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#can you imagine if we left these 4 guys alone in the top floor of stark tower for like a month #or even just a week #SHIT WOULD GET DONE #we’d probably have interstellar travel in 3 days

#to be honest they probably wouldn’t get much done #they’d be too busy bonding over how much fun science is #and having sleepovers and doing each other’s hair 

Ok, okay here’s how it goes (bastardizing canon, ahoy):
(edit): Now officially reposted on AO3 as Tony Would Like to Register a Protest (With Captain Rodgers’ Ass).

Because Tony’s a nice person (and Steve’s an utter ass, no really, you have no idea) he lets the Avengers move in. It’s not like he needs the space, hello mansion, and Bruce and Cap really don’t have anywhere that’s not stamped SHIELD to stay anyway. And after Spiderman joins, it’s just easier to move Peter and MJ and Aunt May in with them.

Because the Kingpin’s kinda an ass and kinda a poser, but the man’s got reach, okay and Tony doesn’t have a family, not really, but he knows what it’s like to lose something and he doesn’t want that for the Parkers.

And, really, the kid’s a genius. Setting him up with his own corner of one of the genetics labs in Stark Tower is just good business, honest. If Peter ever actually takes him up on that job offer.

In the meantime, Bruce blows up a few tables, Hulk smashes some more, no one’s really sure what happened to the spectrometer but neither of the two of them are saying anything about it, and some Awesome Shit gets made. Between the three of them, and a Dr Conners who pops in to consult for the neurological bits, they manage to have a stable visual prosthetic prototype to help blind-from-birth people see. In a month and a half.

So, Tony awesome, right?

You following?

Good, the next bit is even easier:

Steve Rodgers is an utter ass.

Here’s how it goes:

Reed Richards is a self-absorbed, frigid bastard, and Tony is totally the one to ask. He’s completely read up on the subject, did his dissertation in ‘cold shoulder and brush offs’ and has ‘narcissistic control freak’ on his business cards (after ‘genius’, ‘billionaire’, ‘playboy’ and ‘philanthropist’. Pepper had thought it was amusing but hadn’t made him fix it. He still uses them occasionally, paper and all). Tony totally has the PhD in this.

Richards? Bastard.

So, when Tony hears how one of Hammer’s little pathetic attempts at a robot minion trashed the Fantastic Four’s labs, Tony’s not doing a little sadistic smirk. Oh no.

No- see, Tony?

Tony puts on his tube socks, his Ray-Bans, one of Steve’s white dress shirts, blares some good ACDC and dances. Oh, he totally shakes that.

Bruce laughs so hard, he clutches his sides and falls off the couch, Clint rolls his eyes and rolls right past the living room (probably to raid the freezer for the last of the peanut butter ice cream). Steve, though?

Steve tilts his head to the ceiling, puts a hand over his eyes in exasperation and tells Tony- Tells Tony- that Richards had requested housing and assistance from SHIELD until the rebuild was completed in exchange for something, something, quantum-shield, something blah.

See how that went? Yeah, that’s about what it sounded like to Tony, too, because he got distracted by Steve following it up by admitting he’d volunteered the Tower for the purpose.

Suddenly, dancing in your underwear wasn’t nearly as fun.

Suddenly, Tony has to actually think about- actually think about- the logistics of hosting the fucking Richards and fucking Johnny fucking Storm on his property. Fuck his life.

(Ben Grimm was fine. Ben Grimm was awesome. Like a politer, slightly smaller, but more gravely red Hulk. No science. No rouge experiments that blew up a building, Jesus Christ, Richards.)


But half his problem is actually taken care of by his resident spider-geek, and they seem to be getting along stupidly well and Tony’s so going to have to sit the kid down after the sleepover and lay some ground rules like ‘not listening to a fucking thing out of Storm’s mouth, he is the king of property damage, okay and I like, and you like, the labs whole, in one piece and not missing vital components, alright, fine, you get this?’ (Maybe he’ll make Steve do it.)

And, okay, Sue is fine (oh boy is she ever) so he doesn’t have to worry about his labs with her, but that still leaves Richards floating around.

Tony would completely give him a broom closet and a cot and lock him out of all the labs in spite, but there are chemicals in the broom closets. Tony knows better.

So, instead, Tony gives him one of the isolated, pretty unused (really dusty) labs and sticks a cot down there. (He blinks innocently at Sue when she gives him a Look, because of course Richards- Reed- would much rather be on hand in case a data run finished so he could get right back to it, seriously. Tony tried not to gag when Richards looked pleased at this and nodded along with his explanation.)

Then Tony proceeds to not come out of his workshop for a week.

He’s not hiding (shut up, Clint.)

There are important upgrades that he needs to put into Iron Man (shut up, Clint.)

He doesn’t intend to forget meals until way past when everyone else (ok, almost everyone else) is already asleep (fuck you, Clint, and the fucking dick you rode in on.)

Finally- it might be Thursday- Steve lets himself into Tony’s workshop. Captain America and Thor have been requested on Asgard. Political, something something, make nice, happy gods, something blah.

Basically, they’re leaving him alone. With Reed Richards.

For a week.

Someone hates him.

Someone seriously hates him and has it in for his mental and penal health.

No. No, he is an adult, not a very mature one but an adult and he’s done board meetings and stockholder meetings and press conferences (although, those admittedly do not go as well for him. Historically.) He can do this.

He wasn’t expecting the surprise attack. (But he should’ve been, because Reed fucking Richards and that, that right there is enough of a reason to fill a bucketful of reasons.)

But how hard can it be to kill pinkish, purple goo?

Do not answer that.

Whatever you do, don’t answer that.

In fact, just- don’t mention that entire week again, okay? Because Tony? Tony’s about had it.

Johnny Storm and Reed Richards and a month and his Tower and Steve and Tony’s done. He’s just done and pink slime on top of that?


Just done.


Ugh, Okay, Richards might’ve, might’ve saved his life. A tiny bit. Just a little. A micron’s worth or so. Not a lot.

Because he hadn’t been in the suit when the thing first showed up and swallowed him whole.

Because Hammer was a persistent bastard and also imminently stupid.

And about to be in a whole lot more pain.

(How sending a blob of semi-sentient pink goo to get the Iron Man counts as a well-thought out and technical plan, Tony can’t figure. Then again, Hammer=stupid. It’s a theorem he’s worked with for years now, and he’s found it particularly effective.)

(Poor bastard probably needs to get laid.)

The celebratory, (mandatory, Richards) after-battle drinking binge is a lot less fun without Thor, but hey, you work with what you got. Johnny’s got a surprising repertoire of drinking games stored up in that noggin, and fewer scruples (and desire to touch expensive, delicate equipment) when plastered. It’s also refreshing to be able to drink someone other than Clint or Banner under the table. (Bruce is an adorable, cuddly teetotaler.)

The truly awesome bit comes the morning after, where Richards is up bright and early. Tony doesn’t stumble down for a few hours, but he can tell (mostly by the way the frying pan is washed and the coffee is already lukewarm.)

No hangover. Richards- Okay, that is unfair.

And Tony’s completely ready to hate him even more when Richards stretches (that will always be creepy, Richards) a small, silverish and pink pill at him.

"For your head."

God, how can anyone be that earnest in the mor-

Holy fuck.

Richards- Reed has a hangover cure.

"Oh my god, I think I love you."

Reed’s lips quirk in confusion, but he thanks Tony before going back to the pad and- his emails.


"You know, I have a more sophisticated spam blocker and an email filter program that makes Outlook look like something dreamed up by a demented child."

Huh. Totally didn’t mean to say that, but, you know, whatever.

It’s true.

So Tony informally spends the rest of his hangover-free day installing software for Reed and bickering good-naturedly about the feasibility of arc reactor production on a large scale. There might be puns involved.

And a conversation about Starbucks. And not the coffee.

(Okay, first impression might’ve been a little. Off.)

When Steve gets back with Thor, he expresses his effusive disbelief at Reed’s continued existence.

Peter, the little shit, opens his mouth- and his doom- with ” Oh, no. It was cool. Well, about ten minutes after you left, Tony hid in his room for- well, until the gay-goo attacked. Then they went at it like school girls. I think someone actually used the words ‘that colour is horrible with your skin tone, you’re completely a Winter.’”

Tony’s going to reprogram his room to nothing but show tunes.

Then he remembers what MJ does.

Damn. Okay, maybe Lambchops?

He’ll figure out.

(Source: lucasbryants, via emberfiredrake)