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“Welcome to Level 6, Agent Winchester,” Assistant Director Hill says, sliding a new badge across the table towards Dean.
Dean resists the urge to make a smartass remark; he’s worked hard to get to this point, and Hill has the reputation of being someone who won’t put up with anybody’s shit. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Your first assignment will be to provide security to Tony Stark,” she continues. “He’ll be giving the keynote address at an engineering conference in New York City. We don’t expect any trouble, but Stark tends to attract it.”
Dean keeps his expression sober. “I’m happy to accept any assignment that comes my way.”
“Yes, well, you might change your tune when you spend any length of time with Stark,” Hill replies. “Stick with him, and don’t let anything happen to him.”
“I’ll do my best,” Dean promises.
Hill nods. “You’ll find him at Stark Tower.”
“Anything else I should know?” Dean asks.
Hill smiles. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
It’s not the first time Dean’s heard those words.
~~~~~
Dean tips his head back, looking up at Stark Tower, and adjusts his tie. No one replaced the rest of the letters after the Battle of Manhattan, so now the sign just reads “A” with a flourish. He adjusts his grip on his bag, and walks through the front doors and up to the receptionist’s desk in the middle of the lobby.
She’s young and dressed in a dark suit, but Dean wouldn’t be surprised to find out that she’s packing. “Agent Winchester,” he says with one of his most charming grins.
“Mr. Stark is expecting you, sir,” she replies, with no more than a brief smile. “The elevator will take you to his workshop. We had to move it to the basement.”
Dean hefts his bag. “Right. Thanks.”
The elevator opens into one of the basement levels, and Dean steps into a wall of classic rock. AC/DC’s “Back in Black” blares from the speakers, and Dean grins.
It appears that he and Stark share a common taste in music.
“I’m busy, come back later!” Stark shouts.
“I can wait,” Dean replies, setting his bag down.
Stark shoots him a disgruntled look over his shoulder. “You the agent they sent to replace Coulson?”
Dean knows who Coulson is, of course; he’d attended his memorial service. “For right now, I guess.”
Stark grunts. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“No hurry,” Dean replies easily.
He’s curious, though, so he sets down his bag and begins wandering around the edges of the workshop, passing by the cars that make him salivate, itching to look under the hood.
In all the years since joining the Army, then Spec-Ops, then SHIELD, Dean has never lost his love for cars, particularly classic cars, and Stark has some doozies.
“A 1967 Shelby Cobra,” Dean murmurs. “Fucking hell. And a Saleen S7!”
“Jarvis, volume low,” Stark says. “What do you know about cars?”
“Not as much as I’d like,” Dean replies. He touches the S7’s hood reverently. “But this one has a 750 horsepower, 7-liter, all aluminum engine, capable of more than 200 mph.”
Stark advances on him. “You know something about engines.”
Dean’s eye is caught by the engine on his workbench. “You got one there?”
“I do,” Stark replies. “Tell me what you see.”
Distantly, Dean recognizes a test when he hears one, but he doesn’t care. He has an engine in front of him—a nicer one than he’ll ever be able to afford—and he has blanket permission to check it out.
“180 cubic inches,” Dean murmurs, circling the bench. “V12—is this a Ferrari 250?”
“A 1961 Ferrari 250 GT SWB California Spyder,” Stark confirms.
Dean reaches out to touch the engine, and then pulls his hand back, realizing he doesn’t have permission.
“Go for it,” Stark says, giving him a sharp look. “Do your worst.”
Dean knows he probably shouldn’t. He should keep his distance, maintain formality, but the engine is right there, and Dean has no idea when he’ll get his hands on an engine like this again.
He takes off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Stark replies.
Dean’s elbows-deep in engine parts in a few minutes, although he’s not sure he should point out the issues he sees.
“Tell me what you see,” Stark says.
Dean begins a running commentary of possible problems as he examines it, knowing that Stark has probably found all of those things by now, but unwilling to appear stupid.
He’s an idiot compared to Stark, but Dean knows engines, and he thinks proving that will go a long way towards getting Stark’s cooperation.
So, Dean approaches the engine like a test, talking out loud as he checks it out, and when he finishes up, he asks, “Did I pass?”
Stark flashes a quick grin. “With flying colors, no less.”
“This is a gorgeous engine,” Dean says.
“Feel free to prowl around,” Stark offers. “Or give me a hand.”
Half an hour later, Dean can’t believe that he’s in Tony Stark’s workshop, working on an engine that probably costs more than he’ll make in an entire lifetime, and holding a spirited conversation on classic cars with one of the richest, most famous men in the world.
“Hey, Bruce!” Stark exclaims while Dean’s tinkering and focused on the engine. “Just the guy I wanted to see.”
Dean glances up, seeing a man about Stark’s age, with graying hair and a slightly bemused expression.
“You always say that,” Bruce replies, shoving his hands in his pockets and giving Dean a pointed look.
“And I always mean it.” Stark grins. “I forgot you two hadn’t met. Bruce, this is Agent Winchester. He’s providing security for the conference.”
“I thought you said you didn’t need a bodyguard,” Bruce replies.
“Hey, SHIELD sent him,” Stark says. “I told them no, and Fury didn’t listen.”
Dean’s beginning to get the feeling that there’s something more going on. “I just made Level 6,” Dean offers.
Bruce gives Stark a significant look. “Congratulations,” Bruce says sincerely.
“Hey, you want a drink to celebrate?” Stark asks.
Dean hesitates. He’s not technically on duty until Stark’s at the conference, and he figures one drink won’t hurt. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” Bruce says. “You know how I feel about cars.”
“But I love you anyway,” Tony replies, hauling him in for a kiss.
Dean looks away, giving them their privacy. He hadn’t heard that Stark had a boyfriend—not that it’s any of his business, and not that he cares. Dean has very much a live and let live philosophy.
Besides, he has an engine to focus on, and it isn’t every day that he gets to work on a car like this.
~~~~~
Dean decides that the scuttlebutt doesn’t do Stark justice. Stark might drive Romanoff crazy, but he’s a nice guy. He’s got excellent booze, and even better cars, and they mess around with engines and drink, and Dean can’t remember a more satisfying afternoon in a long time.
“So, look, you should stay here tonight,” Stark says. “I don’t know where SHIELD’s putting you up, but I’ll bet it’s not as nice as the spare room.”
“I don’t want to put you out,” Dean protests half-heartedly.
Stark waves away his protest. “You’re not. I would tell you if you were.”
Dean doesn’t see the harm in accepting Stark’s offer, and he has no doubt that Stark is correct, and he’ll be more comfortable at the Tower. Plus, he’s closer to his target this way.
He sleeps well that night, with no nightmares to plague him, which is something of a change for him, although maybe it was just the very good booze.
Stark and Bruce are drinking coffee when Dean emerges the next morning, all suited up and ready to go. “Good morning.”
“There’s coffee if you want it, Agent Winchester,” Bruce says.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Dean replies. “Thanks.”
Stark isn’t scheduled to give his keynote address until that evening, and he doesn’t appear to be in a hurry to get to the conference. Dean knows that he won’t be the only SHIELD agent there, just the only one specifically assigned to Stark. He tells Dean to make himself at home and disappears with Bruce.
Dean had thought they’d be leaving a little earlier, but he has some paperwork he can power through while he waits. So, he settles down on the couch and wonders aloud, “Now, where would Stark put the remote?”
“There is no remote control, Agent Winchester, but I would be happy to assist you in whatever way I can,” says a disembodied voice. Weirdly enough, the voice sounds British.
Dean realizes that he’s not terribly surprised. This is Stark, after all. “I just thought I might watch something on television.”
“What would you like to watch?”
Dean is rapidly reaching his threshold for new technology. “I feel weird that we haven’t been introduced, even though you seem to know me.”
“I’m Jarvis, sir. I am an artificial intelligence created with the express purpose of assisting Mr. Stark.”
And now Dean can place it. He remembers the dossier including a note on Jarvis, but the file called him Stark’s “personal assistant.”
Dean is beginning to think that the SHIELD file left a few things out on purpose. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been hazed.
“Nice to meet you,” Dean says, for lack of another response. “You got any episodes of Dr. Sexy, M.D.?”
“I believe that can be arranged,” Jarvis replies.
Dean has finished writing the last of his reports and is starting to read the stack of files he’d been given as a newly minted Level 6, when Stark emerges with Bruce in tow. Both of them are in suits and ties, although Bruce’s looks a little big on him.
“You ready to go?” Dean asks, rising.
“Let’s do this thing,” Stark says. “I still can’t believe I let Pepper rope me into this.”
Bruce snorts. “You love talking about arc reactor technology.”
Stark gives him a look. “I like talking to you about it. I don’t even mind talking to other smart, like-minded people. But standing up in front of a group and giving a lecture? Not really my speed. It would be better if I were drunk.”
“Later,” Bruce says firmly. “I’m sure you and Agent Winchester can talk engines again.”
“Call me Dean,” he says.
Stark smirks. “It’s nice to know that not all SHIELD agents come complete with sticks up their—”
“Tony.” Bruce cuts him off. “Be nice.”
“I’m always nice!” Stark protests, and grins at Dean. “I was nice last night, right?”
Dean shrugs. “Honestly, the reports don’t do your hospitality justice.”
“See?” Stark asks.
Bruce just shakes his head. “You like him because he can match you drink for drink.”
Stark appears to think about that for a moment. “So can Thor, but he can’t talk engines, and he thinks Loki’s science is magic.”
“If you ascribe to the definition of magic being science we don’t yet understand,” Bruce begins.
Tony makes a disbelieving sound. “Which should make Thor less inclined to think of it as magic, considering that he’s Asgardian!”
Dean doesn’t follow the rest of their debate, and so he half tunes it out, beginning to slip into that state of watchful readiness that he always gets when he’s on the job. Stark and Bruce occupy themselves on the drive to the hotel where the conference is being held, and Dean goes over the logistics in his head.
There will be agents at the door, and there are a number of high profile scientists scheduled to be there, so security should be fairly tight. Hotel staff had been vetted, and other potential targets have their own personal bodyguards.
No one had told Dean that Stark would be bringing a plus one, but this is Tony Stark, and he’s notoriously unpredictable. That’s one reason he drives everybody at SHIELD crazy.
Well, except for Dean, but Dean’s entire childhood had been unpredictable, so he finds it refreshing in a way.
Dean is the first to exit the limo, and Stark and Bruce quiet down. When they exit the vehicle, they stay close together, but there’s no indication that they’re together, and Dean realizes just why he hadn’t heard rumors that Stark had a boyfriend.
Apparently, they’re flying under the radar for now. He’s impressed they’ve managed it so far, considering how frequently Stark is in the public eye.
Dean keeps his eyes peeled as he enters the lobby. He can hear the voice of the lead agent through his earpiece, keeping everyone updated on the situation, and Dean is a little surprised they called Sitwell in to run things. He’s usually on detail as Avenger liaison.
Of course, that just means that SHIELD thinks that something might go down, and maybe he should be surprised, but he’s not.
Even at Level 6, it’s still need to know, and apparently, Dean didn’t need to know.
The hotel’s ballroom is packed with science types, and Dean can see a few military uniforms, and expensive suits. Dean knows that this is the sort of conference where contracts get offered and recruitment occurs, and that means a lot of people from all walks of life are here.
That makes security a little more of a bitch, so maybe Dean shouldn’t be surprised that they’d called in Sitwell.
Dean stays close to Stark as they make their way across the crowded ballroom, Bruce at Stark’s heels. Dean figures he can keep an eye on Bruce just as easily. Dean doesn’t really do permanent relationships, but he’s aware that damage to a significant other pretty much means damage to the target.
Also, Bruce seems like a nice guy, and there aren’t all that many of them in the world.
Bruce doesn’t sit down, but he doesn’t go up on stage either, standing at the edge of the stage against the wall and managing to fade into the background somehow.
Dean might have wondered about that, but Stark was taking the stairs to thunderous applause, and Dean has one job to do, and that’s keep Tony Stark in one piece.
He stands at the back, near the backdrop, scanning the crowd for threats as Stark gives his keynote speech. If he hadn’t been working, Dean might have paid a little more attention; it’s way beyond his level, but Stark has plenty of jokes and pop culture references.
Stark gets through his speech, and Dean’s alertness ratchets up. There are natural times for attack—while Stark is moving through the crowd, while giving his speech, and while making his way off the stage.
When Stark pauses to talk to Bruce at the bottom of the stairs, Dean sees a movement from the crowd and then the barrel of a gun. “Down!” Dean shouts.
Stark actually drops immediately, but Bruce looks around as though searching for the threat, and Dean doesn’t feel as though he has any choice but to tackle him. The fact that a gun goes off at the same time, and Dean takes a bullet—
Well, maybe Dean will claim credit for that later, but it’s mostly a product of really bad timing on his part, which is par for the course, and his tendency to try and protect everybody, whether they’re his designated target or not.
He’s been reprimanded for that before.
“Oh, fuck,” Stark says, and starts hauling Dean away.
He’s got a vest on, but the bullet had punched right through it, and the pain and impact have left him breathless. He’s not so out of it that he doesn’t see Bruce’s skin turn green, however, or hear a roar that can only come from the Hulk.
Stark flips over a table to provide some shelter, and he drags Dean behind it, stripping off his own suit jacket to press it against Dean’s shoulder.
Dean grunts with the pain, and hears screams. “Shouldn’t we help?”
Stark pokes his head up above the table. “Nah. Multiple bad guys, multiple shooters, best to let the Big Guy handle things. He’s pretty good about not going after civilians at this point.”
“Then why are we hiding?” Dean asks.
Someone fires a gun. “That would be why.”
Dean grunts as Stark presses harder. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“I don’t know,” Stark says with a grin. “You seem smarter than most of the other SHIELD agents Fury’s sent.”
“I tried to take a bullet for the Hulk!” Dean replies, keeping his voice low but emphatic. I had no idea you were dating Bruce Banner.”
Stark blinks. “You didn’t know?”
“You said he was Bruce,” Dean protests. “I just thought he was your boyfriend!”
Stark laughs. “I think you’re the first person to have that reaction.”
“What reaction?” Dean asks.
Stark hesitates. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Why not?” Dean asks, breathing through the pain.
“Would you have done the same thing if you’d known you were protecting the Hulk?”
Dean closes his eyes. “Yeah. I mean, maybe not if he was actually the Hulk, but Bruce? Sure.” There’s another roar, and the sound of smashing. “Partially for that reason, and partially because the shrinks tell me I have a savior complex or some shit like that.”
“Most SHIELD agents focus on the fact that Bruce can turn into the Hulk, and they don’t protect him. The last couple of liaisons we’ve had suggested shooting him,” Stark replies.
Dean stares at him. “Why the fuck would anybody shoot at him? I’d want him on my side.”
“I think it’s mostly reflex,” Stark replies with dark humor. “Steve didn’t shoot at him.”
It takes Dean a moment to figure out that “Steve” is actually Captain fucking America. “Hasn’t somebody nominated him for sainthood yet?”
Stark laughs. “Probably. Just sit tight. We’ll wait for Big Green to get done, and then we’ll call for the medics. It’s best not to give the Hulk additional targets if you can avoid it.”
Dean can still breathe, which is probably a good sign, and although he’s lightheaded from pain and blood loss, he’s had way worse. “I’m good for a little while.”
About fifteen minutes pass, and then Bruce calls out, “Tony? Dean? You guys okay?”
“Dean needs a medic, but I’m in one piece,” Tony replies. “Come take a look, okay?”
Dean can hear someone shouting orders, and he knows there are SHIELD agents on the way to their position now that the Hulk is gone.
Bruce rounds the table, his pants tattered, and his chest and feet bare. “Hey, Dean. Sorry about this.”
“My own fault,” Dean replies with a wince as Bruce pulls Tony’s suit jacket away to look at his wound. “I should have realized you were also the Hulk.”
Bruce smiles. “Honestly? The fact you didn’t know, and didn’t treat me differently, is appreciated.”
“I’d do it all over again,” Dean admits.
Bruce helps him remove his vest. “Also appreciated. Good news, it doesn’t look like you’re spurting blood, so the bullet probably didn’t hit an artery.”
“Yay,” Dean says with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
“Looks like SHIELD called for paramedics,” Stark announces. “Bruce, what’s the verdict?”
“He’s probably not going to die,” Bruce replies.
Dean tries for a smirk. “Your faith is impressive.”
“I’m being realistic,” Bruce replies. “And I’m not a medical doctor, as I keep reminding people.”
“Fine, you’re the team medic,” Stark says. “You have more experience than any of us do.”
Bruce grunts. “Maybe so.”
“You know, I think we should keep Agent Winchester around,” Stark says.
“What do you think I’m trying to do, Tony?” Bruce asks.
Which is when Dean passes out.
He wakes up in SHIELD medical with his right arm strapped to his chest. There’s a huge flower arrangement next to his bed with a card displayed prominently. “Get well soon!” it says, although no one has signed it.
Dean stares at the ceiling, trying to figure out how he feels about his assignment and decides he didn’t do too badly. Obviously, he didn’t know Bruce would turn into the Hulk, but he could easily spin it as wanting to protect the populace, and preventing serious injury to Bruce Banner falls under that mission statement.
“Well, it seems I should congratulate you.”
Dean turns his head to see Hill standing just inside the doorway. “On getting shot?” he asks.
“No, on impressing both Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner,” she replies. “Do you know how many liaisons we’ve sent?”
“Stark said most of them tried to shoot the Hulk,” Dean points out.
“You didn’t.”
Dean smirks, figuring he can blame the pain medication on his impertinence. “Seemed futile. I’d rather let him smash the bad guys.”
“Are you up for it?” Hill asks.
Dean blinks. “Up for what?”
“Avengers liaison to SHIELD,” she replies. “We need Sitwell elsewhere.”
Dean feels a slow smile break out over his face. “Uh, yeah, sure. Whatever assignment you want to give me, like I said.”
“Welcome to the Avengers Initiative, Agent Winchester,” Hill replies, arching one perfect eyebrow. “Good luck.”
Dean grins. “Yeah, I’m going to need it. I’ve heard that before.”
He’s beginning to think his luck might be turning around.