Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

⌜ October, 2016

Coordinates 25.0000° N, 71.0000° W

Somewhere in the North Atlantic Ocean ⌝

“The goddamn Bermuda Triangle.”

The commanding voice was almost lost amid the frenzied clamor of feet scurrying across the floor, but the urgency of the situation failed to quicken his lackadaisical pace. Despite men and women scurrying away in the opposite direction, their panic had no effect on him.

Nick Fury didn’t bother giving the people so much as a passing glance.

“Belfast, Belgrade, Budapest…” Each word bounced against the surrounding steel walls, traveling with them as they marched forward. “Almost thirty-five years doing this job and somehow, they all still find a way to surprise me.”

In perfect unison, two pairs of feet pounded against the cement floor with each step taken. They rounded the corner side by side, walking down the long corridor together.

“I wouldn’t be too surprised, sir,” Maria mentioned, just as bold in tone, though barely audible over the tightly contained chaos they approached. Rooms they walked by were in disarray, with equipment being hastily hauled out as the people around them showed no signs of slowing down. “After all, this entire infrastructure was built as a prototype for something much bigger. The architect who designed it struck a deal —”

They both split apart to make way for a panicked man running up ahead, his white lab coat swinging wildly behind him as he squeezed between them with force; leaving a trail of dropped documents in his wake.

“The architect struck a deal,” Maria continued to say, even as she looked behind her to spare those forgotten papers a quick look. “He wanted to engineer a prison entirely submerged underwater, but needed someone to play guinea pig with the concept first. The Navy made it clear they would only make the purchase as long as the bunker could remain unscathed in the ocean for a minimum of five years. It wasn’t as if —”

“Coming through!”

Maria froze in place just in time for a horde of people to empty out of the nearest entrance, almost causing a head-on collision had she not reacted quickly enough.

“Move it! Move it! Move —!” The person leading the way barely managed to push past her without making direct contact, a feat considering his arms were chock-full of supplies. The hallways were narrow by design, and the frantic evacuation only made things more cramped. “Excuse us, coming through — Jenkins, let’s go! Only what you can carry! We’re down to the wire, leave the rest!”

A large group of what Maria assumed were scientists bolted out of one of the dozens of laboratories they walked past. Despite their undertone of panic, she and Nick kept slow pace down the hallway, a sharp contrast to the rushed speed of those darting around them.

“It wasn’t as if the Federal Bureau of Prisons were gunna invest all that money without concrete proof it would survive the elements long-term,” Maria kept on as if she’d never been interrupted. She craned her head slightly to the side, catching a glimpse of the commotion inside one of the many rooms. “So the architect created this bunker and offered it up to OsCorp as a way to trial run the original concept, eventually going to sell it off entirely to the BOP.”

The harsh lights that lit the way did no favors to the staff running around. The stress was evident in their fast steps, highlighted by the sharp and unflattering fluorescent wall fixtures. Some barked orders while others kept their lips sealed tight — especially when they laid eyes on the two figures walking towards them.

The ones who dared to give dirty looks only felt the heat of Fury’s scowl in return.

“The clock had barely struck midnight on the five year mark when General Ross signed for the construction of the Raft.” Maria turned her head slightly to glance at Fury, even as he kept looking straight ahead. The eye-patch that covered his one eye only intensified the hostility in the other. “Pretty sure the Times Square’s ball was still dropping when they broke dirt.”

They turned another corner together, this one just as crowded as the others. The harsh overhead lights, however, were immediately washed out by the soft teal glow shining from the wall windows. The steel that lined their way was quickly colored with the iridescence of the sea.

“Or...broke water.” Maria significantly slowed her pace as they both took in the sight that greeted them.

With the outer bunker reinforced in glass curtains, the depth of their location underwater was more visible than ever; showcasing every bit of of the aquatic life that occupied the ocean, reflecting against their face no different than a visit to any local aquarium.

Fury cocked an eyebrow as a school of fish swam by.

And then kept walking.

“Some achievement for them,” he scoffed, hands deep in his leather jacket as they moved ahead. The mixture of green and blue rays that reflected from the outside gave a bit more color to his black attire, and shined a ray of light against his otherwise bald head. “The Raft — a joke is what that was. A maximum-security prison that couldn’t even hold a few unruly, troublesome members of a long-since maverick motley crew.”

Maria mimicked his expression; one eyebrow reaching high into her hairline, hid behind the tuft of bangs that covered her forehead.

“You started that maverick motley crew, sir,” she reminded him, sparing no ounce of pertness in her tone. When Fury gave her a side-eye, she smirked. “I also believe it was somebody that looked an awful lot like you who erased evidence of Tony Stark’s technology causing blackouts across Ryker’s Island at the very same time that motley crew escaped the Raft.” Maria's gaze wandered towards the glass windows, deftly avoiding Fury’s ever-growing glower. “It's been three months and General Ross still can’t fathom how the rouges just...got out.”

Even though Maria had her head turned away from his visible peripheral vision, she knew Fury could hear in her tone what he couldn’t see in her face. Both could have their sights set straight ahead and still discern every detail about the other without a single glance. It was simply second nature after so many years working together.

Fury noticeably pulled his shoulders back taut as they kept walking. “Just because we’re thirteen-hundred-feet under the ocean doesn’t give you permission to speak freely, Hill.”

Maria’s smirk only grew wider, and she folded both arms over her chest — right as a few shadows covered her face, larger fishes swimming by and darkening the turquoise that illuminated the hallway.

“I am technically the director now, sir,” she said, more casual than anything else, speaking miles to their ongoing partnership. “But nonetheless, understood.”

The unwelcoming, cold, and borderline sterile feeling they had experienced from the other sections of the bunker were drowned out by the almost serene aquatic atmosphere lining the walls, depicting a seascape that the average person would likely never see.

What few rays of sunlight that managed to penetrate deep into the ocean cut through the blue water like a knife. The colors were caught by the glass, painting the steel hallways with gentle ripples caused by marine life and the water current from high above.

And yet, Fury took the next corner without giving it any further attention.

“We find out how they were dispersing the dampener mist?” he asked, his focus set straight ahead.

“Released through the oxygen concentrator and spread up through the recirculating air units within the walls.” Despite the crowds, Maria stayed in step with Fury as they continued through the bunker. The SHIELD logo on her jacket brushed up against more than a handful of lab coats along the way. “It basically created a barrier against the exterior without finding its way through the inside, preventing them from experiencing the effects of the nanite technological dampeners while causing any overhead technology — like our tracking devices — to fail. Explains why every time we got a lead on OsCorp, all our data kept coming back corrupted.”

The hallways darkened as they departed from the glass windows. They had only just turned corners again when they both came to an abrupt halt, making way for a group of scientists carrying a large piece of equipment that filled the width of the corridor.

Every person they walked by showed visible frustration and resentment at their presence.

Fury, once again, met their dirty looks with a scowl.

“It was only a matter of time before some maniac with a God complex copied the likes of Strucker,” Fury remarked, going so far as to make eye contact with every single scientist who had to pass them by on their way out. The smallest tug on his lips indicated a hint of a smile. “But everyone’s luck runs out eventually, doesn’t it?”

“Let me GO, please!”

The only thing louder than the cry from up ahead were the sounds of struggle that interlaced with each hoarse scream, tearing from a man’s throat in a moment of sheer desperation.

Maria craned her head around to the source of commotion, her frown deepening as the noise started to dwindle away.

“Please, I am begging you — just let me go, let me leave with them — I’ll sign anything you want, I won’t tell a soul, just let me GO!”

A loud BANG silenced the shouts, and echoed all the way down the hallway. While Fury kept walking, Maria paused — just long enough for the noise of a door slamming shut to slowly fade out of earshot.

“Would’ve been nice to crack down on them sooner,” she mumbled, noticeably squeezing the fold of her arms tighter across her chest.

Evacuation, total shutdown —but that was it. When it came to anything else, their hands were tied. That included seizing property, and with a churn of disgust in her stomach, she knew that included people turned into property.

Bureaucratic politics. It was the worst part about her job. And the frightful, helpless cries of those being hauled off into evacuation submarines only reminded her of that much.

Maria’s jaw tightened as she spun back around, catching sight of Fury already halfway down the hallway.

Sometimes she wondered how the man managed to sleep at night having done this job for so long.

“You know, sir,” Maria started, picking up pace once again to rejoin his side. “It was only with...quite a few pairs of extra hands that we managed to rid the remaining Hydra allegiance. Strucker included.”

They turned another corner, this one far less occupied. The evacuation process was nearing completion, and the empty corridors caused a reverberation of their voices against the metal walls.

“With their slates wiped clean,” Maria dipped her voice low to keep it from echoing, “perhaps it’d be easier if we passed this onto —”

“The Avengers — whatever the hell remains of them — are on a need to know basis,” Fury retorted, and sharply at that. “They don’t need to know this. They don’t get involved.”

Maria frowned. “Nick —”

Fury spun quick on his heels, fast enough that his leather coat swung with the artificial air filling the bunker.

“People need to rebuild trust, Hill,” he began to say, his one eye locked on Maria’s in a heartbeat. She met that gaze, even with the furrow that dipped her eyebrows low. “The last three months have been the biggest shitstorm we’ve gone up against since Hydra’s decades long infiltration, all thanks to Stark and Rogers childish misbehavior’s. If our world is ever threatened with war again, as much of a pain in the ass they are...we’ll need them. And people aren’t going to trust them. Not after the mess those two caused.”

Though a rebuttal was right on the tip of her tongue, Maria failed to respond — at least right away. Her mouth worked to the side as she considered her words, only to find herself distracted when the walls beside to her started grate and screech.

The creaking stretched on for nearly a minute, almost strong enough to vibrate the floors they stood on.

She waited until the noise dissipated before speaking.

“People trust in them enough to support the dismantling of the Accords.”

The pause that followed showed Fury needed to consider his words no different than Maria had before.

“Perhaps,” he finally answered, though his head shook after the fact. “But they sure as hell won’t believe in them. And people need to believe in heroes, in a universe bigger than all of us. All that...it all starts with them.”

Fury brought his arm into the air, gesturing aimlessly to their dimly lit surroundings.

“This, this right here?” His finger wagged and pointed at nothing, and yet it said everything as another faint and anguished scream was heard from far away. “This is just the tip of the iceberg. What’s to come...we’ll need those maverick’s more than ever.”

Another door slammed shut from a distance, and it combined with the talking walls; metal groaning in protest to the activity in the bunker.

Without delay, Fury resumed his stride.

Maria held back a sigh as she continued on with him.

“So that’s your plan?” she asked, barely restraining the bite in her tone. “We’re going to get the Avengers back under SHIELD command only to put them in time-out? You really think they’re just going to sit quietly until we say speak?”

Fury noticeably scoffed, hard enough to lift his back.

“I started that maverick motley crew, Hill. I wouldn’t trust them to keep their hands idle for more than two minutes. Especially not with Rogers back onboard — he sniffs out trouble like a damn hound dog.” Fury’s eyes remained fixated on the halls ahead of them, intently focused as they approached a fork in the corridor. “We’ll give them busy work. They’ll have their own problems to sort through between assignments—”

“Stark’s been saying something’s fishy with OsCorp for years now.” Maria paused, letting her head tilt slightly to the side with a noticeable beat changing her expression. “And it looks like he’s been right on the money. Literally, in this case. You really think you’ll be able to keep him out of this?”

“Not a chance in hell.” Fury shot his head over to her, his face the most expressive she’d seen it since they entered the bunker. “The moment he finds out OsCorp’s been doing —”

“Contain him! Contain him!”

“Quick, get the Ativan—!”

“Let me GO! Oh God, please, no, no, let me — oh GOD!”

They both came to a grinding stop at the juncture up ahead, right as a large group of scientists went chasing after a figure they could barely get a glimpse of — only the sand that flung off his body could be distinguished.

“…that,” Fury finished, staring at the zig-zag lines of sand that now covered the floors. He stepped over them with ease. “And Stark will go after them with everything he’s got.”

Maria side-stepped the sand just the same, though she noticeably looked down one of the two hallways they approached, watching as the scientists ran after the mutated individual in a haste. Like most of the activity they’d encountered, the sounds dwindled the further they walked away.

“Why don’t we let him?” she asked the question at the same time her hand brushed away some sand from her jacket, resisting a cough as it still rained to the ground like a kicked-up dust storm.

Fury let out a deep hum from the back of his throat, nodding wordlessly ahead to the right hallway as opposed to the left. It led them down a single entryway, the door already propped open with bustling activity inside. They entered simultaneously, neither stepping in before the other.

“Because Stark will only hit everything on the surface,” he explained. “The courts go by the books — he’ll be lucky to get one, maybe two of these research facilities shut down. If he tries hard enough.”

They both came to a stop as they entered the largest laboratory so far — occupying the center of the bunker, with a flight of steps leading down into the trenches.

“But what lies beneath the surface…” Fury swiveled his gaze as what few scientists still occupied the bunker started to lower a large glass chamber down from the ceiling, the chains that held it in place fighting gravity as it began to swing upon its descent. “That’s our job.”

Maria slowly approached the railing that guarded the upper floor from below. The lines on her face were accentuated by the harsh light filling the lab, emitted from the tank dangling in its slow drop.

It made an impact on the floor gently, and yet with a resounding effect. The substance inside almost seemed to bubble and boil as it touched onto the ground.

Before either of them could consider its purpose, a slow clapping caught them off guard.

“The great Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division everybody!”

As slowly as he clapped, Norman made his way up the steps, one foot stomping loudly before the next took its place. It was only once he reached halfway up the staircase that he pocketed both hands into his trousers, the green glow behind him casting a shadow on his figure.

“Doing the very thing they know best how to do.” Norman stopped on the last grated metal step at the top, leaving just enough space between him and both SHIELD directives that only an arms length separated them. “Meddling where their ungoverned hands don’t belong.”

“Sir, sir — sir!” A man came running up the stairs right behind Norman, frantically skipping two at a time to reach the top level. “As your lawyer, I advise you to —”

“Please, Sanford,” Norman gave an exasperated huff, but never turned to look at the man quickly approaching from behind. His head craned to the side, staring Maria down with an eyebrow cocked so high up it could’ve reached the same ceiling that dangled the chains once holding the tank; the latter now on the floor, and the chains swinging freely without purpose. “As if there’s any legality behind this acquisition. It’s a scare tactic. One that I have no intentions of falling for.”

Maria kept her gaze on the glass chamber, even with Norman’s stare trying to pierce daggers through her hard-shelled exterior.

“Strange,” she drawled out, watching as the scientists began to unplug large pipes from the glass chamber — leaving the green substance inside, where its glow persisted even without the aid of electricity. “Most scare tactics usually don’t involve boarding up the windows. Do they?”

Maria turned her gaze to Fury for a response, only to receive a cold and muted “Mhm,” in return.

Norman flitted his eyes in that same direction, the lines around his lips tightening with the noticeable clench of his jaw.

“Director Hill, humor me if you’d be so kind,” he abruptly began, breaching the empty space between them as he made quick, hard strides towards Maria. One hand left his pocket to gesture her way. “Are you aware of the hypocrisy behind your actions? Did it ever occur to you that you’ve sought out to silence the replication of the very thing your agency created all those years ago?”

Maria finally met his gaze, turning her body inward to face him — and not sparing an ounce of gall in the process.

“Norman, consider yourself lucky that you’re leaving here escorted by your men in an evacuation ship,” she leaned her hip casually against the railing as she spoke, “and not with your hands cuffed behind your back on your way to Ryker’s Island.”

Norman let out a huff, strong enough that it rattled his chest and the ‘OsCorp’ logo plastered across the collarbone of his full-zip jacket. But it wasn’t the sleek design of his company’s name that grabbed Maria’s attention. It was the conspiratorial smirk that followed, wide enough to show the whites of his bottom teeth.

“You’d have no grounds to arrest me,” he simply said.

Fury shot his head around, his one eye holding more expression than all three of them combined.

“Is the pressure getting to me?” He stuck his finger in his ear and wiggled it around to make a point, all while looking straight at Maria. “Am I hearing him right?”

Maria barely acknowledged Fury, using the moment to take a step forward — officially decimating the breathing room between herself and Norman. If the smell of steel and clinical sterility weren’t so abundant, she’d have been close enough to catch a heavy whiff of his cologne.

“Kid yourself all you want, but what you’ve done down here isn’t remotely comparable to the creation of Erskine’s super-soldier serum,” Maria’s voice dipped low while increasing in volume, aided by the steel walls that intensified the sound. “You’ve illegally experimented on human participants —”

Norman balked. “Willingly paid volunteers—!”

“Sir, not another word!” His lawyer jumped forward, reaching for Norman’s bicep and latching on with a tight grip.

Norman didn’t shake off that grip, but when he gave Sanford a piercing look, the man immediately released his grasp without saying another word.

Though the lawyer stepped away, Fury had no problems stepping forward in his place.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Osborn.” Fury dipped his head low, staring Norman head-on with such intensity, it was hard to remember only one eye was dong the work. “If we weren’t on international waters right now, you’d be taking over Cap’s cell on the Raft.”

Norman dropped his head with a low, throaty chuckle. Each expel of laughter shook his back and his head swung left to right, shaking just the same.

"Ah, yes, your great Captain America," he drawled out his words in a slow, deliberate manner. “The prodigal son is released from his chains, returned to his founder’s arms as the mighty Avengers heal the breach, the world celebrates their reunification — and least of all, SHIELD returns to hoarding the abundance of power all for themselves.” At the drop of a hat, Norman’s grin fell flat, along with every other muscle on his face. “Ensuring no one but themselves has the rights to push the limits of human evolution, and punishing anyone who dares to try.”

It was Maria’s turn to scoff, and she didn’t try to hide the noise, either. Her gaze flicked downwards to watch the remaining scientists depart, abandoning the surrounding equipment covered haphazardly with a few white sheets — a far fetched hope that they could return one day and retrieve what they couldn’t take with them now.

“You know...I’ve met some delusional people in my line of work. But you’re truly mad, Norman, if you think anything you’ve done down here has an inkling to do with evolution.” Maria tossed back, with thick disgust lacing into her every word — reflecting in her eyes with a cold anger.

And she let Norman see that anger as she swiveled her head back towards him. Unafraid to hold his gaze, even when his stare was unrelenting.

Norman brought both his hands into the air, twisting his wrists back and forth, all with a grin etched deeply in the emerald glow shining from down below.

“And yet,” he said, cocksure and cavalier, “my hands remain uncuffed.”

Though Maria looked away with a frustrated shake of her head, Fury’s eyes stayed locked on Norman’s — hardening with each passing second.

Norman raised an eyebrow at him, and left it at that.

“Mr. Osborn, we need to go.” Sanford gestured down the hallway as opposed to touching his client, his exhaustion clear as day in his voice. “Preferably before you say something that will get you arrested.”

Though Norman looked displeased to turn his back on both SHIELD directives, he did just that, ensuring his gaze was the last thing to depart. The ill-lit laboratory was unkind to the frown on his face, aging him far older than the forty-four year old man he was.

Fury relished in that as both men began to make their exit out the same entrance they’d come from.

“Better listen to him,” Fury called out, twisting at his hips to watch them leave. “I keep a pair of handcuffs in my back pocket. Just in case.”

Norman’s steps ground to a halt as if the earth itself had decided to hold him in place. His lawyer had already passed through the doorway leading out into the hallways, but he stood alone — Norman failed to make the exit alongside him.

“By all means, take this facility.” Norman’s tone was deadly calm as he turned on his heels, facing both agents head-on. His eyes flashed with a dangerous intensity as his voice dropped to a low, ominous cadence. “Take the five that come after it. The ten before it. SHIELD can seize everything OsCorp births to life and you still won’t deter my determination.”

With a thunderous gait, Norman strode forward, his steps ringing out like a drumbeat. He didn’t stop until there was barely an arms length between himself and Fury, leaving just enough space for him to point a stiff hand right at the directive.

“The government may have handed you back your toys, but I assure you, the world will turn on you and your lawless Avengers before you know it. The driving force you hold to your advantage won’t stay there for long. And when my studies produce soldiers far more superior than super, you’ll wish you hadn’t forced the cessation of my work — regardless of where and how it takes place.”

Fury met Norman’s stare with his own, neither man speaking for a long moment.

“Is that a threat?” Fury finally broke the silence, his tone as steely as the bunkers foundation.

For the beat that followed, the air grew thick with tension — to the point where even Maria stepped forward, pushing off the metal railing as if she needed to ensure her ears heard whatever came next.

“It’s nothing more than an observation,” Norman answered with a blasé shrug. He turned to Maria, watching as she crossed her arms over her chest, making sure to throw her a grin along the way. “You see, every participate in these trials, every single person who agreed to these studies — they all did so with the same mutual desire. Restoring the balance of power back to mankind.”

As he turned to face Fury, the grin that had moments ago lit up his face disappeared, replaced by a cold, hard expression. Even in the lab’s dim lighting, the contempt in his eyes was impossible to conceal.

“Your Almighty Captain, your Gods of Thunder — witches who blow up hundreds of innocent civilians across foreign land, undisclosed beings that fly in the sky with the light of the sun beaming from their head, exceeding any mass weapons of destruction the United States could ever obtain...no one organization, not even your wayward SHIELD, should hold so much power. The Avengers are a walking nuclear bomb waiting to explode and the dissolvement of the Accords will be the prelude to what could possibly be total world destruction.” Norman’s jaw set in determination, and his gaze shifted from one agent to the other, almost daring them to interrupt him. When they didn’t, he arched an eyebrow high up his forehead — wordlessly challenging them both. “Unless, of course, someone intervenes.”

Fury’s one eye narrowed until it was just a thin slit. “And who do you propose that be? You?”

For a brief moment, Norman said nothing. He used the pause to look over his shoulder, intently watching the few men who remained disperse into groups, taking with them only what they could carry in their hands.

“Your vindication is riddled with hypocrisy,” he sneered, languidly but sharply turning his gaze back ahead. With a hard sniff, Norman squared his shoulders, raising his chin slightly with an air of unwavering conviction. “But I promise you, it’s short lived. SHIELD has reigned supereminent long enough. It’s time that the inclusion of mans evolution with superhuman advancement be disseminated, and I assure you both, I have no plans to stop until that power is equal to us all.”

Maria opened her mouth to speak.

Fury barked out a laugh before she could utter a single syllable.

“You don’t really want the world to have collective power, Osborn!” he belittled the spiel with ease, taunting Norman as each laugh grew louder and more derisive. The sounds echoed in the large room. “You want it all for yourself! You’re after a dictatorship.”

Fury's laughter gradually tapered into a series of chuckles before eventually dying down completely, leaving behind his usual hardened expression in its place.

“And if that means manipulating some mutated puppets until you reach your goal, then that's exactly what you’ll do.” Fury met his gaze head-on, and didn’t so much as blink in the process. “You’ll sell them any promise of power you can throw together in a laboratory, without ever telling them that they’re just tools for you to use — bodies that you’ll trample over to get higher up the hill.”

Calmly and stoically, Norman clasped both hands behind his back, leaning forward on the balls of his feet until he reached an uncomfortably close proximity to Fury.

“And tell me, Nicholas…” The corner of his lip twitched into a smile. “How are you any different?”

The lights from down below shut off, one at a time, signaling the end to an abrupt and forced evacuation that was finally reaching completion. It only brightened the glow from the chamber left behind, the green substance inside sickeningly intense in the departure of fluorescent bulbs.

It struck the side of Norman’s face, staying there in the absence of movement.

If Fury had any response, it didn’t escape the scowl that pressed his lips thin and tight. The stillness in the room was deafening, carrying with it an overpowering aura of simmering animosity.

It was a sigh that cut through the silence, heavy and tired, and downright exasperated.

“Well…” Still standing in the doorway, Sanford gestured apathetically ahead of him. “It’s a good thing we’re under international waters. Because all of that was very condemning.” He didn’t wait for anyone to respond, already down the hallway as he called out, “Mr. Osborn — leave, now.”

The three words echoed in the corridor as the lawyer took off. Norman remained still for a moment, his hands passively entwined behind his back and a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Finally, he took a few steps back and gave a tight nod before pivoting on his heels and walking away, leaving only the sound of his footsteps to mark his departure.

Maria didn’t waste a second once she was sure Norman was gone before speaking.

“He’s up to something.”

Fury gave a sardonic huff as he pushed himself forward, heading for the same exit up ahead.

“No shit,” he said, departing the lab in the opposite way of Norman and his remaining OsCorp staff. Their heavy footsteps, from both sides of the corridors, could’ve been bombs echoing down the halls. “It’s all a matter of what.”

The hallways took them back to the glass curtains, the exterior of the bunker showing the ocean life right alongside the submarine stationed outside, parked in a bed of seaweed that swayed under the current.

Fury reached inside his jacket and retrieved a small button, pressing the center and bringing that same submarine to life.

“Let’s move,” he instructed, pocketing the device back inside his jacket as the lights from the submarine cut through the dark blue water, highlighting every bit of seaweed surrounding it. “I wouldn’t put it past them to shut off life support systems while we’re still down here.”

Maria kept up with his pace as they quickly made for the exits.

“You sure we can’t go through with demolition, sir? Could always just say it was an accident.” Her words were laced with subtle innuendo as she tried to convey the unspoken through her tone. When Fury failed to indicate any response — saying more without words than if he’d spoken at all — Maria relented on a small sigh. “I get that it’s property, but it also feels like a big liability leaving it behind.”

The lights behind them shut off one at a time, almost falling in sync to the beat of their footsteps. If they lost speed even momentarily, they would’ve been left in total darkness.

“Osborn may get to keep this piece of shit Raft predecessor, but even he knows coming back down here will be career suicide,” Fury said, right as they came to a dead end in the hallway. Without a second thought, he reached above him for the ladder leading up to the hatch. It dropped down with ease. “It may just be a scare static, but it’s a damn good one — and he goddamn knows it, too.”

Using both hands to grasp the ladder’s rungs, Fury pulled himself up, not once looking behind him at Maria when he spoke. “At thirteen-hundred-feet under the ocean, these walls will rot away before anyone steps foot down here again.”

While Fury entered the vestibule of the submarine first, Maria followed closely behind him, pulling herself up the ladder and taking his hand for help once he got himself settled inside.

“I’m feeling sushi,” she joked, pushing herself off the last step of the ladder and brushing the dust off her knees afterwards. “What about you?”

The hatch shut behind her with a resounding thud, the sound echoing throughout the bunker’s empty halls without a soul left behind to hear its closure.

⌜ Meanwhile

Upstate, New York

Avengers Compound ⌝

Flashes of lights punctuated the press room in staccato rhythm as journalists and photographers worked desperately to capture the moment in front of them.

“Well, with a crowd like this…” Pepper’s smile was highlighted by the camera’s flickering bulbs as she gave a soft laugh, “how can I say no?”

Down on one knee with a ring between his thumb and forefinger, Tony whipped his head towards the abundance of media personnel with breakneck speed.

“Is that a yes?” he asked the room, filled to the rim with bodies — far too crowded to turn his attention to one individual person. “Someone tell me that’s a yes.”

From the thick of the crowd, a reporter shouted loudly over the wild camera shutters, “That’s a yes, Mr. Stark!”

The entire room erupted into a slew of different sounds, “Congratulations!” shouting from left and right, accompanied by the blunt clapping of hands in different unison.

Tony’s gaze remained steadfast on Pepper as he rose from his knee, standing up straight while effortlessly slipping the ring onto her finger. He pulled her closer to him with the same fluid grace, the lines around his eyes wrinkling as Pepper’s smile brought out the freckles on her face.

“Can’t believe you’ve had that thing for eight years,” Pepper said, her voice soft and barely audible over the excitement of the crowd, but her body close enough to his that she didn’t need to raise her voice.

“Eight years too many.” Tony’s grin stretched to both his ears as he clasped Pepper’s hand in his, holding it close to his chest and bridging any distance that may have separated them.

The crowd erupted with even more fervor as Tony leaned in for a kiss, their excitement igniting the room into more cheers and claps. Even after their lips parted, he lingered close to her, savoring the gentle touch of her nose against his and the mingling of her perfume in the air.

“I love you, Pep,” he whispered, too softly for anyone but them to hear.

Pepper’s nose crinkled as she smiled in return. “I love too—”

“What about the Accords!”

A reporter boisterously interrupted the moment, his shout breaking through the storm of camera shutters that filled the press room.

“What’s the arrangement now, with the Avengers, with the Accords being dismantled?” Another reporter chimed in with a hurried tone.

“Will we be seeing Cap back at the compound anytime soon?” A third voice added to the mix.

“Any response to reports of Natasha Romanoff being spotted here last week, Mr. Stark?” Another reporter asked, leaning forward in the crowd of people to get Tony's attention.

“What about Spider-Man!”

Tony’s ears perked up as he honed in on the voice, effortlessly cutting through the noise of questions spewing from the crowd.

“Who said that?” In a split second, Tony released his hold on Pepper’s hand and directed an accusatory finger towards the press, his eyes sweeping back and forth to find the source. The finger paused, hovering over the middle of the crowd. “You. What did you say — you say Spider-Man?”

The room fell silent, and the cameras’ clicks and flashes ceased, with fewer shutters sounding and fewer bulbs flashing.

Heads slowly began to swivel in the direction of Tony’s finger, where a middle-aged man stood center of them all, his press badge prominently displayed on his crisp white button-up shirt. His photo ID was different than his face — in his picture, he wasn’t wearing glasses. In front of Tony, he wore thick black frames that caught the reflection of the lights filling the room.

“An inside source of mine leaked information revealing that this press conference was called in regards to a new member of the Avengers,” the man began to say, undaunted by the finger that continued to point in his direction. “Queens Spider-Man, no?”

The cacophony of voices, shuffling feet, and clicking cameras abruptly stopped. An anticipatory silence fell over the room, charged with a strong electricity.

“When will we get to know more about your latest creation?” the reporter went on to ask.

It was a good thing Tony had years of experience living in the public eye. Always under constant scrutiny of the media, his poker-face remained neutral even as the question burned his ears red hot.

“Latest crea —?” Tony noticeably frowned, unable to finish the sentence without a sour taste coating his tongue. He took a step forward, narrowing his eyes to better see the reporters name badge. “Swing that by me again, Mr...Urich?”

The room’s attention swiftly shifted towards the middle-aged man, his unruly locks swept back from his forehead, revealing a single eyebrow raised so high it nearly reached into his hairline.

“Ben. Ben Urich,” he announced, his Brooklyn accent seemingly thicker as he went on to talk. “And there’s been no shortage of rumors that the Spider-Man we done seen working vigilantism in Queens is a product of yours. My inside source, while only an wacked rumor, makes sense if you’re trying to bring him onboard. Work him a bit in the lower class towns first, breed a symbol of hope and support for the average Joe. Then inaugurate his membership when your image is at its worst — and no offense but it currently is, what with the United Nations reluctantly handing control back to SHIELD despite the numerous protests the Avengers remain under government jurisdiction.” Ben wagged his pen in the air, swinging it along with his words. “It’s the perfect marketing strategy, combined with the obvious indication that Tony Stark created him. It’s been caught multiple times on camera that Spider-Man is clearly wearing Stark tech. Not for nuttin’ but you have to pardon my belief in the speculation.”

Tony’s expression slipped, if only for a moment, with a deep furrow creasing his brow along the way. It wasn’t until Pepper discreetly laid an open palm against the small of his back that he recovered.

“Speculation is correct,” Tony damped the flare in his voice, letting his poise take over instead. “You pay good money for that gossip?”

A few camera shutters sounded in the pause that followed, with some hushed voices whispering near the back of the room — most of which Tony noticed belonged to SHIELD security and his own Stark Industries personnel.

“If it were a commodity, sure, but it ain’t nothing the whole world don’t already know,” Ben responded, his notepad and pen held at the ready, as if prepared to take notes on every word that spilled from Tony’s lips. For what he wouldn’t write down in time, the small digital recorder dangling from his lanyard would certainly handle. “It’s been almost four months now Spider-Man’s been seen wearing Stark tech. That facts indicate that Spider-Man is the brainchild of Tony Stark’s, the association between the two —”

“Ah-ah, let’s get something straight, Benny-Boy,” Tony quickly, and firmly, interrupted. “The association between between those two starts, and ends, with the supply of tech. Your ‘wacked rumors’ —” Tony suddenly turned to face Pepper. “Is that what he called it? Wacked rumors?”

Pepper closed her eyes with a restrained sigh and an even more restrained, “Oh, good lord.”

With a sharp pivot, Tony refocused his attention on the crowd. “Whatever you call them — they’re rumors. And they can stay rumors, capiche?”

Ben used his index finger to push the bridge of his glasses up his nose.

“The proof is in the print, Mr. Stark. Not to mention it’s been widely circulated among the media outlets, and the social media buzz it’s generated has been practically nonstop,” he pointed out, meeting Tony’s cocky expression with his own. “The public’s eating it up. Tony Stark creates the next generation of superheroes, Queens Spider-Man seen working with creator Iron Man — everyone’s been talking about your latest creation —”

“Clickbait and sensationalism, Mr. Urich,” Tony coolly dismissed, nonchalantly throwing his hand out in Ben’s general direction. “Judging by your smokers lines, I’d say you’ve been doing this gig for a while now, hm? Shouldn’t you know better? Or do you need a reminder of what reputable journalism looks like?”

Ben’s lack of verbal response was compensated with a disbelieving look, one that spoke volumes. And he wasn’t the only one with doubts; the skepticism was contagious.

One by one, reporters turned to look at Tony with avid interest.

Tony considered it a feat he didn’t roll his eyes on camera, and even more of a feat that he met their looks of curiosity with a charming smile and a slight shrug of his shoulders — throwing on an act like it was second nature.

“Hate to break it to you, but there’s no story here. There’s no brainchild, there’s no creation. Spider-Man — he’s his own guy, doing his own thing.” A moment hung in the air like a suspended note as Tony clamped and unclamped his jaw, his mind churning as he formed the words that came next. “The Stark tech he’s been given — that doesn’t make him who he is. If that tech was gone tomorrow, he’d still find a way to do what he does. Honest to God truth, I had nothing to do with the existence of Spider-Man — and you can quote me on that, Mr. Urich.”

Ben cocked an eyebrow with incredulity, his pen frozen mid-scratch on his notepad. “Then I gotta ask, why provide him with the Stark tech in the first place?”

Tony gave the crowd a comical look.

“Have you seen how high he swings through New York city? Monkeys in a barrel have nothing on him!”

There was a bit of laughter that followed Tony’s response. He used the moment of levity to his advantage, literally waving off the mounting curiosity with a flick of his hand.

“Anyone like Spider-Man, they deserve to do what they do safely,” he said with a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’d be criminal not to share my cool toys with him, don’t you think?”

As Ben jolted something down on his notepad, a voice from behind him perked up, “So you support vigilantism then, Mr. Stark?”

That time, Tony couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. And the cameras ate it up.

“Vigilantism — what a stupid word.” He gave an exasperated huff, his gaze quickly growing annoyed at the flashing camera bulbs. “Come on! What happened to Good Samaritans, to helping your neighbor?” Tony pointed a finger to the crowd, though it didn’t aim at anyone in particular. “You know, this is exactly why the Accords fell apart — the moment you restrict people from being a decent human being without facing criminal charges and suddenly no one will rise to the occasion.”

Tony shook his head with indignation, even as he turned and caught sight of Pepper — her scorching gaze hot enough to melt through every one of his Iron Man suits. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the fiery spirit that had earned her the name Pepper in the first place.

Still, he kept talking — because that’s what he had a tendency to do at these press conferences. Cue-cards or not.

“You wanna make a difference in this world? You wanna make change, have impact? I’ll be the first to tell you, it’s not doing what I do. That vigilante you wanna talk about — Spider-Man? People like Spider-Man…” Tony’s gaze wandered away from the crowd, his growing frustration threatening to shatter his facade.

Working for a distraction, he found the windows lining the press room, where the sun from outside the building hit the glass just right.

He kept his eyes there, even as he spoke.

“There’s no job too small for Spider-Man,” Tony went on to say, his tone softening with each word spoken. “He’ll get to a robbery long before NYPD even get the call, saving the life of your local bodega owner before some lowlife with a pistol makes a quick five hundred bucks. And then, guess what — he’ll go walk your daughter home at night when her friends leave her behind, making sure she gets there safely. Spider-Man helps old ladies cross the street, he stops runaway cars, even retrieves lost balloons for crying children. You name it, he’s done it. What the Avengers do — sure, we’ll stop a crisis when it rears its ugly head, but people like Spider-Man? He keeps your neighborhood safe, he keeps the people safe. What we do pales in comparison to that.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed slightly as the sun swelled through the clouds, catching onto the car that began to pull away from the entrance of the compound.

“Everything about him, everything he does — the good, the great, for every person that’s out there who needs help…” As he spoke, Tony’s eyes glinted with a steely resolve, his words ringing with a sense of purpose.

The pause that followed allowed enough time for the press to snap a few unwanted and most certainty unflattering photos. There was no telling what nonsense the tabloids would throw together from that moment alone, but Tony didn’t care.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the crowd as he watched the Audi drive away on the long stretch of road outside the compound, shrinking in size as it picked up speed.

Finally, when the car had vanished completely from sight, Tony cleared his throat, his expression shifting to a halfhearted smile as he turned back to face the reporters — poised as ever.

“He’s a hero, not a vigilante,” Tony firmly finished, punctuating it with a pointed finger aimed at the crowd for emphasis. “And the world needs more heroes like him. Not like me, not like Cap. At the end of the day, even if I had created him, Spider-Man’s simply too good for the Avengers.”

As Ben went to scribble something else on his notepad, Tony quickly and loudly snapped his fingers, getting the reporters attention — along with a few other heads that shot up at the sound.

“But put it on the record, Mr. Urich, I did not create Spider-Man,” Tony’s voice was steady and confident as he looked Ben straight in the eye — who slowly started to pocket away his pen and notepad, opting instead to give Tony his undivided attention. “Greatness like Spider-Man...you can’t manufacture that.”

“He’s a menace!”

Any follow-up Ben may have wanted to say was drowned out by the boisterous shout that erupted from the back of the room.

“Did you see what he did to the Washington monument, not to mention that ferry bus!” There was no mistaking the source of the yelling as Jonah Jameson cut through the crowd, the only thing higher than his raised arm being his voice — practically screeching with each word. “He’s a criminal, a terror to society, no different than you and your gang of super-powered freaks —!”

“Who let the Bugle in?” Tony spun on his heels, looking to the security surrounding them with furrowed eyebrows. “Seriously, I thought we had real reporters here, not bloggers. Don’t we have standards?”

Pepper’s, “Oh, good lord!” was definitely heard that time around as she snapped her fingers for her publicist, the two of them already mouth-to-ear as they rushed to contain the situation.

It did nothing to stop Jonah, who would’ve needed someone to tackle him to the ground if there was any chance at stopping him.

“Spider-Man’s caused nothing but havoc to the good people of New York —!”

“He saves cats from trees!” Tony’s shout easily overlapped his.

Jonah brandished a finger to the front of the room. “He nearly killed over three hundred passengers on that ferry —!”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous!” Tony kept going over him, loudly. “The FBI declassified the crime report almost immediately and it shows, clear as day, Adrian Toomes being the sole transgressor for the Staten Island incident —”

“Well all know Spider-Man was in cahoots with that crazy bird maniac!” Jonah shouted back.

It wasn’t physically possible for Tony’s face to contort any harder. “Tell me, Jameson, how is the Daily Bugle still printing and selling lies after all these years?”

Even from deep in the crowd, Tony could make out the large vein that began to swell across Jonah’s forehead, nearly as big as the finger he shook in the air.

“I resent that!”

Tony met that finger with his own. “It’s libel, no?”

“It is not!” Jonah bit back. His hand suddenly dropped, smacking against his side. “In print, it’s libel. Slander is spoken.”

Tony didn’t have a chance to toss a rebuttal — a reporter roughly stepped in front of Jonah, their microphone far ahead of them to try and reach the front.

“Are the Accords truly dismantled, Mr. Stark?”

The question stirred the cameras into a frenzy, desperate to capture the moment if an answer came from Tony’s lips — flashes of light suddenly lit the room ablaze, causing Pepper and her publicist to turn back to the crowd, thrown by a loop at the sudden change of topic.

“Is it true Cap will be moving back in!” A woman near the back had to shout over the commotion.

“Are the Avengers still a team!” Another voice tried to break through. “Is that what Spider-Man is about, are you training for your replacements?”

“People! People! People!” Tony roughly reached over their clamor, raising his voice to do so. Even as he kept speaking, they kept asking questions over him. “That is not what this moment is about! This lovely lady was just proposed to and you’re out here to ruin the mood —” Tony spun on his heels, shooing Pepper out the door with both his hands. “Pepper, honey, hurry now, before the cameras catch you tears —”

Pepper smacked one of those hands away.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming out,” Pepper said in lieu of acknowledging Tony, turning to the crowd with a smile too tight to be genuine. “Your curiosity regarding the Avengers is understandable, it’s been an exciting few months for them. Unfortunately, SHIELD does enact NDA’s. We’ll speak about it when we can, and you all will be the first to hear from us.”

When the questions kept coming, Pepper used the next best thing she could to silence them — she raised her hand in the air, showing off the diamond now glistening from her finger.

“Until that day comes, it looks like I have a wedding to plan.”

There wasn’t a single camera in the room that didn’t go off, and Tony used Pepper’s quick thinking for a moment of distraction to whip out his glasses, shielding his eyes from the lights with his yellow tinted frames.

Yet even as Pepper worked to entertain the photographers with a photo op of her shining Harry Winston, reporters kept tossing out their questions — clearly desperate to use the press event as a way to get answers that could be sold for thousands.

“Is there anything you can tell us about the arrangements with SHIELD—”

“What will living situations be? Ms. Potts, do you plan to permanently reside at the Avenger’s compound, or is Malibu calling your name again?”

“Mr. Stark! Was Natasha Romanoff seen at the compound last week —”

“You’re all hearing it first,” Pepper raised her voice to cut through their multitude of questions, not resisting her bodyguard when he started guiding her in the direction of the exit. “And we’re so excited to have shared this once-in-a-lifetime moment with you. So glad this is how it went. Truly, fantastic. Thank you, everyone.”

Tony resisted the urge to laugh at Pepper’s sarcasm and instead made a mental note to have her favorite wine delivered tonight — it was the least she deserved after all this, and certainly the least he could do.

He whipped out his phone to do just that when he caught sight of her security detail already escorting her to the door.

“Give it a month, people!” Tony pocketed his phone away as he shot the crowd a wink, quickly making large strides towards the exit — more than happy to depart alongside her. “No more than two, three if she can’t settle on a dress!”

As Tony reached the doorway, he spun on his heels, wagging his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of where Pepper awalked away.

“And you all know this one, she cannot decide on what to wear, am I right?”

The laughter was less plentiful from the crowd that time around, the photographers and reporters too busy packing up equipment to pay much attention.

Still, Tony kept talking.

Because that’s what he had a tendency to do at these press conferences.

The cue-cards never worked.

“Wedding invitations will go out tomorrow, RSVP quickly!” Tony walked through the threshold of the doorway only to pop back in, giving a lazy twizzle of his index finger across the crowd. “You’re all invited — except you, J.J. Go fly a kite.”

Pepper’s voice could be heard all the way out in the hallway. “Tony, for the love of —!”

“Don’t blink! You’ll miss it!” Tony’s voice carried out with him as the door to the press room slowly closed shut with their departure. “We’ll be hitched before you know it!”

⌜ One Year Later

October, 2017

Present Day ⌝

“FRIDAY!” Tony clapped his hands twice as he all but leaped across the workshop, sparing no ounce of energy along the way. “Let’s go, sweetheart, it’s hardware time!”

It was nothing short of a miracle that FRIDAY heard him, what with the way music thundered from every corner of the room. Which was appropriate for the song currently blasting through the surround sound, AC/DC’s Thunder Struck echoing against the walls with enough volume to rip the compound in half.

“Alright, neural network installed and running at full capacity,” Tony rattled off, speaking aloud for his own benefit — though if he could even hear his own voice was up for debate. “Multimodal augmentations at slight field variance. Nanometers passed every algorithmic calculation — because of course they did, my math is never wrong.”

Tony eagerly hopped onto the circular platform stationed center of his workshop, plating both feet firmly in place once there.

“I’d say you’re long overdue for a test trial, my dear.” With both hands interlaced, Tony pushed his arms outward and crackled his knuckles — the music, once again, stealing the noise away.

Disentangling those same hands, he pulled his elbows back in, tapping his fingers against the housing unit sealed onto his chest.

It was hard to tell what caused the tingling vibrations running through his toes, into his calves, and across his kneecaps. It could’ve very well been the blasting bass from the music overhead, casting into the walls and rumbling onto the floors of his workshop. Or for all he knew it was his giddy schoolboy excitement, building into a crescendo that had him jittery with anticipation.

Whatever the cause, Tony didn’t let it lessen his smile.

“Come on, baby, you got this!” Tony watched enthusiastically as the arc reactor lit to light, filling the workshop with a blue glow that grew brighter with time. “Come on, come on…come on!”

It took a beat, and what Tony swore was a few missed beats of his heart along with it, but there was no mistaking when the housing unit released the nanites. Within seconds they poured out, all at once, tiny particulars working in tandem to form over the structure of his body.

The spark from each microscopic piece of red and gold shimmered underneath the workshop lights, coalescing around him with an animation only outmatched by Tony’s exhilaration.

“Yes!” The nanites hadn’t even reach past Tony’s hips when he cheered — and he didn’t stop with just one shout. He kept going. “Yes, YES, that’s what I’m talking about!”

The air crackled with energy as the nanobots worked at lightning speed, and Tony’s body was surrounded by a glowing aura of light as the suit began to take shape; sleek and streamlined, with glowing repulsor beams in the palms of his gauntlets.

His laugh easily reached over the music.

“Tony!”

And so did that.

Tony shot his head up, his grin so large his back molars caught the ceiling lights. It didn’t fade, not even as Pepper came storming into the workshop, bursting through the automatic doors before they’d fully parted for her.

“Oh my god!” Pepper practically screamed against the blaring music, immediately smothering both palms against her ears to protect her hearing. “Tony, what are you doing!?”

Tony threw Pepper a bewildered look.

“What does it look like I’m doing!” he shouted right back, the nanites still building around the length of his legs as he gestured enthusiastically to himself. “I’m re-building the nanosuit!”

For once, not even the usual sound of Pepper’s high-heels clicking against the floor could be heard. She stormed forward with enough frustration in her step that it should’ve rattled the whole earth, but each stomp was muted underneath the bass of the music.

“You’re what!?”

Tony gestured even more enthusiastically to himself.

“The nanosuit!” He paused. “Bleeding Edge?” Another pause, and Tony made a face. “I told you about this, we talked about this! It’s nanotech! Each piece works on a molecular surface-bound level — check this out!”

Tony turned at the hips, and then again on the other side, motioning to the nanites that covered his body with a polished shine. His grin blew wide open as he admired his work.

“It’s taken some time to reconstruct all the nanites from scratch, but since I made sure to copy the blueprints after dismantling Mark 37 for complete magnetic use when Ivan the Terrible forced us to —”

“What!?” Pepper interrupted him with a shout that was more of a scream than anything else.

Tony shot his head up, frowning.

“What part of that didn’t you understand?” Tony guessed the answer based off Pepper’s expression. “The nanosuit? The one I took apart to get Parker back from — did you hear anything I said?”

“I can’t hear you!” Pepper shook her head so vigorously that her ponytail came loose. “I can’t — Tony, turn down the —!”

“FRIDAY, turn down volume.”

Dutiful as ever, his AI complied at the request immediately, lowering the soundtrack of rock music to a near-muted volume.

It became so quiet, so suddenly, that the sound of Pepper’s frustration was audible with each huff of air that blew right through her flared nostrils.

Tony hopped off the platform, pointing a lax finger towards her.

“You looked stressed.” Even as Tony walked towards her, the nanites kept building around his body, already creeping up along the edges of his neck. “You stressed?”

Pepper gaped, staring him down with a look that he tried often not to be on the receiving end of.

“Am I — yes, Tony, I’m stressed!” Despite the lack of blaring music, Pepper still yelled. “The wedding is in two weeks! And you’re down here being...being…” As Tony closed in on Pepper, she brushed right past him, physically jostling his shoulder and sparking a light against the nanites still forming against his arm. “Well...you!”

It was only when Pepper met the center of the workshop that she stopped. Her heels suddenly dug into the ground as she pointed straight ahead to one of the many glass cases that held his multitude of suits.

“Since when did Iron Man start wearing purple?”

Tony jogged up to her, almost leaping forward to intercept her view.

“Ah-ah!” Spreading both arms out in front of him, Tony tried to block the case from being seen as he teased, “That’s a wedding present, you can’t see that.”

If Pepper rolled her eyes any harder, Tony worried they may not return.

“Tony, what have you been doing?”

It was Tony’s turn to gape, and like all things, he went above and beyond in doing it.

“Working!” he defended, gesturing an open arm at his surroundings as if that further cleared things up.

Pepper shot him a scorching glare, and there was no doubt about it — Tony was officially on the receiving end of that look. The one so hot, it earned the woman her namesake.

“This is good, I had time for this!” Tony’s hands gestured wildly up and down the length of his body. “We needed this, after something like Venom —”

“Two weeks!” Pepper spun on her heels, pacing across the opposite end of the workshop as she threw her hands up into the air. “Do you know how tempted I am to retract the invitations that you abruptly sent out while you were in Wakanda?”

“Uh-uh, no —” Tony spun around to face her, and then spun again when he turned the wrong direction the first time. “We are not post-poning this again, it’s already been over a year —”

“We still have to select the catering menu, find an officiant, I haven’t even had a second to consider writing vows —” If Pepper heard him, she chose to ignore him, her heels clacking against the floor as she paced purposelessly across the workshop. “Oh, and how could I forget, half the guests are going to need transportation to the church since its in the middle of New York city —”

Tony’s face twisted in a bunch. “What’s wrong with the city?”

Pepper suddenly stopped pacing, turning to look him head-on with look of utter bafflement.

“My family is from Virginia, Tony!” The pause that followed did nothing but sound crickets. Pepper’s expression grew even more baffled. “You booked a church in Midtown Manhattan!”

Tony gestured his arm towards her. “I thought you’d like that!”

For being the only one of them who had heart problems, Tony was almost positive Pepper’s was about to give out from the stress alone. In fact, the more he looked at her and he wondered if she’d ever appeared this stress before — post Vanko included.

“It’s not just about me though!” Pepper exclaimed, already at the furthest end of the workshop before she’d finished speaking. “There’s dietary restric—”

“Nonsense,” Tony seamlessly interrupted, casually but cautiously making his way back to the center platform, ensuring his eyes stayed on Pepper the entire time. “You’re the bride, it’s all about you.”

“There’s dietary restrictions to consider,” Pepper firmly continued, “safety concerns, keeping people away from,” she gestured broadly at the workshop, “this!”

With a dismissive hand, Tony waved off the concerns.

“Private event. I already told you that, I already assured you that.” He hoped back onto the platform, his feet rooting into place no sooner than the nanites began to retract back into the housing unit. “No photographers, no press, no paparazzi. Friends, family —that’s it. Everything’s gunna go off without a hitch, I solemnly swear — see, I’m multitasking! Working on the nanosuit and practicing vows — two birds, one stone, what more can you ask for?”

The faint mechanical whirring of nanobots withdrawing back into their containment device momentarily filled the room. As the sleek and polished armor slowly began to disperse off Tony’s skin, Pepper let the pause that followed hold the entirety of her bewilderment.

And then it blew right out of her mouth.

“Midtown Manhattan, Tony!” she all but shouted, briefly reaching out to him with clenched fists before reluctantly dropping them back down at her sides. Every second after was a second she willed her patience to come into play. “How the hell are you going to keep this a private event in Midtown Manhattan—!”

“Pep, Pep—”

“My parents can’t even drive upstate, how are they going to make it to the city—!”

“Pepper.”

As the nanites finished retreating back into the housing unit on his chest, Tony leaped off the platform, sauntering towards her as suave as ever.

She didn’t seem impressed by his charisma. But yet again, she hardly ever was.

“It’ll happen, it’ll all get done,” he promised her, reaching out for both her hands with his bare palms, his calloused skin the only barrier between them. The housing unit on his chest still glowed bright, but the suit was gone — swallowed up by the nabla shaped device. “You need to let the wedding planner focus on this stuff and just…”

Tony took a deep breath in, squeezed her hands, and smiled.

“Relax,” he said, the word spoken in a single exhale.

Though Pepper didn’t pull away from Tony's grasp, she also didn’t reciprocate his grin. If anything, her face quickly became a mess of worry lines, the telltale marks of stress and tension creating creases where there were none before.

“Relax?” she repeated, incredulously.

Tony gave a firm nod. “Relax.”

Pepper opened her mouth to speak, her neck swelling with a shout that didn’t make it past her throat — Tony swiftly interjected.

“Relax,” he said again, giving both her hands another squeeze. There was no denying that the second time around, a bit of tension bled off her shoulders. When he noticed, his grin stretched further across his lips, radiating warmth and encouragement. “Take a deep breath…”

Tony’s chest expanded as he drew in a deep, cleansing breath. He held her gaze steadily, his eyes unwavering even as the seconds passed.

“And relax,” he finished in a soothe, gentle tone.

Pepper maintained eye contact with Tony for a moment longer. The incredulity on her face remained — no surprise, she was a stubborn woman — but it didn’t intensify, either.

For Tony, that was a win.

“Take my lead, c’mon,” his voice dropped to a near-whisper as he used the hold on both her hands to bring her closer. Her heels stuttered against the floor as bridged she distance between them, so close that the silk of her blouse pressed up against the housing unit on his chest.

“Deep breath in…” Tony encouraged, the inhale that followed louder than his voice. He purposefully waited until Pepper mimicked his movements before saying, “deep breath out.”

Pepper did just that.

Sensing the release of tension from her body, Tony leaned in closer, his forehead coming to rest gently against hers.

The weight of the world fell away as both they found themselves lost in the moment, their exhales tangling together with the scent of alloy metals and palladium. The tranquility washed over them in a soothing, undulating rhythm, like the ebb and flow of the tides.

“Relax.” Tony gave her a kiss on the lips with a smile that followed suit, and this time, Pepper reciprocated — the knots in her muscles finally loosening their clenched hold.

“Have you even been preparing for your hearing on Wednesday?” Pepper went on to ask him, ignoring the way Tony nuzzled her earlobe in every way he knew was her weakness. “Or have you been down here neck deep in...lavender scented Iron Man armor?”

Tony’s words were muffled as he kept his mouth close to her skin. “It’s not lavender scented — but that’s a good idea.”

Abruptly, Pepper pulled away.

“Tony.”

“What!” Tony didn’t try to reach for Pepper’s hands again after she yanked them away. Her namesake, after all, existed for a reason.

“Your litigation against OsCorp?” Pepper looked at him, dumbfounded. “Did you forget about that?”

Tony titled his head with a smirk. “You’re not my assistant anymore, Pepper, you don’t need to follow my calendar to the tee.”

Pepper met that smirk with her own.

“As your soon to be wife, I’ll always be your assistant.”

Tony couldn’t help the soft chuckle that followed — a fight with Pepper was never a fight he’d win; he found that out a long time ago. She was good, she was always good. Trying to change things now would be idiotic — and if there was one thing Tony Stark didn’t do, it was idiotic.

“I didn’t forget. About any of it.” Tony reached into his back pocket, whipping out his cell phone and making quick swipes of his finger against the touch screen. “Pick one of everything for the catering menu, better to have and not need and et cetera, et cetera. FRIDAY’s already reaching out to transportation services, she’ll have something — ah, done. Perfect.” He pocketed the phone away with a flash of a grin. “And worse case scenario, Rhodey’s ordained — long story, spring break ‘87, he swore he’d never let me live it down. If it comes down to the wire and we can’t find someone to officiant, there’s always him.”

Pepper threw him a look.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you avoided mentioning the case disposition in all that.”

Tony returned that look with his own.

“It’s handled, it’s my primary point of concern,” he insisted. When Pepper’s expression didn’t change, he flung his arm out towards her in a gesture. “Who else better to lead this case than the top guy at the Weapons Procurement Liaison Department? Rhodey’s got this in the bag, now that we’ve lingered on their computer servers long enough, we have enough evidence that the courts will have no other choice but to finally go after OsCorp. Everything’s going to go off without a hitch. The trial, the wedding, the honeymoon—” Tony’s waggling eyebrows was met with Pepper’s eye-roll. “All of it. I promise.”

The sigh that blew through Pepper’s lips could’ve been a wild gust of wind, one strong enough to knock Tony over from where he stood.

“Everything’s been hitching besides us,” she half-muttered, half groaned. Her index finger rubbed at her temple hard enough to leave a red mark. “I swear, if we have to put this off one more time — that’s it, we’re done. No wedding. We’ll go to city hall —”

“Pepper,” Tony barely held back his laugh, managing to hide it in his voice where Pepper absolutely heard it — and followed through with a glare.

“I’m serious, Tony,” her voice grew stern and sharp. “This is the third time now we’ve set a date—”

“Third times a charm,” Tony tried to reason.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Pepper easily steamrolled over him. “I won’t keep doing this — it’s too much, my body physically cannot handle the stress—”

“If you just let the wedding planner take care of it —” Tony, again, tried to reason.

“There’s been some kind of crisis every time we try and do this,” Pepper kept at it, “and I truly don’t think I can —”

“— not this time.” Tony quickly stepped forward, so suddenly Pepper didn’t expect the arm that wrapped around her waist.

She interrupted her own gasp with a heated look, quickly melted by the grin Tony threw her way — all teeth, all Stark charm.

“It’s happening, done deal, no more stalling.” Tony pulled her closer, even as she gave an exasperated huff. “Like it or not, you’ll be stuck with me. Til death do us part.”

Pepper’s reluctance could be seen all the way from where Stark Industries satellites floated in space, but with time, she let herself relax in his grasp.

It was impossible to deny that Tony’s smile did the trick — the kind of grin he kept close to his sleeve, never for the press or public to see. Only for those closest to him — those who got to see the real Tony, the one that only existed outside of money and fancy toys.

With a hesitant smile, Pepper pointed a firm finger against his chest — her long nails clacking against the housing unit embedded there.

“Stuck with you and your mad fits of mania where you spend days at a time working on new nanotech armor...just great.” Pepper rolled her eyes in a playful manner. “Who knows, maybe this one will actually get to see some use.”

Tony noticeably frowned with exaggerated offense.

“Hey, be nice. That last suit served its purpose, the magnetic reconstruction got my ass in and out of that bunker —”

“Yeah?” Pepper nodded ahead, motioning over his shoulder hard enough that bits of her hair fell into her face, her pony tail too loose to hold back the ginger locks. “And what about that one?”

Tony furrowed his brows deeply, craning his head over her shoulder to where she gestured.

The glass cabinets lined the walls of his workshop, no different than any other day — it was where he stored most of his Iron Man armor, after all. Each lined the walls in presentation, the different red and gold color schemes bringing a vibrant sense of life to the otherwise modern room, filled with gray steels and light blue holograms.

But there was no mistaking that the furthest case was different than the others.

Stationed against the furthest end of the workshop, the frosted glass obscured the contents inside from view. The only hint that something of significance resided within the cabinet was the unassuming 17-A label, positioned precisely at the center.

“He’ll use it. One day,” Tony finally said, the words hanging in the air with a heavy beat that nearly swallowed the conversation whole. “When he’s ready.”

Tony didn’t even need to be looking at Pepper to see her lift a doubtful eyebrow.

“When he’s ready?” she asked, the same heavy beat separating her words no differently than his. “Or when you’re ready?”

Tony wasn’t sure how long he stared at the glass cabinet, his gaze unwavering with such intensity that time seemed to warp and stretch around him. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes like hours, as he fixated on the 17-A label imprinted on the glass.

Eventually he blinked, and Tony swore for a moment he could still see the label superimposed on his vision, burned into his retinas like a beacon.

“Let me take a break,” he finally cut through the silence, his voice hitting like an anvil dropping on them both. He whipped his head back towards Pepper with a million dollar smile. “Catch some fresh air, maybe get some sunshine. I haven’t been to our quarters in a while, might take advantage of it while you’re here.”

Tony's smirk drowned with the unspoken and Pepper rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time since entering the workshop.

“Oh, yeah?” Pepper gave a lighthearted scoff. “Cause all you’ll be doing is picking out center pieces with me.”

Tony tightened his grip on her waist, using his other hand to reach around her back and slide through the loose ponytail that was barely holding on by its band.

“You’re tense,” he pointed out, his fingers working through her hair to reach her neck. The ponytail fell apart completely, but neither moved to put it back into its hold. “You need a massage.”

“I need you to be serious.” Not even Pepper could keep her look of indignance as Tony worked the muscles loose in her neck.

“I am,” Tony’s insistence was countered by grin plastered on his face. “I’m seriously going to de-stress you.”

Pepper managed a laugh that was far more tension ladened than humorous. As if she were a puppet with her strings cut, her head fell forward against Tony’s chest — only to whip back, her brows knitted with exasperation at the glass housing unit that left an imprint on her forehead.

“I just want this wedding over with,” Pepper grumbled, rubbing at the irritated skin of her forehead with a sigh.

Tony stopped her, clasping that same hand tightly into his.

“Don’t.” Bringing their hands to his mouth, Tony gave hers a kiss, lingering his lips against her knuckles for a long moment. “It’s going to be worth experiencing every second.”

Pepper opened her mouth to speak, right at the time the glass doors whooshed open behind her. Instead of her words sounding, the noise of tennis shoes screeching to a halt quickly filled the workshop.

“Oh — hey, you’re busy.” Peter threw his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the doors he’d just came running through. “Never mind. I’ll come back later.”

While Pepper only turned at the hips to better see the entryway, Tony’s head completely whipped over to the doors, his neck at a very real risk of breaking from the sheer force of whiplash. The sight of Peter tripping over a monkey wrench on his way out had his eyebrows working on their own accord, lifting and scrunching in every which direction.

“I can find someone else, it’s cool, there’s no problem,” Peter rambled, rapidly looking left and right as he back peddled to the doors. “I got this, no big deal, just gotta find a fire extinguisher real quick —”

It was Pepper who admonished, “Peter…”

Though the doors whooshed open again, Peter froze at the threshold once hearing Pepper speak his name; stopping so suddenly that his one foot was still lifted into the air to take the next step.

Instead of walking out, he spun around — more literally than anything else, balancing on a single foot until he regained balance and started taking quick strides into the workshop.

“You’re looking really great, Miss. Potts.” Peter came to a sudden stop halfway into the room. “Ms. Potts. Misses Potts?” He frowned as his head craned to the side. “Soon-to-be-Mrs. Stark?”

With both their hands still clasped, Tony swung his arm out towards Peter, bringing Pepper’s along with it.

“Flattery will get you absolutely nowhere with her,” he said, straight-faced and composed.

Pepper’s jaw hit the floor as she turned inward to face him.

“Are you kidding me?” she gaped, shaking off his hand with little resistance. “Do you hear yourself sometimes?”

“Jury’s out,” Tony quickly responded, snapping both his fingers Peter’s way. “Parker, speak now or forever hold your peace.” Just as quickly, Tony turned back to Pepper with a smirk. “See? Still multitasking.”

Pepper immediately returned to rubbing at her temple. “Tony, I swear...”

“You look stressed, Miss. Potts,” Peter spoke up, pointing a finger her way as he not-so-subtly back-traced his steps to the entrance, his back facing the doors but his head still looking around the workshop. “You know, May takes these candle lit baths whenever she’s stressed. Whole bathroom smells like a bakery afterwards. Maybe —”

“Peter.” Pepper wasn’t messing around that time. Her tone managed to speak five million different things while only uttering a single word.

Peter heard it all. And once again, he came to a sudden stop, his sneakers all but fusing into the workshop floors.

“Let me just say that, in all technicality, this isn’t my fault as much as it is FRIDAY’s —”

“Didn’t I tell you not to break anything?” Tony butted in, flabbergasted incredulity lining his every word. “Did you not hear me when I said that? I remember saying it — I was there.”

Peter threw his arm out in a gesture. “To be fair, I’m not entirely sure DUM-E is broken,” he tried to argue. The beat that followed stole away any defense he had. What came next, more-so. “But I definitely need a fire extinguisher.”

The sheepish smile that followed practically stole Peter’s lips away, pulling them so thin they became nonexistent.

With half of her smile obscured by the loose strands of ginger hair that fell in front of her face, Pepper craned her head towards Tony.

“See? Always a crisis,” Pepper’s voice held the laugh she was too tired to make. With a gentle push against Tony’s chest, she insisted, “Go, I can handle the center pieces.”

Tony laughed for her, leaning forward until his lips pressed against hers. Though the kiss was short lived, his close presence to her wasn’t — Tony couldn’t find it in him to pull away, staying against her long enough that she eventually wrapped a hand around the small of his back.

“I think we both need massages,” Pepper said, chuckling at the loud murmur of assent Tony made afterward.

He gave her one last peck on the lips before turning towards the doors and facing Peter head-on.

“Did I hear that right?” Tony didn’t wait for Peter to answer before making long, fast strides towards the entrance — he was practically there in six steps.

Peter spun around to watch him leave.

“Depends,” he said, his legs springing forward to catch up with Tony but stumbling as he tripped over the discarded monkey wrench for a second time. “What’d you hear?”

Tony threw Peter a look as he hop-skipped-hopped-skipped to regain his balance, narrowly succeeding in time to catch up with Tony right at the entryway.

“You’re telling me that you broke a thirty-year-old advance hydraulic piece of machinery that managed to survive the entire demolition of my Malibu Mansion, falling thousands of feet into the ocean after being shot apart by militarily grade missiles?” The glass doors parted for them both, and Tony momentarily paused in the threshold. “You broke that DUM-E?”

Peter paused with him, hesitating just long enough that Tony’s glare started to burn.

“Okay, first off all, in my defense — which is a good defense, if I say so myself —”

“Uh-uh. Zip it.” Tony was already gone, his voice carrying out with him into the hallways. “Everything you say from this point forward is just incriminating evidence to use against your wrong doings.”

As Tony took off, Peter bounded forward on the balls of his feet, taking an extra leap to propel himself up ahead.

“Okay, but hold on, Mr. Stark, I can explain!”

As they both took off, their voices dwindled with them out into the corridors, growing more faint with the passing time.

Pepper watched them leave with a shake of her head, her chuckles hidden beneath the mechanical whirring of the glass doors as they slid shut.