Chapter Text
So. It turned out that Bruce's Betty was, in fact, one Elizabeth Ross. As in, the daughter of General 'I hate you and everything you stand for, Stark' Ross. Also, General 'Leading the charge against the Hulk' Ross. In fact, General 'Just generally not a happy person' Ross.
Huh. Awkward.
It also turned out that General Ross was more or less the reason that Betty was not firmly ensconced at Bruce's side, fuck you all anyway, thanks. Because, lets be clear, the woman had been trying. Ever since the Avengers had their very, very public battle with Loki, where it had been kinda hard to miss the big green guy laying down the law alongside the rest of them, Ms Ross had been very, very determinedly petitioning first the army, and then SHIELD, and then anyone she could get her hands on, to be allowed to see Bruce, to even know where Bruce was. JARVIS had dug up something on the order of six attempts, in the last few months, to get someone to talk to her, to let her through.
And every single time, even after SHIELD had loosened up about Bruce, maybe looked like they'd allow it, General fucking Ross had shoved forward a counter-petition that said if anyone dared put his daughter in range of an unstable biological weapon on loan to SHIELD against his wishes, he would raise the kind of stink that would get SHIELD fucking disbanded, don't think he wouldn't, Fury, fucking try it.
Which, naturally, Fury did, because Fury didn't take that shit from anybody, but the whole thing had devolved into a bureaucratic pissing match that had successfully gummed up official channels on the matter for the foreseeable future. Now, Tony was betting SHIELD would win out eventually, especially considering JARVIS had dug up what looked very like Coulson's signature on a few of those counter-counter petitions, and Tony wasn't betting on anyone going up against Coulson in a paperwork war, but still. It was going to take time. Time Ms Ross, judging by the increasingly angry and desperate tone of her petitions, wasn't going to have before she went and did something ... unwise. Like, you know, go on the run with a big green rage monster, or walk onto an active battlefield for Bruce's sake, or ...
For the record? Tony was liking this woman. A lot. And he hadn't even met her yet.
But, actually. About that.
See, Tony wasn't much for official channels on the best of days. He was more a 'better to beg forgiveness' kinda guy. Well, no. More a 'do it anyway and get off scot free' kinda guy, but the principle was the same. And he had a number of advantages SHIELD didn't.
Such as, that he was still more or less a civilian consultant. No joining any military outfits for him, thank you, he'd had that argument with Rhodey years ago, and if Rhodey couldn't wheedle him around to it, Fury sure as hell couldn't. So he didn't go through a chain of command (much, anyway), and his actions as a private citizen didn't reflect back on SHIELD itself (much, anyway). And if there was blame to be taken, he could happily be the one to take it.
Such as, that the Avengers were no longer living on a top-secret SHIELD base that you needed a pass to access, but at his house. Well. One of them. And it was mostly their house, these days. But. Point was. It was his private property, and he could have any goddamn guests he liked come 'round, couldn't he? If he wanted to invite a pretty woman to stop by, that wasn't any of the army's goddamn business, was it?
Such as, that he had a private jet, and an AI pal that could make his travel plans involving said jet and trips to, say, Virginia, more discreet than really should be possible, in these terrorism-friendly days.
But, most of all, most importantly, such as the fact that he was Tony fucking Stark, and he was a friend of Bruce's, and if he wanted something, he damn well went and got it. Pretty women willing, anyway.
Which was why he was standing here, on Ms Ross' front porch, with a neat little convertible parked in the drive behind him, leaning casually on the doorframe and knocking at the door like he had all the time in the world, and the army none the wiser. Mostly because, for the moment at least, they were none the wiser.
There were days it was good to be Tony Stark, you know that?
Though, when the door opened and he met the confused, then recognising, then fucking furious eyes of Dr Elizabeth Ross, he maybe gave some thought to reconsidering that statement. You know. Just a little.
"Mr Stark," Betty said, with a smile that was fixed, and polite, and for some reason reminded Tony of Natasha in a way that made his lizard brain start panicking slightly. "Why don't you come in?"
"Uh. Sure?" Come on, Tony. It couldn't be any worse than stepping into the lab when Bruce was having a bad day. It definitely couldn't be any worse than getting between Natasha and the alcohol on one of her bad days. (For the record? Don't do that. Don't ever do that. Fucking Coulson didn't do that).
"Tea? Coffee?" she said, once he was in the door, clicking it closed behind him in a way that definitely should not have sounded intimidating, no sir. Mind you, this was a woman who was apparently unfazed by the Hulk. And yeah, Tony knew, and she knew, that the Hulk was actually a big softie at heart, but still. Giant green rage monster. Unfazed.
"Ah, how about no?" he said, breezily, and not at all carefully, no ma'am. "Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about ..." The Hulk? The love of your life? Your (ex?) boyfriend? "... About Bruce?"
Her smile went rigid, for a second. Her smile went stiff, and something flashed in her eyes, a big tangled ball of things that Tony couldn't parse, not in time. But there was pain in there. And anger, fuck yes, he recognised that one. Hard to miss, that anger.
"Where is he?" she said, very quietly. Stepping right up to him, monstering him into the wall, right there in the hallway. Not even waiting to reach the living room, or anywhere they could sit down. Months, she'd been fighting, trying to get to Bruce. Tony figured maybe she'd lost whatever patience she'd once had. "Where. Is. Bruce?"
Tony blinked, a little. Not at the anger. He'd gotten that from her petitions. But at the quiet threat, there. At the fact that she was threatening him. Tony Stark. Who, aside from anything else, was one of the richest men on the planet, who could probably buy and sell her a hundred times over, and was on the first and best superhero team going besides. Betty Ross was doing her damnedest, to intimidate him.
Huh. What was it Bruce had said? The bravest thing he'd ever seen? Tony stifled a grin. Oh yeah. He could get to liking Dr Betty Ross. A lot.
"That's what I'm here to talk to you about," he said, looking at her seriously. Really, genuinely seriously. Because, he got it, this wasn't something she was ready to joke about. "I was wondering ..."
"No," she cut him off. Icily. He blinked. "No, I'm not going to back off. If that's what you were sent to ask. I'm not backing down, not until you tell me, or someone tells me ..." Her voice cracked, ice shattering briefly over pain, and then it firmed. Then she had it back. "Until someone tells me where Bruce is. And what you've done with him."
Tony blinked. Long and slow. "What we've done with him." She nodded, fiercely, her lip curling as she stepped forward again, hand coming up to press against his chest, pin him to the wall. Tony wasn't even sure she was conscious of doing it.
"You haven't dissected him, at least," she said, something raw under her voice. "Or hurt him much. He's been fighting for you. He wouldn't ... he wouldn't, if you had ..."
Tony's blood shot through with ice, something sick and crawling slamming through his gut. "That was ... That was a concern?" he managed. Much more hoarsely than he'd have liked. She looked at him, with something like pity, and a lot like pain.
"What do you think my father wanted him for?" she asked, quietly. "Though, maybe I can't blame you. I didn't believe it, either. Not until Bruce told me." She smiled, bright and jagged. "He's a weapon, isn't he, Mr Stark? You of all people should know what your government does with weapons that aren't any use anymore." The icy thing bloomed, jagged tendrils spiking through him, and her smile faltered. Fell. "Though, I guess he is being useful. Now."
"No," Tony snarled, instinctive, unconscious denial. His brain wasn't fully booting, yet, something cold and distant fogging his thoughts, but he knew that much. He knew that much. "He's not being useful. He's not being fucking useful." It wasn't like that. It was not like that. Fuck him. No. "He's my team. He's my friend. He fucking saved my life, and he is not ... Fuck. No."
No, no, no, and furthermore, no. And if Bruce thought it was like that, if SHIELD thought it was like that ... Fuck General Ross, and fuck Nick Fury. Tony could break them, if he had to. He could break them. Fucking see if he couldn't.
"... You mean that," Betty said, watching him. Right up close, watching the jagged thing in his eyes. And it wasn't a question, not quite. Tony counted that a small triumph, at least. "You mean that."
He nodded, tightly, straightening up, realising belatedly that he had slumped back against the wall for a second. Not saying anything, just working to shove ... all of that ... back down, lock it back inside him. Fuck. Where was his easy smile when he needed it?
Betty backed off, a little. Backed up a couple of steps, let him stand properly. Watching him, with a strange look in her eyes.
"Why did you come here?" she asked, suddenly, looking thoughtfully at him. "Not to tell me to back off. Why?"
He swallowed, straightened. Twitched his shirt back to rights, settled 'Tony Stark, playboy philanthropist' around him like a shield. Found his casual grin, forced it back up whether it wanted to go or not. She let him. He got the distinct impression she was letting him.
"I came to ask you if you'd like to accompany me on a little trip," he managed, when he'd gotten 'cavalier and charming' fixed back in place. "Go to New York. See the sights. Meet up with ... an old friend. Like that?"
She blinked, long and slow. Her face going a little stiff, like she was trying not to let the sudden hope show too badly. "To New York," she repeated, slowly. "Where ... Where he is?" Tony nodded, the grin a little more real, now. "I thought ... I've been denied clearance for ..."
"Yeah, see," Tony interrupted, raising one hand in a flourish. "That's the advantage of taking a trip with me. I don't use clearances. Not for my house."
She stared at him. "... Your house?"
He grinned, rich and deep. "Yup. My house. My private property. Who else do you think was rich enough to put up a bunch of superheroes that happens to include a Hulk, a god of thunder, and a supersoldier who has a slight tendancy to go through gym equipment like paper?" He let the smirk grow full-blown. "SHIELD were very happy to have me footing the bill, let me tell you."
She worked that through. She worked it through, and came up with the right, sneaky answer, just like he'd planned. "So," she said, slowly. "If you happened to have ... a friend around? Just for a visit?"
Tony grinned, nodded. "Don't need clearance for that, do you? Did I happen to mention I also have a private jet? At the nearest airfield? Right now?"
She looked at him, for a long, long moment. And then ... she smiled, and it was ... mischief, and defiance, and a hint of 'fuck you, world, I am getting what I want', and yeah, oh yeah, Tony could see why Bruce loved her. Tony could see why Bruce would strangle an abomination mostly to death to keep her safe. He could see why she was Bruce's Pepper.
"Are you kidnapping me, Mr Stark?" she asked, and it was playful, it was light and defiant and playful, and yeah, Tony was going to break the world for her, too. He totally was.
"I don't know," he said, flashing her that patented Stark grin, delighting in her raised eyebrow. "Would you like me to?"
She let it wait a beat, smiling that quiet smile, and then ... "Give me half an hour to pack," she said, Betty Ross, and grinned at him. "And we're flying first class, right?"
He laughed. "Never anything less, with Tony Stark airways!"
Pepper was going to kill him. Also Coulson, and Fury, and most of SHIELD. Possibly Cap. But fuck. There were days it was really, really good to be him.
Oh yeah.