Chapter Text
“You know, I’ll never understand why people complain about having to be stuck with their children during the summer break,” said Tony, taking a sip of the pink cocktail he had been handed. He did not actually know what was inside of the drink that made it pink: all he knew was that it fit his summer aesthetic and it tasted alcoholic and good.
In the end, what else really mattered?
Agatha Harkness took a sip of her own cocktail – obviously and mysteriously purple – eyeing the beach around them from over the rim of her overly large – and purple – sunglasses. “As someone who has no kids, I don’t think I can offer an informed answer. But I’ll do it anyway: maybe their children are just not interesting and kill their vibes.”
“Maybe,” agreed Tony, watching Xialing, Harley and Nebula trying to drown one another. “Though I remain of the opinion that children are naturally interesting and their parents are the ones who are actually boring. I have never met a child who had nothing interesting and cool to say, but I have met plenty of adults where the same couldn’t be said. And if a child is boring – like that Flash guy who used to bother Harley and Xialing found out and kindly dissuaded him with threats of bodily harm – it’s still the parents’ fault for making them that way.”
“I suppose,” said Agatha, though she did not sound particularly convinced.
It was her only flaw, had decided Tony. Her seemingly lack of interest in having a child or raising one (he had originally wondered if her absolute obsession and concerning devotion to the colour purple was a mistake, but he had come to the final decision that it was more of a character statement; like Tony’s habit of wearing sunglasses with every outfit of his, no matter the weather or the place he was visiting).
Not everyone – apart from him – could be perfect, after all.
And he supposed the chaos that would come from a child of Tony Stark and a child of Agatha Harkness being friends was not something the Universe was equipped to handle, as of yet.
“Your children are most definitely personalities, I will give you that.”
That was definitely true, and very clear as Tony looked around the beach.
Xialing, Harley and Nebula were all together in the water. It seemed that they were trying to drown each other and failing because they were all fighting against one another, and none of them wanted the other to succeed and/or beat them, which was working against their success. They were probably practicing battle strategies or something, decided Tony. Hopefully, none of them would die: Tony had not come to Malibu planning on attending a funeral, he did not have the outfit for ut (that was a lie, of course; Tony always expected murders, no matter where he went, and had at least five funeral outfits packed in his bags just in case).
On the beach, Mantis was sunbathing, covered head to toe in sunscreen and hiding from the cancerous sunrays under a beach umbrella.
Just like Tony had taught her.
Vision was laying beside her on a towel, reading his favourite book series (the terms and conditions of all of the Stark Industry devices in the house), while Darcy napped beside them, trying to tan in her sleep.
The other four were not too far, playing a slightly terrifying game of beach volley - Friday and Gamora versus Ultron and Peter. Tony did not know who was winning, and when he saw what looked like the ball catching fire for a second with how hard Gamora hit it at Peter (who caught it), he decided he didn’t want to ask questions either. He was just oh so very glad that this was his private beach and he wouldn’t have to pay for any accidental injury to a member of the plebeian public.
“If I wasn’t their father, I would totally want to be their friend,” he agreed. “They look so cool, don’t they?”
“If you weren’t their father would they be this cool?”
Tony beamed at her. “I love you. I would hug you, but I don’t want to.”
“That’s fine,” said Agatha. “How about you tell me why we are here, then?”
“Uh... pardon?”
“Loving me or your children is not a good enough reason for you to drag me here so that I can get skin cancer,” she pointed out.
“The special SI developed sunscreen won’t let anything happen to you,” he re-assured. Tony had developed it specifically because his Italian blood craved the sweet energy of the hottest thing in the visible sky, and tricked someone else in believing they had created it. But she did not need to know this, as awesome as she was.
“Well?”
Tony rolled his eyes, looking at the beautiful beach expanse in front of him.
After all, Agatha wasn’t wrong. There was a reason for why he had invited her along with him and his family to his Malibu home – other than the fact that he simply could.
“You know, before being the super-amazing playboy, philanthropist, billionaire, unwilling space adventurer, single father, fashion icon, orator, legend, creator, acclaimed DILF, MILF and every other ILF, honorary citizen of Svartalfheim, and many other things that I am today, I was something else,” he explained. “Or rather, I was something on top of all this.
“I was a trophy husband,” he continued, in the wistful manner of someone revealing a dark secret they had long since distanced themselves from. "I could go in detail about how that came to be and how my life almost peaked during that period, but you can buy and read my autobiography that is also a self-help book yourself. Point is, I was married, for too many years, to a boring man.
“And I was, quite frankly, an awesome trophy husband. Above average. Incredible.”
“That is very easy to believe.”
“Thank you. After almost ten years of being a widow – a very sexy and fulfilled widow, mind you – I have come to the decision that I don’t want to continue being that anymore.
“Ty was annoying, but he was a husband, and I miss having a husband. I miss waking up to the same face every day, and I miss being someone’s favourite thing to come home to every afternoon, their favourite thing to do at night and in the early hours of the morning, in the kitchen, after your children have gone to school... you know, the sole star in someone’s world.”
“You have an harem of dozens of people ready to make you feel just like that,” pointed out Agatha.
“Real. However, dozens of people means dozens of possible choices, and I need one person.”
“Why?” asked Agatha. “Just rotate them around, and live your best life. They all adore you.”
“Why do you content yourself with Miss Bald when you could potentially have so many other magic milfs with no children wanting your purple self all to themselves?” he shook his head. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life juggling and jumping from man to man to woman to man – I have a bigger ratio of men into me than I do women. Everything about me is everchanging and never set. I do it on purpose, and I like it that way.
“But at the end of the day, as cool as I am, I want to say I love you to only one romantic partner and mean it. I want to learn one person’s favourite meal, I want to know all the strengths of one person, know all of the weaknesses of one person, know how to kill to death one person. I don’t want to have to learn thousands of different poison combinations to kill the Hulk and Thor and Peter Quill. I just want one secret killing weapon for one single person. Or one single favourite recipe for one single person.”
If the Ancient One or Happy had been there, they would have made all sorts of comments about how improper that was.
Agatha Harkness, a being of advanced ‘future widow’ intelligence, simply nodded as if that was perfectly reasonable – because, despite what others would say, it was.
“You want one person you can be weak in front of,” she said. Tony frowned, and she amended, “A person that you would not panic if they saw you with one hair out of place. A person who you knew wouldn’t judge you if you decided to buy take out instead of making a proper lunch. One person who you know you can cry in front of and know that they will console you and not mind that their clothes will get ruined because of the mascara.
“Because its all good and well to havie many people into you, but you don't strike me as someone who can deal with allowing multiple people see the real you. And someone has to see the real you - otherwise you might just disappear."
Tony stared at her, blinking a couple of times. “I have no idea of what the hell you are talking about."
"Right," said this nosy woman that Tony had probably underestimated just slightly. "What's stopping you from picking one of them, then?"
"It's impossible," complained Tony. "They all like me so much, and whenever I am ready to pick from one of them, a new challenger shows up. And I can't just ignore the new candidate: I am the son of a bad bitch and Howard Stark, an alleged suspected possible genius. I need to practice the scientific method when picking the one person that I plan on being the trophy husband of for the rest of his life."
Not Tony's life. Tony would obviously live longer than whatever partner he chose, unless the other person was going to kill themselves as soon as Tony did, out of inevitable heartache.
"There is no new partners now," said Agatha. "Try and pick one now."
"They are everywhere," warned Tony. "I swear it feels like they literally fall from the sky as soon as I even think of picking someone.”
“Now-” she started, unbelieving.
“Literally,” said Tony. “I will be just standing here, minding my business and boom.”
He barely blinked as a figure landed not too from them, raising a cloud of dust that, despite being very shocked by, Agatha was able to keep away from their delicate skin via her magic.
Tony pointed, already irritated. “See?!”
"I am somehow both shocked and very intrigued by your power of summoning," said Agatha, as the blonde woman cleared the dust from her clothing and confidently walked towards them.
A blonde woman that, as a matter of fact, Tony recognised.
"Carol," he said, vaguely surprised. "You have not changed a day."
She smiled. "Thanks, Tony. I-"
"That was not a compliment," said Tony, unimpressed. "Your hair looks terrible and you are wearing the same exact suit you were wearing the last time I saw you. Aren't you embarrassed?"
She rolled her eyes. "I see you have not changed one bit."
"You know this woman?" asked Xialing, a gun still pointed at Carol. "How?"
Tony wasn't sure where she had been keeping it, since her swimsuit did not have pockets, and he did not dare ask.
"Wait, don't-"
"Story time!"
"Damn it, Xi!"
[1992]
One would think that, once your parents died, you stopped being a victim of their whims.
It was what Tony had expected, at least.
But apparently, his life did not work like that.
Because here he was, six months after his parents’ accident, in the back of a very ugly car with his mom’s favourite unwilling babysitter because he had gotten ‘threats against his life’ after getting engaged to Ty.
The part about the car was actually the most upsetting.
Tony did not drive cars because he was an official and full time passenger princess, and because it was funny pretending not to understand cars and have conversations with car guys (the male version of horse girls) and refer to a Plymouth Barracuda and a Chevrolet Camaro as ‘the red cars’ (something about how red faced and quick to anger they got when, seconds ago, they had been accusing Tony or a nearby woman of being too ‘sensitive’ and ‘emotional’ just tickled him).
That did not mean he could not tell this car was ugly.
He could.
And he had.
Multiple times.
He was going to continue doing so.
“Sit tight,” said Fury, he and the unknown agent at his side turning to face him. “We will be right back.”
“Why don’t you let your beard grow? I feel like it would make you look more fierce and scary. You are not very scary, Nicky.”
“Don’t call me Nicky,” said Fury, looking offended. “And I am scary.”
Tony gave him a look.
“I- Actually no, I don’t have time to argue with a kid.”
Tony just shrugged as the man left the car, turning his attention to his nails.
His mom had taught him that while everyone needed his and her advice, often people weren’t ready to hear and admit how always right they were.
It was a heavy burden, never being wrong ever, but Tony would accept it with royal grace.
And speaking of royal grace. He looked at his hand critically, studying the combination of his freshly manicured nails and the ring Ty had gotten him for their engagement. In so far he had gotten five rings from the man, and it seemed that he was due for a new one, because this new ring did not match his aura.
It was pretty to look at, certainly. And it looked good on Tony, because everything always looked good on him.
But the vibes were off, and the colour clashed with the colour of Tony’s aura.
He could just sense these things.
Ty would get annoyed, but that was none of Tony’s business.
After all, what was more important: Ty’s feelings and happiness or Tony risking having to walk down the aisle on 'Insert Person' Name here's arm (because Mr Jarvis was in hiding as well, Obie’s obsession with him was borderline pedophilic, and Nick Fury would complain the entire time) looking less than perfect?
No one cared about Ty’s happiness: their wedding was going to be Tony’s day.
Or, if Rhodey got off his ass and finally agreed to steal him away, it would become Rhodey and Tony’s day.
He really did not appreciate Rhodey being all the way in a military base and leaving Tony to fend for himself.
Was he good at being an army wife? Yes. Did he enjoy being an army wife? Yes. Would he continue calling himself an army wife despite Rhodey insisting that he was AirForce and not army and that Tony was not his wife? Also yes.
But he had not expected that to be an army wife your army husband had to be physically in the army/airforce.
That had been a complete and utter surprise. Who could have possibly guessed something like that would happen? So out of the left field.
“Tony, hold on tight!” called Fury, he and the agent slamming the doors closed as they jumped in the car. “Did you see her weapon?”
“I did not-”
Tony did not even bother paying attention as Nicky started manoeuvring the car in a way that should probably get him a ticket but wouldn’t, because of main character immunity.
Not that Nicky was the main character.
“Suspect on northbound train, in pursuit!”
Tony was the main character.
Tony was always the main character.
Which meant, that even as the chase for... whatever it was Agent Boring A and B wanted to get, Tony was going to remain safe and sound.
He wasn't particularly happy about the chase, though.
The car was still ugly, and Tony was not even wearing the appropriate outfit for a car chase.
“Where did you even get your license?” he complained, as they nearly crashed against another car. “It’s like you’ve never been in an active car chase before.”
“You say that like you have. Why do you say that like you have?!”
“Well, of course, I have.” Tony was frankly offended that Fury thought he hadn’t.
“I- I don’t even want to know.”
“Train's heading for a tunnel up ahead,” warned the Agent beside him.
“Let's greet them at the station,” said Fury, and Tony actually snorted at that. “What?”
“You are not witty,” he explained. “That was not clever. Don’t make that mistake again.”
“Why am I being bossed and bullied around by a guy who turned eighteen like three days ago?”
“Because I am Tony Stark. Is old age catching up with you already? Is it Alzheimer? You look like an Alzheimer guy.” Tony studied him through the mirror. “How old are you?”
“Thirt-”
“Damn!” said Tony, a hand flying to his mouth. “I thought you were like sixty!”
“Sixty?! You little-”
“Mr Fury, this is agent Coulson,” came a voice from the radio. Fury stiffened, and looked up at the man beside him. “Umm, I'm still here at the Blockbuster, where did everybody go? I've finished collecting evidence-”
The Clearly Not Agent Coulson guy beside Fury pulled out a gun, and Tony let out a very shrill scream - while, inside, he found himself very irritated at their attempts to kill each other.
Did they not understand how plot armour worked? His plot armour could do very little if he ended up flattening himself alongside them against a wall.
People really had no regard for the Tony Starks in their lives.
Not-Coulson reached for Fury’s neck, and Tony quickly pulled out Fury’s other gun from under the seat, screaming in terror as he did so.
He was still screaming when he shot him point blank in the back of the head, and then definitely screaming even louder as nasty blackish blood sprayed over his clothes.
“Oh my god! Oh my god, oh my god, get this off me, get this off me, this is designer-!”
“Where did you even get a gun?! How did you-”
“I can’t breathe, I literally cannot breathe,” said Tony, fully shaking and hyperventilating. “This is so rare and it took me so long to get it because it’s so rare and it’s bloody and I don’t even- can’t even- oh my god-”
“Oh- okay, Tony, breathe,” said Fury, looking even more panicked than he had been when the other guy had been about to kill him. “Okay? Deep breaths, it’s okay, we can fix it.”
“How can you fix it when you make barely over minimum wage at a desk job that is a front for an intelligence company?” he snapped. Then he teared up again. “See, I get mean when things don’t go right. Please, we need to fix this, I need my clothes fixed, please Uncle Fury.”
“I will never understand a single Stark,” muttered the man, glancing at his former agent-turned-green-alien with a grimace. “Come on. I’m taking you to get changed. We’ll get you some expensive and fashionable clothing to change into there.”
Tony sniffed. “Promise?”
The man sighed. “Promise.”
+++
So aliens were real.
Which Tony knew already.
Because if aliens weren't real then Tony was the most awesome guy on Earth, and that was boring.
But, if aliens were real, then Tony was the most awesome man in the universe, and now that was a title worth having.
He almost did not mind that his outfit had gotten ruined.
Well, that was a lie. He was still pretty upset about that, even though he had gotten to change.
"All life on Earth is carbon-based," said the scientist in the room. "Not this guy. Whatever he runs on, it's not on the periodic table."
"You're saying he's not from around here?"
"Wasn't that obvious from the purple blood?" questioned Tony.
"Why are you still here? You should-"
"You took me with you," pointed out Tony. "You can't kick me out just as things start to get interesting."
"You said that this thing looked like Coulson?" cut in the Director.
He looked rather unimpressed saying that, like it made sense for someone to be able to pretend to be something it was not.
Fury did not seem to notice. "Talked like him too."
"The woman said that there were more?"
"The word she used was infiltration."
The Director looked at him carefully. "Believe her?"
"Do you have any reason why he shouldn't?" wondered Tony, one eyebrow raised.
"Tony-"
"I'm just asking," complained Tony, overly dramatically. "Maybe she's the enemy and the green guys are the good guys."
"They can pretend to look just like us," pointed out Fury, irritated, while the Director seemed surprised.
"And? It's called utilising pre-existing talents. I could look much much better than this, but because I value your poor mortal eyes and small egos, I don't. To keep you comfortable."
"Alright," said Fury, shaking his head. "Apologies, director. I'll send him home and then follow up on the tip I got on a motorcycle thief which fits her description. She can tell us why these lizards are here, and maybe she can tell us how to kick them to the curb."
The Director still looked wary, but glanced away from Tony eventually. "Good. Do it alone though. Can't trust anyone. Not even our own men."
"Yes sir. You, come with me."
"But- Hey, this is a new outfit, no touching with possibly alien diseased hands! Howard died before inventing alien proof vaccines."
"Howard Stark wasn't even in biochemistry!"
"Why are you trying to make me understand more than one science?"
As the two left, the Director looked far less suspicious.
Fury left him with some agents Tony decided were not worth getting to know and left to hunt down the blonde alien lady, with a stern warning against doing anything but sit down and look pretty.
And Tony was usually very good at sitting not so still and looking pretty. He was the best at looking pretty.
But he did not like it when unattractive people gave him orders.
Or when he was given orders outside of bed.
Or when he was given orders in general, now that he thought about it, because he was a brat even in bed.
And Fury had given him an order.
So now it was Tony's god given right to do anything but sit down and look pretty.
... Well. He was still gonna look pretty. It was too hard to not. But he was not going to do it sitting down.
+++
The good thing about being willingly married to Ty Stone and the assumption that he was simply giving him his company as a wedding present was that people sort of assumed Tony was stupid.
Oh, there were a couple of people who had heard of his degree and thought it was a persona but, for the most part? They just thought he was a bimbo (which he was).
This meant that he could waltz into a room full of secrets and pretend to be intrigued by the shiny objects around or bat his eyes at someone and nobody would even wonder to hide away the secret information they kept laying around.
And if Tony was on a computer? Well, clearly he was trying to find games, seen as he asked someone how to turn it on beforehand.
Which was why, by the time Nick Fury and the lady Tony had figured out was Carol Danvers (though, for whatever reason, she answered to Vers) landed in Lousiana, he was already there chatting to Maria Rambeau.
"-And I was thinking, the entire time, if only he could clean his sunglasses a bit, then I would be able to actually see myself reflected, you know? But of course-"
"Excuse me, I'm looking for Maria Rambeau?"
All three of them turned in direction of the voice, though only Tony was appreciating the flabbergasted look on Fury's face.
"Aunty Carol? Mom, it's Aunty Carol!" Little Monica jumped off the plane she was playing in, running towards Carol Danvers. "I knew it, everybody said you were dead but we knew they were lying!"
"How the hell-"
"Are you stalking me?" demanded Tony, looking at him critically. "Is that what it is? Cause this is most definitely not what mom meant when she said you should look after me."
"How did you get here? I left you in LA!"
"I just came to see my friend Maria," said Tony, pointing in the direction of the woman in question. The woman who was staring at Carol incredolously and oh. Now Tony understood why the crush Rhodey had went nowhere. Good, he had less reason to actively kill her now. "We were frenemies. Hi Carol."
The blonde looked confused. "I'm not really who you think I am."
"Well, clealry," said Tony, inspecting her head to toe. "You had better fashion sense, last time I saw you. Shall we take this inside?"
+++
"That is the craziest shit I have ever heard,” said Maria, after Carol was done telling them her entire story.
"Even more crazy that when you broke into MIT with her to spraypaint Rhodey's afro in Caltech's colours?"
"You did what?!" asked Monica, looking at her mom in shock while Maria tried to appear like the responsible adult she wasn't.
"First of all, he looked pretty good in white and orange. Two, you guys started it, MIT brat."
"Don't worry, Monica," said Tony, winking at the younger girl. "I will tell you all about what your mom was like when we were in university. One day I'll tell you the real reason I call Rhodey Platypus."
"You will do no such thing," said Maria, slightly panicked. "And there is no such things as green-transforming aliens."
“You don't believe me?” Carol, who had been looking between Tony and Maria in amusement, stood up and moved towards the stove, putting a hand on a kettle. Her hands glowed a faint orange - because she was a stinky CalTechie even when in space with amnesia, clearly - making the water boil and kettle whistle.
“No way. That's so cool!” called Monica, rushing to inspect what she was doing more thoroughly.
Tony narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to indicate that you're hot like burning? Because you would not beat me in a diva off. You may look like Barbie, but I am Barbie."
"Who... is Barbie?"
"Barbie is Love, Barbie is Life. Barbie is a girlboss, and past, present and future. She is an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment. She is me." He glared. "Understood?"
"... Not really."
“I kept all your stuff,” informed her Monica, looking super excited. “And I have a Barbie. I'll go get it.”
"I'll come with, I want to see if your Barbie is better than my Barbie."
"You really have Barbies?" asked Monica, as she led him towards her bedroom.
"Of course I do. I have the Dreamhouse, back home, and so many rare outfits for her. I even designed some of said outfits."
"Some of my friends say that Barbie is for kids," confessed Monica, looking surprised. "Or for girls."
"Maybe originally," said Tony, shrugging. "But I like making things pretty and perfect. I like clothes, and even though Barbie is a girl, it's fun designing clothes for her. Ken, on the other hand, is so boring, and most men clothing lack variety."
Monica observed him for a few moments, and then smiled.
"You are cool," she decided. "I like you."
Tony smiled. "And I like you in the appropriate way an eighteen years old guy can like a badass and cool girl like you."
She giggled. "Do you have a daughter?"
"Not yet. I would like to have children, though. I think I would make a badass dad. I'd pack their lunches, challenge their teaches to dance-offs, have my driver drive us around in cool cars, match clothes with them..." He patted her on the head. "And they'd have you as an awesome maybe cousin maybe friend, which is cool."
"Really?"
Tony rolled his eyes. "Of course. Who else? You're the coolest person I've met since this whole thing started. And don't worry: Carol's memory might be spotty, but she loved you when your mom was still in university and you were a little kid and they were pretending to be 'just roommates'. She's gonna love you even more now, no matter what she does or doesn't remember."
She looked hopeful. "You think so?"
"She better. I'll fight her for you."
Monica giggled again. "You're not strong enough."
She had a point.
"I'll cry," de decided. "And then she'll feel bad, and I'll win. Or I'll just hire Rhodey, pretending to listen to his racial sensitivity commentary the entire time."
She laughed again, looking happier than she had been before, which Tony considered a win.
Clearly, he was going to be an awesome father and he needed to get himself a child already.
They returned, and Tony kept himself back as Monica launched herself at Carol in her rush to explain all the things she had missed while playing amnesiac in space.
She was a sweet girl, Monica.
She was special all by herself, the way kids were, and it made Tony long.
Wouldn't it be nice to have a kid for himself? A perfect little mini-me that followed him around the way Tony had followed his mom around?
And he didn't even have to worry about the child inheriting Ty's genes, since Tony's talent would outshine his lack of (just like his mom's had done with Howard's genes).
Not that they could have biological children anyway. Because science said so, no matter what Ty's impregnation kink believed.
He already knew he'd be an amazing dad. He'd make children who loved him more than they ever cared for Ty, and the man would have to deal with it.
He'd need to make sure their relationship was open before that, though. Because Tony was many things, but a cheater he was not.
He-
“Don't answer that,” said Carol, at the sound of someone knocking at the door.
“It's just my neighbour,” said Maria, right as Tony said, "I've never answered a door in my life."
Maria turned to face him. "You're kidding, right?"
Why was she shocked, and why would Tony be kidding about that, he had no idea.
Why would he open his own door when he had butlers and bots to do that for him?
At least he opened his own car doors. Unlike some arrogant and out of touch individuals out there.
Carol opened the door before he could answer, leaving a middle aged man standing there, who immediately faltered at the look on her face. “Hi there.”
He had thought her a bisexual woman before, but she was too good at the mean lesbian resting bitch face to be anything but. “What do you want?”
“Umm...”
Maria came to stand beside her before she could pulverise him via mean lesbian vibes or meaner proton fists. “Hey Tom. Sorry, this is my friend Carol.”
“Pleased to meet ya,” said the old man shaking her hand. “Yowzer! Static electricity out here's no joke. I noted that peculiar bird you got parked by the road, and I was just wondering if you'd mind if I bring the boys over to get a closer looksie?”
"I want everybody to note that I was going to say something classist but I didn't," said Tony, pointedly. "And possibly elitist as well. But I kept it to myself. To be kind."
"Noted," said Fury, rolling his eyes.
Clearly, like the man there, he had never attended a single etiquette and social class in his life.
Because he was poor.
What? It didn't count if he didn't say it out loud.
“A closer looksie," repeated Carol. "To see the bird parked out by the road. You're really working overtime to sell this one, aren't you... Talos?”
"If he's Talos," said Tony, as Maria tried to stop Carol from attacking, "Then who's that guy?"
All three of them turned - slamming the door in poor Tom's face - and quickly fell into battle position as they noticed the green alien behind them in the kitchen.
“You know, you really should be kinder to your neighbours," said the possibly Talos alien. Tony refused to try and guess who he was because he wasn't racist and didn't want to misgender/misname/misalien him by accident. He preferred to know the people he was dissing before he did so. "You never know when you're gonna need to borrow some... sugar.”
"Wow," said Tony, disappointed. "Not only you are ugly, you are also not witty? That's a bit embarrassing, don't you think? Who sent you here to represent your species? They should have picked someone else."
"You are... very rude."
"I am," agreed Tony. "It's to help others build character."
“Well, it's- Now, hang on a second, before you go swinging those jazz hands around, making a mess in your friend's house - and... it's a lovely home.”
“Oh my god,” said Maria. She was looking at something out of the window that Tony couldn’t see from where he stood. “What the hell?!”
“No one's gonna hurt the girl,” said the alien and well.
Threatening a child was not a very good intergalactic relations tactic.
Especially when Tony was fond of said child.
“Just, don't kill me," said the second alien Tony might end up murdering. "That would really complicate the situation.”
"Let Monica go and nobody will kill you, dismember you, cook you in a solution of acid, grind you in a fine paste, turn you into powder and feed you to piranhas," said Tony, smiling. "Promise. And please be aware, I am being reasonable, right now. So I would listen to me."
"Dear god, you're just like your mother," said Fury, while keeping his gun on the alien. "I'd listen to him too. Cause I'm about five seconds from complicating that wall with some ugly-ass Skrull brains.”
"Look, I'm here in good faith," said the alien, grimacing. "We are not going to hurt a kid. I just, I had to take some precautions. I saw her crush 20 of my best men with her hands bound. I just wanna talk.”
Carol's eyes narrowed. “Last time we talked, I ended up hanging from my ankles.”
“That was before I knew who you were.”
Sensing a discussion that had nothing to do with him and was thus uninteresting, Tony walked out on light feet - he had taken his ballet lesson very seriously, unlike someone he would not mention and who's name rhymed with Not Hope Van Dyne - outside, towards Monica and the alien.
"Tony!" said the girl, smiling as he moved towards her. "Look! One of the aliens Carol was talking about."
"Right!" said Tony, pointing his gun when the alien stiffened, just out of Monica's line of sight. "Is he being nice?"
"Yeah! He told me all about his baby cousin, he sounds like fun. He's a scientist."
"A scientist. How boring." He stopped beside Monica, the hand with the gun still jovially pointed at the alien. "I wanna talk about this intergalactic fashion of yours. Cause if this is what you're working with, I'll totally smoke you at the next Doctor Universe."
"Doctor... Universe?"
"They only call it Miss Universe cause they know I'd win, otherwise," said Tony. Monica giggled and he smiled at her. "Come on. Let's go see what the boring former military people have going on in there."
"AirForce," stressed Monica. "It's different."
"They wear ugly camo and fight people. It's the same thing."
The scientist alien twitched, and Tony pointed the gun at him over Monica's head. "Shall we?"
He swallowed, looking surprisingly afraid of Tony.
Tony could not wait to inform them all that this gun was empty. He had a feeling they would find it as fun as he did.
+++
Tony made the executive decision not to follow them in space. He did not have any space worthy outfits just yet, and he'd be damned if he let aliens think his sense of fashion was subpar.
"Well, do go on," said Tony, expectantly. "You have no idea what me and Monica have planned for the evening, and we need you gone to start."
"It's going to be epic," stressed the girl, eyes shining with mischief.
Maria's eyes narrowed. "You are not allowed to take revenge for anything done during our MIT-CalTech rivalry on my home or on my child."
Tony just smiled at her. He was not a nerd or anything, but he was loyal. He was so going to convert Monica into a MIT girl by the time they came back.
"Your Mom's lucky," said Carol, before an argument could start. "When they were handing out kids, they gave her the toughest one. Lieutenant Trouble."
The smile that lit Monica's face made Tony smile a little more honestly too. "You remember."
Carol made a so-so gesture, before nodding in direction of Monica's lap. "Is that mine?"
"Yeah, I was-"
"No, no," said Carol, and look at her, garnering all the good woman-who-my-mom-calls-roommate-and-best-friend-but-that-everyone-knows-she-is-sleeping-with/stepmom points. "You hang onto it until I come back. But there is something that I need your help with." She pointed at her suit. "I can't wear these Kree colors anymore, and since you're obviously the only person around here with any sense of style-" Tony cleared his throat rather loudly. He cared about Monica, but he drew the line on lying and not recognising him as the best dressed always.
"One of the best?"
He huffed in concession, watching as Carol extended her arm. There was a gadget on her wrist, and as Monica fiddled with it, it started changing the colour of Carol's suit.
If Tony had been a nerd, he would have done his best to figure out how the thing worked.
As he was not a nerd, he just looked at it coolly and focused on the abomination Monica was creating.
Clearly, being sweet and kind did not mean that she automatically had taste.
Apparently you needed Stark genes for that.
Very sad, and more of a reason for him to hurry up and make a baby.
"Well, since we're on the same team..." offered Carol, after Tony did his best not to scowl or show his immense disapproval of their artistic streaks. "Before Tony chokes on his opinions."
"Not opinions, darling," he said, as Monica turned the suit blue, with yellow stripes, and red gloves, boots, belt and shoulder pads. "Facts. Also, the army propaganda is strong with this one."
"It's Air Force!"
+++
“Did you... did you braid Monica’s hair yourself?”
Tony looked from the possibly non binary aliens who, unfortunately, looked like copies of one another, to Maria.
“What, like it’s hard?”
“You braided... all of Monica’s hair... in the time we were up there,” repeated Maria, eyes wide in disbelief. “You are a white man.”
“A white man who was roommates with James Rhodes and learnt to braid on his mini afro and his sister’s hair in university,” reminded Tony. “Mama Rhodes literally taught me.”
“I don’t know why the fact that you can braid hair is tripping me so hard, but I will give you anything, including all of my life savings, if you stay and do Monica’s hair from now on.”
Tony looked at her, sly. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
“Say MIT is better than CalTech.”
Maria made a face. “Anything except that.”
“Say CalTech sucks.”
She turned to look at the aliens. “I promise you not all of us are as annoying as he is.”
“Nor are they as beautiful as I am,” said Tony, bowing elegantly. “Hello. Tony Stark. Honoured to find that I am currently better dressed than almost 100% of the human population and 100% of the aliens I know.”
“Wow, he’s rude,” said Androgynous Alien Number 2. “But... he is handsome.”
“He prefers pretty,” said Carol, and she was smiling slightly when Tony glanced at her. “You always said that.”
“Good to see that you are at least remembering the most important things. Now all you have to do is remember how much you want to bang Maria Rambeau-”
“Tony, oh my god-”
“And how much you loved being her roommate slash romantic partner and coworker and never upset Monica again, and everything will be fine.”
Maria and Monica both looked pretty embarrassed, while Carol looked a little amused only.
“You keep calling me a lesbian,” she considered.
“Not as an insult,” promised Tony. “I would never insult someone for their sexuality. I would find whatever they were most embarrassed and insecure about and then make a joke about that. Like how I’m pretty sure Howard is the only person who would have been able to calculate the speed and arch of Fury’s declining hairline.”
The man – who was, inexplicably, wearing an eyepatch and holding the orange cat from earlier in his arms – tried and failed to hide said hairline from inquiring eyes.
“You are just painfully gay. Any attraction you might feel for me is completely fine, as I have been proven to be dangerous for most straight man and a number of bisexuals. The asexuals are technically safe, but all of them want to be my friends, so I still win.”
“Glad to hear that.” She watched Monica move towards the baby alien, and moved closer to Tony. "Thanks."
"I have no idea of what you are talking about," he said, staring right back at her.
"Of course you don't," said Carol, rolling his eyes. "As for your previous calculations... Know that you have at least one lesbian that, if she were to wake up straight, she'd definitely go for you."
"Bitch please," said Tony, rolling his eyes. "Fork spotted in kitchen; everyone knew.
"Now go and make a bisexual single mother and their daughter happy again. You have my blessing."
Carol pressed a kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you," she repeated. And then went off.
Tony watched the smile on Maria's face when she stopped beside her for a second, and nodded in self-satisfaction.
Another day, another life touched by him.
He was awesome.
“That is... not how I remember it happening,” said Carol, once Tony was done telling his completely objective and true to facts story.
“I made you sound better than you did,” agreed Tony. “Otherwise, that’s exactly how it went.”
“Wait,” said Darcy. “Is that how I came to be? You got baby fever from being around Monica Rambeu? I don’t know how to feel about this.”
“He realised he loved caring for children with Monica,” corrected Carol. “And knowing better than to kidnap a child from their parents-”
Mantis, Nebula, Gamora and Xialing exchanged a quick look.
“-He decided to have you. And... all of these others?”
“Yep,” said Tony, smiling more honestly at the kids. “Had to put my love somewhere, after all. After I turned 20, hanging out around Monica started to become creepy. Anyway, you are still lesbianly in love with Maria Rambeau, and I really have no space for a new love interest. So, what are you doing here, Carol?”
The woman's expression turned severe, and she turned to focus fully on Tony.
“Thanos is coming.”
... There went Tony's nice holiday.