Chapter Text
Months of research, of skulking around and forging paperwork and intercepting communications— and it was finally paying off.
Tony looked around the enormous lecture hall with wide eyes, practically vibrating in his seat. He knew he stuck out like a sore thumb, but he didn’t care: his shiny new student ID was burning a hole in his pocket, his backpack was a near-clone of his neighbor’s, and in the next few minutes he’d start on the next chapter of his life.
This was the first time he’d set foot in an institute of higher learning, for the express purpose of learning. Sure, he still had to lay low, since Tony Stark was still #1 on America’s Most Wanted Missing Persons [even if his twenty-second birthday came and went months ago, take a hint already Howard], but…for the first time in his life, he could let loose without having anything hanging over his head.
Could finally poke at some of the things he’d been itching to try with like-minded individuals, could research and leaf through theses and journals without having to sneak around anyone who might be curious as to what a ten-year-old was doing with a textbook on fluid mechanics.
Child prodigies were easy to pick out; enterprising college students, though?
When everyone was broke and scrambling to stand out, especially in a university big enough for some of its courses to have upwards of 300 students, while also having some cool-sounding research going on?
Nobody’d look too closely at some freshman asking too many questions.
That’s what he was counting on, anyway.
The professor strode up to the podium, and Tony straightened up in preparation for his first day of college.
Mistakes were made.
Many, many mistakes were made.
James walked into the tiny kitchen, saw the mountain of books competing for space with the mess of wire that nearly hid Tony's makeshift pillow of what appeared to be scattered notes, and sighed as he moved to wake him up.
"Kid, you know better than this. Get to bed if you're going to crash."
"'m not a kid." Tony mumbled. "But fine, fine, I'm going. Oh— here."
He shoved another sheaf of notes at James, who hastily put his mug down to keep it from joining the mess on the counter. "Another one? And here I thought you were the one who had homework."
"You're the one who wants to catch up on the news, I'm just trying to help." Tony said as he set about cleaning up his projects. "Eastern Europe's been busy. So's mom. Oh— by the way, burn that once you're done?"
James shook his head with a laugh. "Do I want to know?"
"...I wouldn't recommend you drink anything when you reach the Balkans, even if that one wasn't us. You'll probably get a kick of what mom did to that one homeowner association, though, so there's that."
"Wait— Tony, when did you even make this?" He asked, as he started flipping through and feeling mildly alarmed by the compact scrawl. "I thought you were studying computer science and philosophy?"
"Guest lecturer on the Cold War last Wednesday. I was there for some of it, it was fun seeing it from an outside perspective."
James pinched the bridge of his nose.
Geez. No wonder he was dead to the world, if he pushed himself that much.
"Take care of yourself, kid, I thought I taught you better—"
"It's fun!" Tony bristled, hunching over his notes protectively. "It's the first time I can let loose like this, give me a break. I can handle it, I've been handling it, it's fine."
James gave the bags under his eyes a dubious look, and Tony scowled.
"Midterms coming up. If I want to secure lab space, I have to impress the chair of the department. But don't worry, I've got this."
Culver University had several of the typical crypids for a college campus: that one bookstore five minutes away with just about every book under the sun, that hole-in-the-wall restaurant that somehow managed to avoid getting written up for health code violations, that one professor who was always listed on the roster but hadn’t been seen since the first day of class.
However, not three months into the new academic year, a new cryptid was being added to the roster: Caffeine Rush Undergrad.
Tony walked out of the latest round of exams with a bounce in his step, already thinking about whether or not he’d be able to make it to the guest lecture in time to find a seat…only to pick up the dark atmosphere around him, courtesy of his classmates.
“Ugh, that was brutal and I think there was a typo somewhere in there because how—”
“—had like one slide covering it during lecture, why was it—”
“—an I’m going to fail, this stupid class is going to tank my GPA, fu—”
Some were almost in tears, some were fuming. More than a few were bleary-eyed, clearly having pulled an all-nighter cramming for the test that made up a good chunk of their grade.
Tony tried not to feel too guilty about wrecking the grading curve because he had no doubt he’d aced it, and had done the extra-credit question too just because it’d seemed like a fun thought exercise.
Then he checked his watch, bit back a curse as he clutched at his messenger bag, and started to jog towards the building he’d seen on the flyer about public health talks.
Caffeine Rush Undergrad had a name, presumably.
However, when looking at short freshmen and transfer students and seeing the only one in the room who looked actually excited about the upcoming exams, well…it was hard to remember to ask.
If Tony hadn’t known just what the hell he was doing, he would not have gotten as far as he had. As it was, his obvious interest and experience in computer programming had been a plus, so even if he’d had to bullshit his way out of declaring a major without raising eyebrows— it was worth it.
He now had a bench dedicated to his work on cloud computing, and even if Culver didn’t know his end goal was getting JARVIS even more mobility than before on top of seeing what else he could do with what resources he now had at hand, well…this place was a goddamn candy store, alright?
Also, as a bonus he was now a familiar face to several departments he hadn’t quite gotten around to checking out, including a free pass to continue arguing with that one philosophy professor whenever office hours were slow and his code was compiling.
Caffeine Rush Undergrad was like a goddamn puppy, all wide eyes and running around all the damn time, leaving behind towering stacks of books whenever he went to the library and sneaking into lecture halls for classes he wasn’t even in just to ask the speaker questions later.
It was impressive. And exhausting, and intimidating, especially when word got out that Caffeine Rush somehow had managed to secure a research position in one of the most competitive programs on campus.
Tony met Bruce Banner and Betty Ross after he found some of their publications, and his glee at discovering that they were working on something only a few wings away from his own bench was…something.
Not explosive, because he knew better than to attract the wrong sort of attention, but something.
Sure, they’d eyed him suspiciously at first, but after seeing he knew what he was doing and that he had no interest in stealing their research, they got along swimmingly!
Well, at least they didn’t treat him like a little kid the way Foster and Selvig did, anyway.
More like a second set of eyes, and even if Tony didn’t entirely get the finer points he was able to follow along well enough. Kind of like the way Bruce was a great rubber duck whenever he shared what he was doing with JARVIS, even if he sometimes seemed more than a little amused by the comparison. Or, wait, no: a better analogy could be the way Betty thought DUM-E was cute whenever Tony let him out of his backpack.
("He's death from the ankles below!"
"He's adorable.")
…and then Caffeine Rush Undergrad disappeared after the Green Incident, which, of course, meant he became legendary around campus.
Tony had two coffees in hand, one for Betty and one for Bruce, and nearly dropped both the moment he glimpsed General Ross in the hall, headed towards—
Oh.
Oh, dear.
He turned on a heel and ducked into the nearest office he could find, before Howard’s old golf buddy could spot him and risk putting two and two together.
“You didn’t tell me your old man was Thunderbolt Ross.” Tony said as he passed over a cup of now-lukewarm coffee. His voice wasn’t accusing; he was better than that. But his hands were this close to shaking, and there was a tension he couldn’t shake because he’d foolishly, naively assumed he was safe here, why had he—
“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked, eyes sharp and damn it he was slipping if some civilians could see his nerves.
“Nothing.” Tony plastered on a smile, and shoved his cup in his direction as he mentally readied himself as to what he’d need to do now because if his mom hadn’t picked up chatter then they were okay, but…
Oh, right.
Geez, seeing Ross had really shaken him up. But his family was safe, and he had a plan and a story and he could bullshit with the best of them, he just had to get a grip.
Deep breath, steady hands. DUM-E was pressing against his leg in his messenger bag, while Butterfingers was a comforting weight in his jacket pocket. He could handle this.
“Nothing,” he repeated to their disbelieving looks, “it’s just that my mom was a… Vietnam protestor. She broke a lot of shit, and… may or may not have several warrants with her name still out there.”
He hated lying to his friends, but his family was on the line. Uncle James was still getting back on his feet, and his mom didn’t need any more stress than what she already had going on.
Also? It wasn’t actually a lie. Technically, his mom was a kidnapper. Jury was still out on the treason charges, though, because enough people counted her as a whistleblower that Howard hadn’t quite been able to get those to stick. Even if the press loved to claim otherwise.
Bruce relaxed, but frowned in concern. “You recognized Betty’s father from that?”
Tony didn’t hide how awkward he was feeling now, after the fact. Especially because it was the truth, in a way— if only even weirder.
“There’s a strong resemblance going on, and he…mayormaynothavebeenlookingforherpersonally.”
Misleading as hell? Yes. Did he regret it? Nope.
Betty shared a look with Bruce, then looked at the doorway and blanched before surging forward and shoving him behind her desk.
Fortunately, Tony knew enough to roll with it and so ducked and curled himself the best he could just as the footsteps got louder and General Ross’ voice came from the doorway.
“Oh, almost forgot— Banner? What are you doing here?”
Bruce’s shoes had a very distinctive squeak whenever he shifted his weight nervously. Tony’d noticed it before, but never quite like now.
“Hello, General Ross—” He started, before Betty cut in.
“Dad? I wanted to tell you this in person. I have a boyfriend.” She must have gestured or made a face, for the choked noise coming from Bruce’s side of the room and how did he get himself in these situations, seriously?