Work Text:
You lay in bed a few hours later, hugging your pillow to your chest and staring at the crack in your ceiling. You could hear your upstairs neighbour’s just getting in from a Friday night out, that apparently ended badly. They were yelling at each other again, a weekly if not nightly ritual. Neither of them could keep their hands to themselves it seemed, and it often resulted in an argument, angry tears then sad tears, and then loud makeup sex. They were just reaching the angry tears phase when you rolled over, feeling the chill of your cold apartment up your spine.
You had yelled at Iron Man. The guy that saved the world from terrorists more than once, and an alien invasion. You weren’t in New York when the incident occurred, but you’d watched it on the news. Saw the buildings crumble, the world falling apart.
And then you saw the Avengers rebuilding it. Saw Tony Stark fly his suit and shoot down whatever ships the aliens had, saw Captain America throw his shield around and direct civilians out of the way. You even caught a glimpse of Thor, though it was mostly just his cape. Admittedly you were a fan of them for a while after the incident, but when you returned to your everyday life, and nothing had actually changed...you were reminded that nothing would change in the world. No matter what the universe threw at Earth it would keep spinning, people would keep working, yourself included.
You let out another long sigh and closed your eyes. Two hours until you started work at your other job and you’d slept maybe a total of 45 minutes. You kept replaying what you’d said to Tony, wondering what he must have thought of you. Crazy, obviously. Overworked, maybe. Exhausted, for sure.
Angry.
Depressed.
Desperate for change.
You doubted he saw any of that. You doubted he was astute enough to see you as anything other than a person ready for the world to end. It wasn’t that you wanted the world to end, or for everyone (yourself included) to die. But you wanted something different to happen, even if that something was bad.
You opened your eyes and looked at your clock. Seven in the morning. The sun, if it was rising now, was hidden behind clouds. The grey light filtered through your broken curtains and for a moment you debated just not going into work today. You thought that everyday though, and you always ended up going in.
Hauling yourself out of bed you noticed your neighbours had already sped past the sad tears and gotten right into the making out part of their schedule. You groaned and moved to the bathroom, taking a five minutes cold shower before throwing on a pair of old jeans, a loose fitting tee-shirt and sweater. Once you threw two pieces of bread into the toaster you were about to start on your coffee when you remembered you hadn’t stolen it from work. You groaned and let your head fall back.
You began to massage your neck when there was a knock on your front door. You rolled your head to face it, wondering who would be knocking so early in the morning. Nobody knocked on doors in the neighbourhood, not unless they wanted to yell at you. When you ignored it the person knocked again.
Walking on the balls of your feet you wished you had kept bugging your superintendent to fix the peephole; but you never used it so you figured it was a waste of energy. Now you were kicking yourself.
You stared at the door knob, debating on if to answer. Upstairs the couple had knocked over something that shattered.
Thinking life couldn’t beat you down any more than it had, you pulled at the chain and unlocked the door, opening it.
You blanched as you recognized Tony Stark, dressed in a three piece suit and yellow sunglasses over his eyes. His beard was trimmed, hair combed back as he looked a phone in his hand. Or what you assumed was a phone; it was a clear rectangle, the phone of the future.
Your phone still had a keyboard on it.
“Do you always take so long to answer a door?” he asked, looking up from his phone and stepping inside. You stepped aside, too dumbfounded to do anything else. “You’re going to have to work on that. And keeping your phone on you at all times.” He reached into his pocket and tossed something at you. You caught it easily, realizing it was your phone.
“Where did you get this?”
“Your backpack,” he replied. He moved into your living room, a small box with an armchair and coffee table, and your computer sitting on top. His back was to you but you could imagine him scrunching his nose at the lack of...well, everything. He faced you. “You left it at the diner after you assaulted me with kitchenware.”
You looked away. “Yeah, about that…”
“No need to apologize,” he told you, “but you need to finish up whatever you’re doing here or we’ll be late. So, chop chop.”
Tony went back to looking at his phone, typing something out. As he approached you he looked you up and down. “We’ll have to find you something else to wear, too.”
You looked down at yourself. “What’s wrong with this? Wait, what are you talking about?”
“Here,” he said. There was a flutter of anxiety in your chest as he reached into another pocket and pulled out an identical phone to his. When he tossed it at you this time you almost missed, choosing to drop your own phone to catch his. “That’s yours, keep it on you at all times. Answer it, don’t answer it, up to you.”
You flipped the device in your hands. “Uh, thanks?”
There were too many questions spinning in your skull for you to voice any of them. Tony stepped out the still open door. Standing beneath the yellow lights he turned to you, eyebrows raised. “You coming?”
“Where?” You placed a hand on the door, ready to slam it shut in his face if he thought you would just do whatever he said.
“I want you to work for me, this is a job offer,” he stated. He held his arm out to the hallway. “So if you’ll just…”
“A job for what?”
“You’ll be a personal assistant,” he told you, lowering his arm. “Unless you want to go back to working at that diner you nearly burned down last night.”
You gulped. “I don’t have the qualifications for--”
“Are you really going to convince me not to pay you a 100K salary?”
If your eyes got any wider you thought they might fall out. So instead of gaping at Tony you snapped your mouth shut and nodded.
“You’re nodding so you don’t want--” he started.
“No, I want it!” you interrupted. You quickly stepped out and shut your door.
“Okay well you were nodding and--”
“I want it, please. Yes, job. Okay yes.” How did sentences work again? You’d apparently forgotten.
“Rule number one, don’t interrupt me,” he told you. You nodded vigorously. You still weren’t completely sure what was happening, or if this was a vivid hallucination. Yet there stood Tony Stark, offering you a job, to work as his personal assistant. Didn’t he already have one? Wasn’t it a robot? Maybe he meant you were going to be the robot’s assistant.
Tony started walking down the hallway and you followed, trying to figure out how to use the phone he’d just handed you. You didn’t want to shove it into your back pocket as you had with previous devices, fearing it would crack instantly.
The butterflies in your stomach were starting to take off as you thought of what might be involved in this position. Coffee you could do, maybe booking dental appointments even, but what if it involved planning a huge party? He did that a lot, right? Or maybe he just attended parties…
You gulped as you followed him down the stairs one flight to the ground floor. Outside was a silver Audi Coupe, sleek and gorgeous, and illegally parked in front of a fire hydrant. You stalled on the front steps of your building, watching as each person craned their neck to get a look at the vehicle and driver.
Of all things for Tony to do, he opened the passenger side door and looked back at you. Even from the few feet between you two you could see the small frown on his lips.
“Rule number two, don’t make me wait,” he called. You thought it was a joke almost by the way his lips twitched upwards, and you quickly walked over, climbing into the seat. It was leather and smelled brand new; you wrinkled your nose, not appreciating the smell.
Tony jumped in beside you, turning the car on immediately. He looked over at you. “You’re sure about this? I’m sensing unsureness is all.”
“I’m never sure about anything,” you admitted.
He tilted his head as if agreeing with you. “Looks like we have more in common than you think.”
The car took off, with Tony barely looking back for any traffic. Cars honked as you raced through New York streets, heading for the large tower in the distance.
Avengers Tower.
Your new workplace.