Chapter Text
7:00 am, Monday morning, Stark Tower
Y/N King stepped out of the elevator directly into a ballroom and one of the biggest messes she had ever seen. She sighed as she took in the hundreds of empty plastic cups littering the floor alongside streamers, deflated balloons, glitter, and something gold and gooey that she couldn’t immediately identify.
“Greetings, Mrs. King,” a soft, British male voice said. Y/N jerked her head around the large room but didn’t see anyone.
“Hello?” she called out tentatively, pulling her large brown purse close to her chest and taking a step back toward the elevator, ready to hit the call button.
“Good morning,” the voice said. “My name is JARVIS.”
“Good morning, Jarvis,” Y/N replied politely, her eyes darting around cautiously. “Um, w-where are you?”
“Please do not be afraid, Mrs. King. I’m an artificial intelligence system and I run this building. . I am Mr. Stark’s personal assistant, of sorts.”
“Oh,” Y/N said rather dumbly. “Um, well, that’s kind of cool. S-should I look in any particular direction to talk to you or are you just kind of…um… everywhere? And, um, does JARVIS stand for something?”
“I am, as you say, everywhere. And JARVIS stands for Just Another Rather Very Intelligent System.”
Y/N let out a small laugh in spite of herself, “That seems to fit you very well JARVIS.”
“Thank you, Mrs. King,” JARVIS replied. “Mr. Stark is unfortunately indisposed this morning and will not be able to attend your interview, however, I have reviewed your application and background check and am authorized to hire you. And, I regret to inform you, that you have your work cut out for you today.”
“Indeed, I do,” Y/N sighed. “JARVIS, please don’t be offended by this but, is this mess normal?”
“It is not,” JARVIS replied confidently. “Sir had a party last night and it was rather more… enthusiastic than normal.”
“Okay,” Y/N took in the scattered remnants of what she hoped had been a good time. If she didn’t need a job so badly and if working for Stark didn’t come with a boatload of benefits, this mess might have made her reconsider. “Well, how about we take it one room at a time and you can direct me as needed. Alright?”
“Very well, Mrs. King,” JARVIS answered. “Welcome to Stark Tower.”
“Thank you, JARVIS.”
Y/N set down her purse on a small table next to the elevator doors and rolled up the sleeves of her button up, collared work shirt, being careful not to push them past her elbows. JARVIS directed her around the residence floor of the tower, showing her where all the cleaning supplies were stored and how to activate the robotic cleaners already installed in the building. Small robots that acted as vacuum cleaners, dusters, trash collectors, and even a robot that went around straightening the art on the walls with a level.
“JARVIS,” Y/N paused while walking down a hallway. “Why does Mr. Stark even need a housekeeper when he has you and all this technology to take care of things for him?”
“I am capable of many things, Mrs. King, and Mr. Stark has created many other machines to take care of the house, but there are some things that require, shall we say, a woman’s touch and thoughtfulness of which my systems are not capable.”
“I see,” Y/N nodded and continued walking down the hallway. “I guess that makes sense.”
The rest of the morning was spent learning how to direct the many machines to clean the ballroom and other unoccupied rooms of the main resident floor of the tower. JARVIS directed her from room to room, wisely avoiding the bedrooms until tomorrow. The last thing she needed on her first day of work is to deal with a hungover Tony Stark.
Once all the rooms where clean, except for the bedrooms, she set up a pot of coffee for JARVIS when he sensed someone waking up and a huge plate full of thick bacon. She also put together a quick chicken casserole with ingredients she found in the kitchen and gave JARVIS instructions on baking it whenever anyone was ready to eat. Based on the mess from the party, she guessed they would have some impressive hangovers. It was nearly 4:30 pm by the time she left the tower.
5:00 pm, Monday afternoon, Stark Tower
Tony stumbled into the kitchen, following his nose to the coffee pot and finding a plate full of crispy bacon next to it. He poured coffee into his Iron Man mug and grabbed a handful of bacon. It was the perfect remedy for his hangover. Last night’s party had been impressive, even for the great Tony Stark. He didn’t remember all of it, but based on the pain radiating through his head, it must have been spectacular.
Settling on a stool at the counter, he leaned his forehead on his palm. Taking a deep breath, he asked Jarvis for a rundown of the damage done at the party and the state of the ballroom. The damage was minimal but the ballroom had already been cleaned. Tony didn’t remember asking Jarvis to take care of that and simply assumed that he did it when he was drunk. Thanking the AI, he refilled his coffee, grabbed another handful of bacon. Steve and Bucky walked in, one right behind the other, looking way too fresh given how much they drank last night.
“How’s the head, Tony?” Steve asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“Delightful,” Tony mumbled from behind his steaming mug. “Thanks for cooking bacon though.”
“We didn’t cook it,” Bucky replied, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his large chest.
“Who did then?” Tony asked. “Who else is awake?”
“I don’t know who cooked it,” Steve said. “Clint and Nat left after the party last night, Sam is still sleeping and Buck and I have been downstairs in the gym all since 8:30. We got a late start.”
“JARVIS,” Tony called. “Who cooked bacon?”
“Mrs. King, Sir.”
The three men paused, each wracking their brains trying to figure out if they should know who Mrs. King was. Three shrugs later, Tony raised his voice again.
“Who is Mrs. King, JARVIS?”
“Your new housekeeper, sir,” JARVIS replied.
“What happened to Mrs. Tumbleweed?” Tony asked.
“Treaklehorn,” Bucky corrected.
“Trimblefoot?” Steve questioned.
“Mrs. Trickelbank resigned, Sir,” JARVIS answered.
“Oh, and you hired a new housekeeper? When did that happen?”
“This morning, Sir.”
“Oh,” Tony took a bite of bacon. “Well done, JARVIS.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“You two didn’t see anyone when you went downstairs?” he asked Bucky and Steve.
“Nope, but we heard the vacuums going in the ballroom, she must have been in there,” Bucky replied. “JARVIS knows what he’s doing right? Do we need to look into this Mrs. King?”
“If JARVIS hired her, that means she met all the security standards that Steve and I put into place,” Tony replied, shaking his head and immediately regretting it.
Bucky frowned but didn’t reply and the three men dispersed to their own corners of the tower. Tony went in search of those little red pills Bruce had given him for hangovers and then went back to bed.
8:00 pm, Still Monday, Stark Tower
Tony woke slowly, testing the pain level of his head. Finding it tolerable, he got out of bed and stumbled into a hot shower. Dry and dressed, he made his way to the kitchen, his stomach rumbling.
“JARVIS,” he mumbled. “Where is everyone? Do we have any food?”
“Everyone has gone out for the evening. I took the liberty of baking your dinner when you woke up. It’s ready to come out of the oven now.”
“Oh, thanks,” Tony opened the oven and the heavenly scent of chicken, vegetables, and stuffing wafted out. “Wait. JARVIS, who put this together? Last time I checked I hadn’t given you hands yet.”
“Mrs. King, Sir.”
“Right. Remind me to meet her, JARVIS,” Tony spooned a large, steaming helping into a bowl and carefully took a bite. It was heaven in his mouth. The perfect post hangover meal. He grabbed his bowl and headed toward his lab to get ready to leave for a mission at 6 am the next morning.
10 pm, still Monday, Stark Tower
Steve and Bucky strolled through the kitchen on their way to their rooms and found most of a pan of some kind of chicken casserole. Steve raised an eyebrow Bucky and nodded toward the pan. Bucky leaned over and sniffed the food. Not detecting any scent of poison, he dipped his metal pinky into the pan and cautiously licked at the food that stuck to it. Both his eyebrows shot to his hairline and he nodded at Steve. Each man grabbed a fork and ate right out of the pan. Within minutes, the remainder of the chicken casserole was only a tasty memory.