exhausting.
He was exhausting.
The sheets rustle as you turn over to lay onto your back, staring up through the circular glass skyline window and out into the clear California open sky. You used to wonder how you ended up here– in Tony Stark’s mansion perched on top of Malibu's cliffside, overlooking the Pacific Ocean– but you know exactly how and why.
In April of last year your mother had been told she had stage four cancer, and around New Years she called the only person she knew that would be able to take care of you, your father: Tony Stark.
–
She sat by the lit fireplace, staring off into the flames. The home was warm and glowing with that mix of Christmas and New Years glow. You were sound asleep upstairs in your bed after having Christmas leftovers for the past two days. The tree glows a golden tinted green, orange, and red, giving off that feel-good vibe and warmth that you’d get whenever you would see incandescent lights. But that warm feeling wasn’t here right now, not as she was withering away with her baby girl sleeping upstairs.
The words still echoed in her mind.
“Stage four”, “too late”, “end stage treatment”, “not enough time.”
She knew this was a possibility, it was simple genetics and the fact that it had spread so quickly compared to a couple months back. This was it for her, but she wasn’t going to let it be the end for you.
With steady hands, she reaches over to the home landline and punches in the all too familiar number– the same number she hadn’t dared to utter in the past fifteen years. Much to her surprise, the number isn’t disconnected, no, it works. It works so well that he picks it up.
“Hello?”
His voice is the same but different at the same time. It’s older, more mature, but it still held the playfulness that she’d loved so long ago.
“Hello?” He asks again.
She tries to find the words that are stuck in her throat, to utter the name she used to call so fondly, but she hesitates. He grumbles on the other side of the other line, something about how he was hanging up and that’s all she needs.
“Tony.”
He stops mid sentence. He knows who this is. He says her name as if he’s never stopped saying it, still full of the love and fondness he had for her all those years ago.
“Tony..” she’s holding back a sob so that she doesn’t wake you up.
“Hey, hey,” he immediately sounds concerned and there’s rustling on the other end of the phone. “What’s going on?”
Her hand comes up to cover her mouth and she takes in a deep breath through her nose before she lets it all out after months of holding it together. Everything from the original diagnosis to the failed treatments to now, the impending end of her life. But most importantly, she tells him about you.
“She’s so much like you,” she laughs between the tears and pain from the chemo's effect on her body and the pain in her heart. “God, it’s almost like you cloned yourself. I see less of me in her and more of you, even though I raised her. She’s so smart, and so gifted, she graduated early– thirteen and she’s already gotten so many offers from so many Universities," Tony tries to speak between her rambling– not that he didn’t mind hearing about his daughter for the first time in fifteen years, but he had to get her to stop so that he could make some sense of things, “God, Tony, I can’t let her go through this, I can’t. It’ll break her– she’s already trying to hold on for me, but I can see it– she won’t make it out of this– you have to get her– take her– please, she’ll fall apart and lose herself, and I can’t let that happen,” tears steam down her face, “don’t let her watch me die, you have to take her away from this– from me, help me Tony please–”
“Okay.”
“What?” she whispered.
Tony struggles to sound calm and steady, “okay. I’ll do it. I, uh, I’ll figure things out and call you tomorrow okay? You’re in San Francisco, right, I’ll be there by tomorrow. I’ll take care of it all, sweetheart.”
The next twelve hours were a blur for Tony.
His heart raced and his mind spun in circles. Fifteen years he’d lived his life, shoving away his old one– partying, drinking, indulging in women, and debauchery– not once did he look back despite that voice in the back of his head telling him too. He’d done whatever he wanted and whoever he wanted with no one to look back on– no girlfriend or wife and no children (that he acknowledged at least). So why did he agree to take you?
You, who he had pretended never existed, casting you away even before he could see your first ultrasound or hear your heartbeat. You, who would creep up into his mind whenever he worked away on his projects in the workshop, wondering if you’d taken his love for machinery and engineering or if you were more into art like your mom. The you who he never gave a chance to love and raise like he sound have.
Truthfully, Tony didn’t know why he agreed. Nearly every part of his brain told him that it was a bad idea. He should just do what he’s always done: look away, and if he couldn’t then he could just throw tons of money your way and be done with it. But he couldn’t. He doesn’t know why, but he couldn’t.
He moved your mother to City of Hope Helford Hospital, putting in a good word (and a hefty donation) towards their cancer research and treatment departments, and he took you to his home mansion in Malibu. You’d protested, stomped your feet, glared daggers at him, gave him sarcastic responses that made him feel some type of way deep down. How can you be so alike with fifteen years worth of distance?
Eventually, you had “agreed” to going with him with the stipulations that you could visit your mom at the treatment center as much as you wanted.
The car came to a smooth stop in front of the custom built Malibu Mansion. Happy, who from what you could understand was Tony’s driver and personal security and personal assistant, opened the door for you and then unloaded your two suitcases from the trunk of the luxury sedan.
The place was huge, bigger than you could have imagined and from what was described in magazines and editorials. Tall floor to ceiling glass windows accented the second floor. The lights around the culdesac driveway were warm and gave the area a warm glow. The sun set behind the mansion, taking its warmth with it while leaving behind the cool air, reminding you that California was literally just a glorified desert.
“This is what you call a ‘house’?” You turned to Tony, who stood there, hands in his blazer pockets, nonchalant. “It’s literally a mansion.”
And thus started your stay at Stark Mansion.
–
Sleep had left you the moment you heard Brian Johnson’s voice singing aloud from the workshop/garage, leaving you now fully awake. Thankfully, he hadn’t turned the music back on allowing some peace and quiet to flow through the enormous mansion. You rolled your head to the right, glancing down at the alarm clock on your nightstand. 9:45am. Too early to deal with your “dad’s” bullshit. But you must.
With a light groan, you get up and head towards your bathroom that was the same size as your room in your house in San Francisco. A quick morning routine and a hot shower later, you turned to your walk-in closest– that was also the size of a New York apartment– and got dressed, a simple denim jeans and a yellow babydoll top combo, and then did your makeup, mascara, matte powder foundation, and pink lip balm.
Surprisingly, the rest of the mansion was quiet. Pepper was nowhere to be seen and neither was Happy. You walked past the main sitting area and then into the kitchen where sure enough, Tony was busy… making breakfast? His back is turned towards you, and a red and cream checkered patterned dish rag is slung over his left shoulder.
“What are you doing?” You asked, cautiously.
“Making the most important meal of the day.” The microwave beeps and he quickly takes out the plate. He muttered under his breath, eyeing the plate with his own suspicion. Thinking that it was good enough, he saunters over to the dining table and places it down, motioning for you to sit down and dig into his five star meal that could rival Gordan Ramsey’s Beef Wellington.
You, however, stay standing, glaring suspiciously at the light yellow substance. Did he just reheat an omelet in the microwave?
“You don’t eat with your eyes, you eat with your mouth,” Tony places down a fork and bottle of ketchup.
You carefully peel your eyes away from the ‘omelet’, afraid it would come to life and vanish if you looked away, and turned towards Tony. “You’re crazy if you think I’m ingesting that. At best I’ll get salmonella, at worst it’ll become a sentient being and kill me in my sleep.”
“Wow,” Tony places his hands on his hips, amazed. “You have some imagination.” He motions towards the omelet again, “eat, or you won’t be fed for the rest of the day.” He turns around and walks to the refrigerator, leaving you to silently take a seat. You pour some ketchup on the side of the plate and reach for the fork. You carefully cut off a piece of the omelet and dab it into the ketchup and bring it to your mouth.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t that bad. A little heavy handed with the black pepper, but overall not that bad. Despite reheating it, it was still cold in the middle– like all things warmed in a microwave– but you could deal with it.
“See, it’s delicious.”
“A broken clock can be right twice a day. It’s cold in the middle.”
Tony placed a glass of orange juice in front of you while you ate the omelet, a smirk on his face. You huffed and glanced at the orange juice. “I guess you can’t be right at all,” you point towards the glass, “I hate orange juice.”
Your last jab takes away his cockiness. He seems to make a mental note and reaches for the orange juice and downs the entire glass whilst making slurping and heavy breathing sounds, as if he was a kid who’d just came in from recess panting and finally had his turn at the water fountain.
You cringe and lean away from him in disgust, “you’re gross.”
Tony snorts and walks over to place the glass in the sink, but pauses with a new thought. “Don’t you have school?”
“No,” You said, eating up the warmed part of the omelet and leaving the cold center alone. “I graduated high school at 13.”
“I know that. I’m talking about university. You had a full ride to Berkeley.” You side-eyed him from your seat. How did he know that? "I had JARVIS look into it.” He quickly adds for clarification.
You paused before answering, looking away from him as if you couldn’t look at him anymore. “I didn’t go. Mom got sick in April and by June she wasn’t looking any better so I declined and stayed home. I couldn’t leave her alone. She needs me.”
Surprisingly, Tony drops it easily, sensing how much of a touchy subject it was for you. He wipes his hands off with the kitchen towel for a final time. Alright, we’re going out.”
“No thanks, knowing you it’s probably no good.” You walk past hi
m and wash off your dishes before placing them in the dishwasher.
“We’re going to Stark Industries.”
–
You sat back in Tony’s Maserati GranTurismo, a sleek silver luxury sports car with reddish-brown interior leather seats. You’d refreshed your hair and make up and changed out of your clothes and into a designer Gucci dress and a pair of wedged heels that Pepper had brought over on Tony’s behest. Guess, he really wanted to make sure you looked like a ‘Stark’. Tony drove the car and Happy sat next to him in the front passenger seat while Pepper sat to your right in the back.
The drive to company headquarters was surprisingly not long, just barely making the forty minute mark considering LA traffic. The car smoothly drives around the streets of Los Angeles before coming to a stop in front of Stark Industries located in Long Beach. Happy’s the first to get out and quickly rounds the front of the car to open Tony’s door. Tony steps out, and then Happy moves the driver's seat up to allow Pepper and I out. Tony hands the keys off to someone, a chauffeur you assume, and leads the three of you through the tall double glass doors into the huge building.
The inside of the building was a flurry of people all hurrying around from one place to another. The whole thing reminded you of a bunch of busy worker ants carrying out their assignments with efficiency and precision. The place was decorated with marble walls and floors with some polished wood as accent pieces whilst tall floor to ceiling windows let the bright California sun shine down. It reminded you of the way Tony’s mansion was built and decorated and you could tell that he had a heavy hand in constructing this place. Your eyes raked down from the top all the way down until you met Peppers blue eyes.
“So, what do you think?” She asks with a smile.
You take it in, the buzz and the noise emanating in just one small portion of the entire building. “It’s a lot and it’s just the entrance."
“Imagine the rest of the place. Come on,” she urges you to walk besides her as you two follow Tony and Happy to an empty elevator.
The doors close and Happy punches in floor number and within a second you’re there. It wasn’t as loud as it was down in the lobby. Now, a familiar office-like atmosphere had taken over, reminding you of the feeling of walking around doctor clinics and their sterile quiet. You pass a series of doors and round the corner to a row of conference rooms with large glass windows.
Black and metallic gold plaques glinted in the bright white light emanating from the lithonia lighting. Names you couldn’t recognize were written on them along with what you assured were their positions within the company. Executives, chairman, heads of departments, you ran your eyes over them as you passed them to wherever your destination was.
Tony stopped before a set of heavy wooden double doors and swung them open, stepping into the office. Pepper and Happy walked in behind him like routine while you eyed the plaque next to the entrance.
Tony Stark
Chief Executive Officer
The office was spacious and neatly decorated. A few shelves on the walls were filled with books, pictures, and either awards or little trinkets. To the left of you was a set of couches and a rectangle coffee table with a TV mounted to the wall. To your right was a mini conference-like table with swivel chairs. To the front of you was Tony’s office table where he would work (if he did any) in front of a huge floor to ceiling window that spanned the entirety of the back wall. It overlooked the rest of Stark Industries, where you assumed most of the testing and production would happen.
You walked past the table and stood close to the window trying to get a better view of the huge lot. The place took up around two blocks just littered with warehouses, office buildings, and factories. Tony stands besides you to your right, and his gaze flickers from you to the scenery outside before he goes onto a tangent about the buildings and what goes on in each one as if he were a tour guide.
“This building,” he points to the one closest to the gates. “This one's my favorite– in that building is the juice that powers all of this,” he makes a broad hand motion towards the main building and the two blocks that Stark Industries sat on. “All of it by the ARC Reactor– that the, uh–”
“Howard Stark's idea of a power source that could provide clean and renewable energy.” You said, eyes scanning the building and its surrounding area. “Though, despite his efforts, the ARC isn’t as efficient as he hoped it would be.”
The room’s silent and you turn your head to the man who’d been yapping non-stop, only to see him staring at you with what could be mistaken for pride.
“Someone’s done their research,” Happy comments from the side, a bit playful in tone.
“It’s common knowledge.” You replied.
He goes to, what you could only assume, make another joke, but is cut off when there’s a sharp knock at the door before it opens.
“Tony, that you?”
A bald man with a salt and pepper beard steps in, eyes on Tony. “Thought you said you weren’t coming in.”
“Obi! Just the man I was looking for,” Tony strides over to the bald man who instantly reaches out for him, patting Tony on the back while chuckling.
“I want you to meet someone,” Tony motions towards you. “You’ll never guess who this is.”
The man, Obi, gives you a once over while thinking over his options. He goes to make a joke (no doubt a bit crude), but stops himself once his eyes settle on your face, a flicker of irritation in his eyes that he masks away quickly.
“No,” he sounds genuinely astonished, turning his head towards Tony. “That, she’s— your kid?”
Tony just gives an arrogant smile, unaware of the twinge in Obi’s voice. The bald man starts to sputter out questions; Who? What? When? (All of which Tony indulges in) while you try not to point out Tony’s wild and very public habits when it comes to women.
Eventually, Tony pushes you to exchange formalities with the man.
Obi’s the first to offer his hand. “Obadiah Stane, I’m Tony’s friend and mentor.”
You glanced between him and his outstretched hand that was adorned with heavy designer watch and a golden pinky ring with a black stone base and a yellow diamond
centerpiece. His eyes stayed glued on you as if he was sussing out your expressions and body language, sending a shiver down your spine and settling in the bottom of your gut. Despite the smile on his face, his piercing eyes tell a different story, eerily reminding you of those mean girls from high school.
You glance down at his hand again, not wanting to touch him out of some instinctual fear, as if he’d yank your hand if you reached out. So instead you blurt out whatever came to your mind. “The number of pathogens exchanged during a handshake are staggering, nearing 10,000 to 10 million bacteria exchanged.”
The random fact is enough to knock Obadiah off guard. He stares at you before erupting into laughter, clapping Tony on the back, “she’s the spitting image of you.” His hand stays lingering on Tony’s shoulder. “So you’re showing her the family business, huh?” He turns back to you, “two generations of Starks building up an empire and now,” he motions towards you, “another follows.”
He squeezes Tony’s shoulder, taking in a breath and his eyes flicker upwards as if he was remembering something or someone. “Jeez, if only your father were here.” The mere mention of Howard is enough to make Tony visibly uncomfortable, the hair on the back of his neck going straight. “He would have loved this, hm?”
You frowned at the way Obadiah had just gotten borderline melodramatic as if he was putting on a show. All that was missing was a spotlight and a well placed tear going down his cheek that glimmered in the light just right. His behavior enacted that gut feeling in you whenever you had encountered mean girls and two-faced kids at your school who’s only interest in you was to have you do their work for them.
In the short minute that you’d been introduced to him, you’d come to a conclusion: you did not like Obadiah Stane. You couldn’t put your exact finger on it, but you know deep down that he was not a good man. Maybe he was a swindler. Maybe even a Bond villain, or he was just a mean girl. But surprisingly, Tony couldn’t see it.
You glance past the dynamic duo and to the mounted wall clock. “I have to go.”
Obadiah frowns and Tony glances down at his watch as if remembering what the date and time was. “I’ll uh, I’ll drop you off.”
You’re already moving around the table. “No, it’s fine. Happy can drive me.”
“I said I’ll drive,” Tony says again, leaving no room for arguing. He begins to say his goodbyes to Obadiah and you begrudgingly move towards the door.
Pepper gives you a smile, “I’ll see you at dinner.” You give her a small smile, grateful that you had at least one normal person around you.
You walk behind Tony as he moves through the halls and down to the main floor and outside where the same man from before hands Tony the car keys back. You move to open the back door, but Tony’s quick and opens the front passenger door for you. What a gentleman.
Without a word between you two, you get in the car and Tony drives off.
Much of the ride is quiet. Tony’s focused on driving while you’re focused on whatever's going on outside the window (ohh look, a car, woooww). He fiddles with the steering wheel while occasionally glancing at you while you pretend not to notice. Out of sight, out of mind, or however the saying goes.
Finally, the silence is broken. “Didn’t know you were a germ freak.”
“I’m not.” You answer dryly.
He frowns, connecting the dots. ”Huh. So, bald people just freak you out?” He smirks at his half attempt at a joke.
“I have nothing against the bald.”
“So just Obi.”
You turn your head towards him. His expression turned from humorous to serious as if he was suddenly mindful of what was being said. If you knew any better you’d think he was getting ready to defend his ‘ride or die’.
“You don’t see it do you? You’ve surrounded yourself with ‘yes-men’ that you can’t see what’s actually going on.”
He stops the car. “Hold on, what are you trying to say here?” He’s turned fully towards you now, hand clenching the steering wheel.
“What I’m saying is that your little mentor is a total mean girl. He’s two-faced.”
He nearly throws his hands up, exasperated. “You just met him!”
“He hates your guts.” You pressed further. “Also, why are his hands always on you?”
He shakes his head, wholeheartedly believing that you didn’t know what you were talking about. “I’ve known him for years. Obadiah was right there next to my dad— your grandfather— he’s had my back since—.”
He stopped himself before he could go any further without losing his cool. He shook his head, looking outside. You didn’t know what you were talking about. How could you? How could you know what it was like to lose your entire life with no one besides you. How could you know what it was like watching as everyone scrambled to get their hands on what his father spent his entire life building.
Only he knew. Him and Obadiah. Howard’s best friend and the man that took Tony under his wing. He kept his family’s legacy in place while Tony went off to gather his strength. To him, Obadiah was more than a friend or a mentor, he was like his father.
You glanced outside. “This is the only time I’m giving you any advice. Whether you use it is up to you.”
Without another word you grab your things and step out of the car and stand in front of the cancer treatment center. The car erupts into a roar as Tony speeds off at high speeds, leaving you there.
You don't bother to watch which direction he takes off to and instead step into the hospital entrance. By now, the front desk attendants already knew who you were and quickly checked you in. You take the elevator up to the residential wing of the treatment center, briskly walking down corridors before you’re finally at your destination. You don’t bother knocking, swinging the door open.
“Mom,” you breathe a sigh of relief as all of your annoyance and pent up anxiety washes itself away.
She smiled and called out your name. She sat next to the large window, a book in her lap and the TV softly playing, an episode of Grey's Anatomy. The sun seeped in through the window, basking her in a warm angelic light that made your throat close. The door clicks shut and in a blink of an eye you’ve crossed the room into your mothers arms. You bury your face close to her, pressing up so close that you could probably fuse yourself together.
She lets out a laugh, “you were just here yesterday.” Despite her words, she’s smiling and holding you as close as her strength would let her.
“So?” Your voice comes out muffled as your face’s pressed against her neck. You peaked your head up, “I’m hungry.”
She laughed, patting your back as if she was expecting it. “Look in the fridge.” You spring up and open the decently sized fridge to find some leftover food that she’s saved for you. You’re quick to take them out and start microwaving the dishes you wanted to eat. Once it was all reheated you set it down at the table and sat next to your mom, digging into the food.
She watched you, content, as you nearly stuffed your face. “So, anything new happen today?”
You shrugged, eating another spoonful of food. “Meh, same. Oh, he took me to show the company today.”
“He did?” She hummed, leaning over to wipe the food off your face with a napkin.
“Yeah. Decent place, but,” annoyance starts to take over, “I met this total weirdo. You probably know him– Obadiah. Says he was Howard Stark's best friend and Tony’s mentor.”
“Obi?”
You groaned, “not you too.”
“Why? Did something happen to him?”
You shook your head, “no.”
“Did you say something?” You look away and she sighs. “What did you do?”
“Nothing, just,” you shrugged, now poking and playing with your food, “gave Tony some advice.”
“On Obadiah? Honey, what did you say,”
“The truth,” you huffed. “He’s a mean girl, mom, you should have seen it. That man hates Tony’s guts, it’s so obvious.”
She shakes her head again, “no, baby, you got it wrong. I knew Obi, and trust me he cares for Tony and–”
“Mom, trust me.” Your tone noticeably shifts from annoyed to serious. “You should have seen how he looked at Tony and then me– as if he hated me.” She tries to refute, but you carry on, “I felt it in my gut when he found out who I was, like I was another burden on him, or something.”
You groaned, dropping the spoon next to the now cold plate of food, and leaned against your mom. “Just trust me, he’s not a good person.”
Eventually, she drops it knowing that it was better if she didn’t question you any further, especially wherever you had a ‘gut’ feeling. Somehow, whenever you’d gotten a ‘gut’ feeling you always end up being right. So if you said that Obadiah was a bad man, then that’s what it was.
Hours passed, and after a much needed post-meal nap next to your mom, it was time for the dreadful return to Malibu. You pouted as you grabbed your things, wishing that you could just stay there with your mom.
She held you close and kissed the top of your head as you buried your face into her neck, arms wrapped tightly against her. “I love you, sweet girl. More than you could ever know.”
Your eyes stung, but you blinked them away, smiling at your mom. “I love you too.”
–
The walk back to the ground floor was long and left you heavy hearted. You’d think that after spending hours with your mom you’d feel rejuvenated, but this place and her sickly appearance did nothing but leave you drained and on the verge of tears. Happy waited for you next to the car, who you thanked with a weak smile. The radio thrummed on as he drove through Los Angeles to Malibu.
The mansion was quiet, except for the annoyingly loud waterfall centerpiece around the stairs. The lights were dimmed, TV turned off, and the garage/workshop silent. Happy silently motioned towards the kitchen with a tilt of his head you quietly followed. Inside, Pepper had laid out a fresh box of pizza, one with all of your favorite toppings and another with pepperoni. She’d already laid out the plates, sauces and whatever else you could have wanted to have along with your pizza.
You looked between them and the pizza, the sight reminiscing you of something. “What is this, the employee break room?”
The light hearted quip does enough to elicit a soft laugh from the two. “Close.” Pepper makes you a plate and Happy pulls out the chair for you to sit in before they make their own. The three of you sit around the table, the smell of pizza all through the kitchen and no doubt flowing through the entire mansion. Usually, Tony would have sniffed out the hot pie and scarfed a slice of pepperoni down his throat with another on the way, but tonight he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
“Seeing that the pizza survived this long, I’m assuming the boss isn’t home.” You hummed, reaching over to grab another slice.
Pepper glanced at Happy who side eyed you. “Not exactly.”
As if it was perfectly timed, a loud wonton moan could be heard from upstairs in the direction from Tony’s room.
“Oh,” you raised your brows, but quickly brushed over the ordeal. Since you moved in, you’d seen and heard all of Tony’s transgressions. Of course, thanks to JARVIS’s total control over the mansion he made sure that you couldn’t hear anything too salacious. The poor AI was doing his best to shield you from your fathers escapades.
“Let me guess, he went out with Obadiah and came home with her.”
Pepper gave an almost sympathetic and embarrassed nod. The embarrassment stemmed from the fact that Tony had little care in trying to understand, let alone be mindful, of the fact a child (his child) lived in the same home as him.
You, however, couldn’t care less. Despite the short time you’d been living in the mansion you could already tell what kind of person Tony was: a manchild.
“Y’know you guys don’t have to stay here and wait up for me right?” You said, reaching over for a can of soda.
Pepper and Happy exchanged a glance. “We know.”
You set your plate down, “so, what’s the plan for tomorrow? Any other impromptu trip?”
Pepper glanced down at her PDA, recalling Tony’s schedule for the next week. Her eyes widened as if she just realized something important. “He has to go on a work trip in a few days, after the Apogee Awards,” she turned to Happy, who was slowly getting onto the same page as her, “one of us needs to stay here. Gosh, how could I forget.”
“I can stay,” Happy suggested. The two fall into their own conversation about something you couldn’t totally understand. If Tony was going on a trip then why did one of them need to stay back? And why do they keep glancing towards you?
“Wait, what's going on?” You ask, feeling left behind.
“I’ve been just so busy with managing things,” Pepper starts to ramble off, reaching for her PDA. “I had a feeling I was missing something, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.”
“Pepper,” you called.
“Right.” She then got to the point at hand, “I forgot to get a sitter.”
You frowned, cringing. “Sitter? I’m fourteen– almost fifteen, I don’t need a sitter.”
“I have to, you’re a minor. It’s just a precaution.” She tried to rationalize with you, “the trip’s supposed to be just two days, but knowing Tony he might extend it and go somewhere else, and if he does someone has to be with you.”
You shook your head. "Absolutely not. I’m fourteen, not four. I’m not a kid that needs a babysitter, Pep.” You grabbed your plate and stood up. “I’ve been left alone at home before, so it’s no big deal.”
“Look, rules are the rules,” Happy spoke up and you could tell he was going to go on one of his ‘safety and rules’ lectures.
You set your plate down into the sink, “I know, safety is number one priority, yada-yada. Look, if it’s only going to be a couple of days then I can go stay with my mom. There’s plenty of room and I’ll be under the supervision of an adult. Cool?”
You could see that they were considering it as an option, it may have not been the one they would have preferred, but it was an option.
“I’ll talk to Tony about it,” Pepper finally said. You smiled, knowing that he’ll say yes.
You said goodnight to the two and walked up the stairs and to your room. After a quick shower you changed into a matching pajama set and settled into bed. Thankfully, JARVIS had soundblocked your room so you wouldn’t have to hear anymore of whatever was going on in Tony’s room allowing you to drift off to sleep.
Hopefully, the stars were in your favor and you could have a short vacation away from Tony.
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