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daylight_darknightKnew I couldn't keep posting a chapter a day. Here's yesterday's chapter which has been a giant pain. I kept having to rewrite bits because it refused to go where I wanted it to go and then I had to get all nitpicky when proofreading it. I'm still not completely satisfied with it, but I'm tired of fighting with it. So here it is. Should be able to get another chapter up later today.
Title: Just A Rather Very Intelligent System
Characters: Tony, Jarvis, Thor, Steve, Bruce, Clint, Natasha
Rating/Warnings: PG
Genre: Action, Angst, Humour, Family
Word Count: 2564 (this chapter)
Spoilers: The Iron Man movies and the first Avengers movie
Summary: Five times Jarvis took control of the Iron Man armour without the other Avengers finding out and one time they did
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
God, he was tired. Tony raised a hand to rub his eyes only remembering just in time that he was still wearing his armour. He lowered the hand back down and instead shifted the helmet tucked under his arm. Sometimes wearing metal gloves could be a real pain in the ass.
“Sir?” inquired a voice in his ear.
“What is it, Jarvis?” Tony replied wearily.
“I believe the others are waiting for you.”
Tony turned to look at the Quinjet where the other Avengers had gathered. Clint, red burn marks decorating his right arm and the right side of his face, was leaning against the side of the plane idly doing something to his bow. Thor, armour, cape, and hair still majestic even after the tiring battle, stood a few feet away swinging his hammer back and forth as he surveyed their surroundings. Natasha and Bruce had disappeared somewhere inside the jet, probably getting it ready to leave, but Steve was waiting at the top of the ramp, arms crossed over his soot-stained uniform as he glared down at Tony.
“Perhaps it would be best if you joined them,” Jarvis suggested.
“Yeah,” said Tony stretching the word out in long drawl. “I don't think that's such a great idea right now.”
Tony had fucked up. He knew he had fucked up. He didn't need the look Steve was sending him to figure that out and he certainly didn't need the inevitable lecture that was soon to follow.
“Let's go, Stark,” Steve called out. “Unless you're enjoying the view.”
The view? The Captain's comment brought Tony's attention unwillingly back to his surroundings. A large spotlight perched on top a nearby firetruck illuminated the night showing off the results of the recent battle. What had once been a vibrant city street was now a scene of devastation. It looked like a bomb had gone off, several bombs. Buildings were in pieces. Fissures split the pavement. Here and there flames flickered. And then there were the people. The sound of sirens and the blades of helicopters could be heard as medical personnel arrived to take care of the many wounded.
Tony's heavy heart sank even deeper in his chest.
When he fucked things up, he really fucked them up.
“Come on, Stark,” Steve called again. “Some of us would really like to get out of here.” He was giving Tony that look once more full of smug righteousness and judgement.
Tony knew he'd fucked up. He also knew what was going to happen next. He'd get on the plane. He'd sit across from Steve and they would glare at each other some more; then Steve would demand to know what was wrong with him. Tony would make some sarcastic reply. Steve would start pointing out all of Tony's mistakes, and soon the whole thing would devolve into a giant argument. Thor would try to play peacemaker, Clint and Natasha would hide in the cockpit, and poor Bruce would curl up in a corner and pretend to sleep.
Tony really didn't have the energy to go through that again.
“Actually,” he said to Steve, “I think I'll find my own way home. You know, stretch the old repulsors.”
From his earpiece, Jarvis spoke up, “Sir, given the circumstances, flying the armour back would not...”
“Quiet, J,” Tony shushed him.
Steve frowned. He opened his mouth as if to say something but Bruce came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Some whispers passed between the two of them; then Bruce came down the ramp and joined Tony.
“You alright?” he asked. His post-hulk-out blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and he looked almost as tired as Tony felt.
“Me?” said Tony. “I'm awesome, fantastic, peachy-keen.”
“Huh,” said Bruce incredulously. “Because you know you look like crap.”
Tony waved his hand vaguely at their surroundings. “It's the lighting. It doesn't really bring out my best features.”
“Yeah. I suppose those emergency spotlights always give people that pale, red-eyed, just back from the dead look.”
“Exactly,” Tony replied having no intention of giving up the game even when he knew Bruce was just playing along. “I'd be my usual ruggedly handsome self in daylight.”
Bruce's lips twisted in a halfhearted smirk. “No comment.” He turned his gaze to the destruction around them. “I don't remember much but I take it things didn't go so well.”
“You think?” Tony said bitterly, the care-free facade falling away. The weariness was making itself felt all the way down to his bones.
Bruce sighed like a man who had had to put up with Tony Stark one too many times. “Tony, you know you did...”
Tony held up a hand. “Don't you dare go all pep talk on me. I performed like a drugged up monkey out there. My flying sucked. My reaction time sucked. And my aim? I think I hit more buildings than drones...”
“From what I remember those drones were pretty damn fast.”
“I should have been faster!” Tony snapped, his sudden cry startling even himself.
He closed his eyes taking a few seconds just to breath trying to pull the frayed pieces of himself back together. When he opened them once more, he found Bruce gazing searchingly at him, his brow furrowed.
“When was last time you got some sleep?”
The sudden change of topic momentarily stumped Tony.
Sleep? Tony's fingers twitched as he felt the urge to rub his sore eyes once again. Sleep hadn't exactly been occurring recently. Mostly it had just been occasional restless dozing full of rampaging nightmares. It would have been better if Pepper were around, he always slept better with her beside him, but she'd been at a conference in Germany for the past week.
“Approximately forty-seven hours ago,” Jarvis supplied helpfully using the armour's speakers so Bruce could hear him too. “Though that was only for one and a half hours. Your last full night of sleep was...”
“Jarvis,” Tony interrupted with a sigh. “What have I told you about sharing personal information?”
“I was merely following your request to provide all necessary information which could aid in the operation of the Avengers, sir. Shall I also inform him of your current eating habits?”
If Tony could have, he would have slapped a hand across his face. He cursed the metal gloves once more along with smartass A.I.s.
“Tony...” Bruce was giving him that worried look, the one Pepper often gave him. The one that seemed to convey both fear for his well-being and his sanity.
“Forty-seven hours is nothing,” Tony insisted defensively. “I've gone without sleep for way longer than that. I'm fine. I'm fine.”
Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Peachy-keen?”
“Peachy-keen,” Tony repeated and nodded his head. Glancing back at the Quinjet, he added, “Shouldn't you be getting back? I think our glorious fearless leader is getting impatient.”
“I was waiting for you,” said Bruce.
“Uh uh,” said Tony shaking his head this time. “I'm making my own way home, remember? Have flying armoured suit will travel?”
Bruce gave him a level look. “We're in Kuala Lumpur, Tony. Your suit is fast but it's still going to take you a few hours to get back to New York and you're exhausted. Do you even have enough power left after the fight?”
Tony waved a hand as if the mere idea of him being low on power were a ludicrous impossibility. “Oh, I've got plenty of juice left in the old suit. Right, Jarvis?”
“There is enough power to make it back to the tower,” Jarvis replied. “However I would not recommend...”
“See. Plenty of power.”
Bruce looked unconvinced. “I don't think going off on your own is a good idea right now.”
Tony snorted. “And having Captain Perfect Pants and me in a small confined space is? No, thanks.”
“He's worried about you,” said Bruce. “We're all worried about you.”
“Worried that I'll fuck things up again,” Tony muttered gazing at the ground.
“Worried you'll get yourself killed.”
Tony's head snapped up. He opened his mouth to make another smartass comment and failed.
“So you were off your game today,” Bruce said some of the temper he always kept carefully controlled starting to bleed through into his voice. “So what? You're human. It happens. The important thing is why it happened. You've been out of it for a while now. Just tell us what's going on. We want to help.”
The pleading look on Bruce's face was too much for Tony. Suddenly, it was all too much for Tony. Bruce's pleading look. Steve's patriotic glare. The devastation surrounding him. It felt like he had been dragged naked over a desert road, crushed in a trash compactor, and made to listen to Justin Bieber songs at high volume for twenty-four hours straight. Both his brain and body had had enough.
He let out a deep breath. “Can we just not do this now?” he said, his voice slow and rough.
“Tony, we need to talk about this,” Bruce insisted.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony muttered. He took the helmet from under his arm and placed it back on his head. The familiar digital displays that sprang up before him were comforting as was having a mask on that he didn't have to work for, a convenient barrier between him and everyone else. “I'll see you back home.”
“Tony, wait...” Bruce began but it was too late. His voice was drowned out by the sound of repulsors firing.
Tony shot up into the sky. The buildings streaked below him as he left his teammates and the debris strewn battlefield behind.
“Sir,” said Jarvis. “Captain Rogers is attempting to contact you.”
“Forget it, Jarvis,” Tony replied. “Turn the radio off.”
“But sir...”
“Turn it off!”
He was escaping, or if he was being truthful with himself which he seldom was, he was running away or rather flying away. Flying had never been an ambition of Tony's. It hadn't even been the main purpose of creating the armour, but sometimes it felt like the best thing to come out of it. Buildings became fields became water, and soon all there was was just the background hum of the armour, the lights of the stars above him, and the ocean below him.
Eventually, the tension in his body started to fade and his lungs took in deep calm breaths as he finally relaxed. He thought of asking Jarvis to play some tunes or even bring up some work he could look at to break the monotony of the flight, but he found it hard to call up the effort through the warm haze that was starting to envelope his brain.
The ocean streamed by below him.
The constellations passed by over head.
His eyelids began to droop.
An alarm blared and his eyes snapped open again. “What...?” he mumbled.
“Sir,” said Jarvis. “You are deviating from the proposed flight route.”
Almost reluctantly, Tony's eyes focused on the display in front of him and saw he was veering too far south.
“Oh, right.”
He switched direction. He flew on the right course for a while but it wasn't long before his wandering mind began to doze off again.
An alarm sounded a second time dragging Tony back into the real world.
“Sir, the heading has deviated once more,” said Jarvis.
“Ok, ok,” Tony said sleepily. “I've got it.”
He'd been heading too far north this time but he was able to correct it again. A few wispy clouds passed by as he continued on course. The arc-reactor powering the armour hummed soothingly. Soon, his eyelids grew heavy once more, his breathing became shallower, and he drifted off into darkness.
This time a much louder alarm woke him.
“Sir, altitude has gone below 1000 feet,” said Jarvis, a surprising amount of anxiety in his normally passive voice.
Tony opened his eyes to see nothing but ocean in front of him, miles of empty ocean, and it looked like he was headed in a shallow dive right towards it.
He panicked. His limbs, which normally Jarvis helped keep locked in position on long distance flights, flailed about madly and he tumbled about in the air buffeted by the wind. He became a plummeting windmill of spinning metal and intermittently firing repulsors until he was, eventually, able to get back in control.
For a moment, he just hovered there in mid-air breathing heavily.
“Sir, perhaps I should take full control until we reach our destination,” said Jarvis.
“Full control?” Tony replied uncertainly, still gasping for air.
“Unless you'd rather go for a late night swim?”
Tony gazed down at the large expanse of dark ocean below him.
“I've been a fucking idiot again, haven't I?” he said.
“I couldn't possibly comment, sir,” replied the A.I.
Tony let out a long sigh. “Take me home, J.”
He felt the armour shift around him, legs straightening, arms pinned to his sides, and then he was horizontal and soaring through the sky once more. Despite not being in control, he felt strangely safe cocooned in the armour. The world sped by and soon a feeling of peace returned. With it came sleep, real sleep that he hadn't had in a long, long time.
Sometime later a voice penetrated the fog that had surrounded him.
“Sir?” said Jarvis.
“Hmm?” Tony said not bothering to open his eyes.
“We have arrived at the tower.”
“Ok, J,” Tony replied, his voice not much more than a mumbled sigh. He had no wish to leave the peaceful darkness he'd finally found.
“Shall I give you back control of the armour?”
Tony's eyes reluctantly blinked open. He was, in fact, in the tower. He was standing in the middle of the large living room that occupied most of the common floor. Across the room, he spotted a couch amongst a collection of loveseats and armchairs that surrounded a large glass coffee table.
The couch looked extremely comfortable and soft and inviting.
“Couch,” he said sleepily.
Thankfully despite the vagueness of the instruction, Jarvis understood precisely what he meant and the armour walked in the direction of the couch taking Tony with it.
“Out, J,” he muttered once he'd reached his destination.
The armour opened up. Tony stumbled a step and then pretty much collapsed onto the waiting couch. The soft surface was blissful to sink into and in a fraction of a second he was back in the world of sleep he'd barely stepped out of.
He half-woke again an indeterminable time later when he felt a blanket fall across his shoulders.
“How the hell did he make it back?” asked a voice.
“No clue,” another replied. “I was expecting to hear he'd gone down in the middle of the Pacific.”
There was a loud sigh. “One of these days were going to have to strap him down and have a real talk with him.”
“Later. Let him rest. He needs it.”
When the voices had stopped and the sound of footsteps had faded into the distance, Tony risked a quiet, “J?”
The voice of the A.I. came through his earpiece. “You are on the couch in the living room, sir. The tower is secure. The other Avengers have returned and are all unharmed and accounted for.”
“'S good, good,” Tony mumbled as he started to drift off once more. “G'night, J.”
“Goodnight, sir,” Jarvis replied. “Sweet dreams.”
Chapter 4
Title: Just A Rather Very Intelligent System
Characters: Tony, Jarvis, Thor, Steve, Bruce, Clint, Natasha
Rating/Warnings: PG
Genre: Action, Angst, Humour, Family
Word Count: 2564 (this chapter)
Spoilers: The Iron Man movies and the first Avengers movie
Summary: Five times Jarvis took control of the Iron Man armour without the other Avengers finding out and one time they did
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
God, he was tired. Tony raised a hand to rub his eyes only remembering just in time that he was still wearing his armour. He lowered the hand back down and instead shifted the helmet tucked under his arm. Sometimes wearing metal gloves could be a real pain in the ass.
“Sir?” inquired a voice in his ear.
“What is it, Jarvis?” Tony replied wearily.
“I believe the others are waiting for you.”
Tony turned to look at the Quinjet where the other Avengers had gathered. Clint, red burn marks decorating his right arm and the right side of his face, was leaning against the side of the plane idly doing something to his bow. Thor, armour, cape, and hair still majestic even after the tiring battle, stood a few feet away swinging his hammer back and forth as he surveyed their surroundings. Natasha and Bruce had disappeared somewhere inside the jet, probably getting it ready to leave, but Steve was waiting at the top of the ramp, arms crossed over his soot-stained uniform as he glared down at Tony.
“Perhaps it would be best if you joined them,” Jarvis suggested.
“Yeah,” said Tony stretching the word out in long drawl. “I don't think that's such a great idea right now.”
Tony had fucked up. He knew he had fucked up. He didn't need the look Steve was sending him to figure that out and he certainly didn't need the inevitable lecture that was soon to follow.
“Let's go, Stark,” Steve called out. “Unless you're enjoying the view.”
The view? The Captain's comment brought Tony's attention unwillingly back to his surroundings. A large spotlight perched on top a nearby firetruck illuminated the night showing off the results of the recent battle. What had once been a vibrant city street was now a scene of devastation. It looked like a bomb had gone off, several bombs. Buildings were in pieces. Fissures split the pavement. Here and there flames flickered. And then there were the people. The sound of sirens and the blades of helicopters could be heard as medical personnel arrived to take care of the many wounded.
Tony's heavy heart sank even deeper in his chest.
When he fucked things up, he really fucked them up.
“Come on, Stark,” Steve called again. “Some of us would really like to get out of here.” He was giving Tony that look once more full of smug righteousness and judgement.
Tony knew he'd fucked up. He also knew what was going to happen next. He'd get on the plane. He'd sit across from Steve and they would glare at each other some more; then Steve would demand to know what was wrong with him. Tony would make some sarcastic reply. Steve would start pointing out all of Tony's mistakes, and soon the whole thing would devolve into a giant argument. Thor would try to play peacemaker, Clint and Natasha would hide in the cockpit, and poor Bruce would curl up in a corner and pretend to sleep.
Tony really didn't have the energy to go through that again.
“Actually,” he said to Steve, “I think I'll find my own way home. You know, stretch the old repulsors.”
From his earpiece, Jarvis spoke up, “Sir, given the circumstances, flying the armour back would not...”
“Quiet, J,” Tony shushed him.
Steve frowned. He opened his mouth as if to say something but Bruce came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Some whispers passed between the two of them; then Bruce came down the ramp and joined Tony.
“You alright?” he asked. His post-hulk-out blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and he looked almost as tired as Tony felt.
“Me?” said Tony. “I'm awesome, fantastic, peachy-keen.”
“Huh,” said Bruce incredulously. “Because you know you look like crap.”
Tony waved his hand vaguely at their surroundings. “It's the lighting. It doesn't really bring out my best features.”
“Yeah. I suppose those emergency spotlights always give people that pale, red-eyed, just back from the dead look.”
“Exactly,” Tony replied having no intention of giving up the game even when he knew Bruce was just playing along. “I'd be my usual ruggedly handsome self in daylight.”
Bruce's lips twisted in a halfhearted smirk. “No comment.” He turned his gaze to the destruction around them. “I don't remember much but I take it things didn't go so well.”
“You think?” Tony said bitterly, the care-free facade falling away. The weariness was making itself felt all the way down to his bones.
Bruce sighed like a man who had had to put up with Tony Stark one too many times. “Tony, you know you did...”
Tony held up a hand. “Don't you dare go all pep talk on me. I performed like a drugged up monkey out there. My flying sucked. My reaction time sucked. And my aim? I think I hit more buildings than drones...”
“From what I remember those drones were pretty damn fast.”
“I should have been faster!” Tony snapped, his sudden cry startling even himself.
He closed his eyes taking a few seconds just to breath trying to pull the frayed pieces of himself back together. When he opened them once more, he found Bruce gazing searchingly at him, his brow furrowed.
“When was last time you got some sleep?”
The sudden change of topic momentarily stumped Tony.
Sleep? Tony's fingers twitched as he felt the urge to rub his sore eyes once again. Sleep hadn't exactly been occurring recently. Mostly it had just been occasional restless dozing full of rampaging nightmares. It would have been better if Pepper were around, he always slept better with her beside him, but she'd been at a conference in Germany for the past week.
“Approximately forty-seven hours ago,” Jarvis supplied helpfully using the armour's speakers so Bruce could hear him too. “Though that was only for one and a half hours. Your last full night of sleep was...”
“Jarvis,” Tony interrupted with a sigh. “What have I told you about sharing personal information?”
“I was merely following your request to provide all necessary information which could aid in the operation of the Avengers, sir. Shall I also inform him of your current eating habits?”
If Tony could have, he would have slapped a hand across his face. He cursed the metal gloves once more along with smartass A.I.s.
“Tony...” Bruce was giving him that worried look, the one Pepper often gave him. The one that seemed to convey both fear for his well-being and his sanity.
“Forty-seven hours is nothing,” Tony insisted defensively. “I've gone without sleep for way longer than that. I'm fine. I'm fine.”
Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Peachy-keen?”
“Peachy-keen,” Tony repeated and nodded his head. Glancing back at the Quinjet, he added, “Shouldn't you be getting back? I think our glorious fearless leader is getting impatient.”
“I was waiting for you,” said Bruce.
“Uh uh,” said Tony shaking his head this time. “I'm making my own way home, remember? Have flying armoured suit will travel?”
Bruce gave him a level look. “We're in Kuala Lumpur, Tony. Your suit is fast but it's still going to take you a few hours to get back to New York and you're exhausted. Do you even have enough power left after the fight?”
Tony waved a hand as if the mere idea of him being low on power were a ludicrous impossibility. “Oh, I've got plenty of juice left in the old suit. Right, Jarvis?”
“There is enough power to make it back to the tower,” Jarvis replied. “However I would not recommend...”
“See. Plenty of power.”
Bruce looked unconvinced. “I don't think going off on your own is a good idea right now.”
Tony snorted. “And having Captain Perfect Pants and me in a small confined space is? No, thanks.”
“He's worried about you,” said Bruce. “We're all worried about you.”
“Worried that I'll fuck things up again,” Tony muttered gazing at the ground.
“Worried you'll get yourself killed.”
Tony's head snapped up. He opened his mouth to make another smartass comment and failed.
“So you were off your game today,” Bruce said some of the temper he always kept carefully controlled starting to bleed through into his voice. “So what? You're human. It happens. The important thing is why it happened. You've been out of it for a while now. Just tell us what's going on. We want to help.”
The pleading look on Bruce's face was too much for Tony. Suddenly, it was all too much for Tony. Bruce's pleading look. Steve's patriotic glare. The devastation surrounding him. It felt like he had been dragged naked over a desert road, crushed in a trash compactor, and made to listen to Justin Bieber songs at high volume for twenty-four hours straight. Both his brain and body had had enough.
He let out a deep breath. “Can we just not do this now?” he said, his voice slow and rough.
“Tony, we need to talk about this,” Bruce insisted.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony muttered. He took the helmet from under his arm and placed it back on his head. The familiar digital displays that sprang up before him were comforting as was having a mask on that he didn't have to work for, a convenient barrier between him and everyone else. “I'll see you back home.”
“Tony, wait...” Bruce began but it was too late. His voice was drowned out by the sound of repulsors firing.
Tony shot up into the sky. The buildings streaked below him as he left his teammates and the debris strewn battlefield behind.
“Sir,” said Jarvis. “Captain Rogers is attempting to contact you.”
“Forget it, Jarvis,” Tony replied. “Turn the radio off.”
“But sir...”
“Turn it off!”
He was escaping, or if he was being truthful with himself which he seldom was, he was running away or rather flying away. Flying had never been an ambition of Tony's. It hadn't even been the main purpose of creating the armour, but sometimes it felt like the best thing to come out of it. Buildings became fields became water, and soon all there was was just the background hum of the armour, the lights of the stars above him, and the ocean below him.
Eventually, the tension in his body started to fade and his lungs took in deep calm breaths as he finally relaxed. He thought of asking Jarvis to play some tunes or even bring up some work he could look at to break the monotony of the flight, but he found it hard to call up the effort through the warm haze that was starting to envelope his brain.
The ocean streamed by below him.
The constellations passed by over head.
His eyelids began to droop.
An alarm blared and his eyes snapped open again. “What...?” he mumbled.
“Sir,” said Jarvis. “You are deviating from the proposed flight route.”
Almost reluctantly, Tony's eyes focused on the display in front of him and saw he was veering too far south.
“Oh, right.”
He switched direction. He flew on the right course for a while but it wasn't long before his wandering mind began to doze off again.
An alarm sounded a second time dragging Tony back into the real world.
“Sir, the heading has deviated once more,” said Jarvis.
“Ok, ok,” Tony said sleepily. “I've got it.”
He'd been heading too far north this time but he was able to correct it again. A few wispy clouds passed by as he continued on course. The arc-reactor powering the armour hummed soothingly. Soon, his eyelids grew heavy once more, his breathing became shallower, and he drifted off into darkness.
This time a much louder alarm woke him.
“Sir, altitude has gone below 1000 feet,” said Jarvis, a surprising amount of anxiety in his normally passive voice.
Tony opened his eyes to see nothing but ocean in front of him, miles of empty ocean, and it looked like he was headed in a shallow dive right towards it.
He panicked. His limbs, which normally Jarvis helped keep locked in position on long distance flights, flailed about madly and he tumbled about in the air buffeted by the wind. He became a plummeting windmill of spinning metal and intermittently firing repulsors until he was, eventually, able to get back in control.
For a moment, he just hovered there in mid-air breathing heavily.
“Sir, perhaps I should take full control until we reach our destination,” said Jarvis.
“Full control?” Tony replied uncertainly, still gasping for air.
“Unless you'd rather go for a late night swim?”
Tony gazed down at the large expanse of dark ocean below him.
“I've been a fucking idiot again, haven't I?” he said.
“I couldn't possibly comment, sir,” replied the A.I.
Tony let out a long sigh. “Take me home, J.”
He felt the armour shift around him, legs straightening, arms pinned to his sides, and then he was horizontal and soaring through the sky once more. Despite not being in control, he felt strangely safe cocooned in the armour. The world sped by and soon a feeling of peace returned. With it came sleep, real sleep that he hadn't had in a long, long time.
Sometime later a voice penetrated the fog that had surrounded him.
“Sir?” said Jarvis.
“Hmm?” Tony said not bothering to open his eyes.
“We have arrived at the tower.”
“Ok, J,” Tony replied, his voice not much more than a mumbled sigh. He had no wish to leave the peaceful darkness he'd finally found.
“Shall I give you back control of the armour?”
Tony's eyes reluctantly blinked open. He was, in fact, in the tower. He was standing in the middle of the large living room that occupied most of the common floor. Across the room, he spotted a couch amongst a collection of loveseats and armchairs that surrounded a large glass coffee table.
The couch looked extremely comfortable and soft and inviting.
“Couch,” he said sleepily.
Thankfully despite the vagueness of the instruction, Jarvis understood precisely what he meant and the armour walked in the direction of the couch taking Tony with it.
“Out, J,” he muttered once he'd reached his destination.
The armour opened up. Tony stumbled a step and then pretty much collapsed onto the waiting couch. The soft surface was blissful to sink into and in a fraction of a second he was back in the world of sleep he'd barely stepped out of.
He half-woke again an indeterminable time later when he felt a blanket fall across his shoulders.
“How the hell did he make it back?” asked a voice.
“No clue,” another replied. “I was expecting to hear he'd gone down in the middle of the Pacific.”
There was a loud sigh. “One of these days were going to have to strap him down and have a real talk with him.”
“Later. Let him rest. He needs it.”
When the voices had stopped and the sound of footsteps had faded into the distance, Tony risked a quiet, “J?”
The voice of the A.I. came through his earpiece. “You are on the couch in the living room, sir. The tower is secure. The other Avengers have returned and are all unharmed and accounted for.”
“'S good, good,” Tony mumbled as he started to drift off once more. “G'night, J.”
“Goodnight, sir,” Jarvis replied. “Sweet dreams.”
Chapter 4
