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The room felt too big. Everything in Avengers Tower felt too big, too shiny, too expensive—like it was all part of a museum exhibit she wasn’t allowed to touch. She stared at the massive windows that overlooked New York City, the skyline so vast it didn’t even feel real.
At least the view was better than the conversation looming over her.
Tony Stark stood at the other end of the room, shuffling awkwardly. She could see he was trying to be nonchalant—hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the wall—but the stiffness in his shoulders gave him away. He’d been quiet for a few minutes now, like he was working up to saying something important.
Finally, he cleared his throat.
“So,” he started, drawing out the word, “you, uh… feeling okay? You want anything? Snacks? Water? I can probably get FRIDAY to—”
“I’m fine,” she interrupted softly, though her voice came out sharper than she intended. She regretted it immediately.
Tony didn’t seem fazed, though. If anything, he just looked more uncomfortable. “Okay, okay, cool. That’s cool.” He nodded, like he was trying to convince himself.
She fiddled with the hem of her oversized shirt. Tony’s shirt, technically—her own clothes had apparently been destroyed during whatever freak accident brought her here. The fabric smelled faintly of cologne and metal, a weirdly comforting combination.
“So, uh…” Tony scratched the back of his neck, his confidence visibly waning. “What’s the deal with you and, uh… electronics? Computers? Robots? I mean, you’re my kid, so I figured there’s gotta be some love for tech in there somewhere, right?”
She blinked at him, deadpan. “Nope.”
Tony froze mid-gesture, his hand still in the air like he was about to give a PowerPoint presentation. “Nope?” he echoed.
“Nope,” she repeated. “I don’t like computers or robots or… whatever it is you do.”
He stared at her like she’d just admitted to hating oxygen. “Wow. Okay. That’s… huh.” He scratched his head. “Not what I expected. I mean, you’re a Stark, so I just figured—”
“Maybe I’m not really a Stark,” she muttered under her breath, the bitterness slipping out before she could stop it.
Tony flinched, his expression flickering with something she couldn’t quite name—regret, maybe, or guilt. He sighed, stepping closer but keeping a careful distance. “Hey, look, I know this is… weird. For both of us. I’m not exactly the poster child for fatherhood. But I want to try, okay?”
She didn’t respond, staring out the window instead.
“So,” he said after a pause, shifting gears with forced cheerfulness. “If you’re not into tech, what are you into?”
She hesitated, her fingers tightening on the hem of the shirt. “Art,” she admitted quietly.
Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Art?”
“Yeah. Painting, sketching, acting… stuff like that.”
His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Huh. Okay. Art. That’s cool. That’s… unexpected, but cool.” He tilted his head, studying her like she was one of his blueprints. “So you wanna be an artist?”
“An actor, actually,” she said before she could stop herself.
Tony blinked. “An actor?”
“And a therapist.”
That threw him. “An actor and a therapist?”
She nodded, her voice gaining a little strength. “Yeah. I like psychology. And I like understanding people. But I also really want to act. I’ve always wanted to be in movies or on stage.”
Tony’s face twisted into something between amusement and bafflement. “So you want to get inside people’s heads and pretend to be other people for a living?”
“Pretty much.”
“Huh.” He rubbed his chin, clearly at a loss. “Well, that’s… definitely not what I expected.”
Her lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Hey, no, no, no disappointment here,” Tony said quickly, holding up his hands. “Just… processing. I mean, I’ve never been to an art gallery that didn’t put me to sleep, but if that’s your thing, cool. You’re allowed to be different.”
That last sentence surprised her. She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw a flicker of something genuine in his expression.
“You mean that?” she asked cautiously.
Tony met her gaze, his own eyes uncharacteristically serious. “Yeah. I mean that. You’re not me. You’re you. And that’s… good. Better, even.”
The room went quiet for a moment, the weight of his words settling over them.
“Okay,” she said finally, her voice small.
Tony smiled, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a way that didn’t seem forced this time. “Okay,” he echoed. “So, no robots or tech for you. Got it. Noted. We’ll figure something else out.”
She hesitated, then decided to add, “I also don’t eat meat.”
Tony froze, his expression turning into one of sheer disbelief. “Wait. What?”
“I’m vegetarian,” she said simply. “Always have been. My mom was Indian, and she didn’t eat meat either. I guess I got that from her.”
Tony opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, shaking his head like he was rebooting. “Indian?” he repeated.
She nodded. “Yeah. My mom was Indian. She didn’t eat any meat. Not chicken, not beef, nothing.”
“Wow,” Tony muttered, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. “Okay. Vegetarian. Indian. No meat. Got it. This is gonna take some adjustment.” He paused, then added with a faint smirk, “Good thing I’m a genius.”
Her lips twitched, but she didn’t smile. “You don’t have to change anything for me,” she said quietly.
“Are you kidding? You’re my kid,” Tony said with a shrug. “It’s my job to make sure you don’t starve.” He turned toward the wall, raising his voice slightly. “FRIDAY!”
“Yes, boss?” the AI’s voice chimed in.
“Find the best vegetarian Indian restaurant in New York. We’re ordering in.”
Her eyes widened. “You really don’t have to—”
“Too late,” Tony said with a smirk. “Welcome to the Stark family, kid. We do things big.”
For the first time since waking up in this strange new world, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
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