Chapter Text
“What the hell happened here?”
It was early in the afternoon when the Avengers (minus Tony, who was at some meeting) found the living room full of marks. They were small and red and, upon closer inspection, they read—
“’Property of Tony Stark’?” Clint stared at the previously white, clean table that was now covered with about a dozen of the same mark. “Who the fuck would stamp that all over the table? And everything else, for that matter?”
And, indeed, all the other pieces of furniture were marked with the same red ink. Even the walls weren’t spared.
“We could probably rule Tony out,” Bruce said with a shake of his head.
“It’s his name on the stamp,” Clint protested.
“He’s been in Malibu for a couple of days,” Natasha reminded him with a roll of her eyes. “Pepper made sure of that.”
“Then who’d do something like this?” Steve wondered.
“I doubt Tony’s going to be pleased with this,” Phil interjected, an eyebrow raised, “even with his name there.”
“This is quite the mystery, my friends!” Thor boomed with a gleeful expression. “We must solve it in a manner worthy of the great Sherlock Holmes!”
“Ooh, can I wear a deerstalker hat?”
“No costumes, Clint.”
The archer blew a raspberry at Agent Coulson, earning him a pointed look.
“There weren’t any stamps when we left, were there?” Steve asked.
“No. We left at around eleven for lunch.” Natasha’s eyes darted back and forth, taking in the details. “It’s been three hours since then.”
“Plenty of time to have a stamping spree.” Bruce was examining the stamp-covered wall. “The highest stamp appears to be at around five feet and three inches.”
“The only ones aside from us with access to this floor are Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Jane and Darcy, right?” Steve blinked at the stamps on the glass window.
“I don't think any of them would want to do something like this. None of them would want to boost Tony’s ego with this, except Tony himself.”
“As if the branding on all gadgets here don’t proclaim his company name enough.”
“Nothing seems to be stamped on anything below a feet from the floor.”
“Do you think the other rooms have stamps on them too?”
In a silent agreement, everyone headed to different parts of the floor. Ten minutes later, they congregated back in the living room.
“The kitchen’s filled with stamps too.”
“The gym wasn’t spared.”
“Neither was the gaming room.”
“The dining hall was generously filled with similar marks!”
“Even the balcony has some.”
“Who’d seriously do something like this?”
“Whoever it is better watch out. Seeing Stark’s name all around is annoying.”
“Friends! Can we not make an inquiry to the master of the house?”
Silence reigned in the wake of Thor’s suggestion.
“JARVIS?”
“Yes, Captain Rogers?”
“You know who did this, don’t you?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Clint demanded.
“Ah, you seemed to be enjoying yourselves with the investigation so I refrained from mentioning it.” Despite being an AI, dry humor was apparent in JARVIS’ computerized voice.
“Well? Who is it?”
“That would be—”
He was interrupted by Steve’s yelp.
Alarmed, everyone turned to him warily, their hands reaching for their respective weapons as their automatic response.
“Steve, are you all right?”
Steve turned around, having felt something touch him from behind. He gaped at the sight of Dummy wheeling from side to side.
The robot was holding a stamp. Steve had no doubt that it read, ‘Property of Tony Stark’ backwards.
He was startled at the sudden laughter erupting from the others.
“Oh, that’s fitting.”
Even Coulson’s lips were twitching upwards.
Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s fitting?”
“You have a stamp on your ass,” Natasha told him with a snort.
A stamp—
—Steve felt his cheeks redden slightly.
“You’ve been owned, Rogers!” Clint was holding onto the back of the couch for support.
Predictably, his blush deepened. But he couldn't find it in himself to be offended. Not with that on his…uh, rear.