Work Text:
“You have an assistant now?” Rhodey asked. You were sitting in an unusual place, at least unusual for where you thought Tony Stark and his friends would eat at. It was a restaurant that was more likely to serve families than billionaires, with mostly booths and wooden tables to sit at. You, Tony, and Rhodey sat at a high table closer to the bar, which sat against a wall separating you from the patrons with children. Your feet dangled a bit, just barely able to reach the bar on the bottom of the chair.
“Did I not mention that?” Tony asked. He glanced down at the menu in front of him, playing off your hiring as a totally normal thing. You picked up your own menu and decided to browse, your mouth watering at the idea of getting a meal you hadn’t cooked yourself.
Rhodey smiled and laughed. “And how did this happen?” he asked, pointing between you and your boss.
“They cried and hit me with a spatula and I gave them a job.” Tony set the menu down.
Rhodey raised his eyebrows.
“I didn’t cry,” you quickly denied.
“But you hit him with a spatula,” Rhodey confirmed.
“He was in the suit, he’s fine.” You went back to looking at your menu.
“Oh, well, as long as Tony’s fine.” Rhodey never picked up his menu to browse, making you wonder if he and Tony came here a lot. You glanced around the area, taking in the attitude of each server and knowing exactly what they were feeling. Some of them looked perky and happy to do their jobs, while others were just doing what they had to. You almost felt guilty for being the one being served but you shook that feeling away.
When your server came, a young man with patchy stubble on his chin, he didn’t take any time to gape at Tony Stark as you had. Then again, Tony was dressed in a pair of black jeans and an AC/DC shirt rather than the Iron Man suit.
Once your orders were taken you were sure to put emphasis on your pleases and thank yous. The guy didn’t seem to notice and walked off to get your drinks and you were left to make more small talk.
You didn’t know how to start talking to James Rhodes. He was nice, but he was also in the military and the pilot of War Machine--it was intimidating to say the least. But as he sat across from you asking you questions about your life, much like Bruce had in the tower, you felt more at ease. Why did nobody show this side of the Avengers? Why show them blowing things up, show them running around falling buildings rather than the kind people the apparently were? You felt bad for judging them based on what the media told you.
“Tony thinks I need new clothes,” you told Rhodey after your food arrived. You took a drink of water. “I think I dress fine.”
“What’s wrong with how they dress?” Rhodey asked his friend. He gestured to Tony. “Look at what you’re wearing, you’re telling them to dress better?”
Tony frowned at him. “I’m just thinking a few pieces to spruce up the old wardrobe, some basics. Some things without--” he pulled at the collar of your tee-shirt to display a small tear, “holes.”
When he let go of the collar you pulled at it yourself, wondering when that had gotten there. “I have clothes without holes...probably.” You couldn’t guarantee anything without some kind of stain on it though.
“Hey, if Tony Stark is offering to buy you new stuff there’s no point in arguing,” Rhodey told you.
“Really? It’s a bad thing to give my employees proper attire now?”
Rhodey smiled and opened his mouth when he snapped it shut. He looked to you and asked, “So what did your boss think when you told them you were quitting to work with this guy?” He thrust a thumb in Tony’s direction.
You went to answer when you realized you couldn’t. You let your mouth fall open a moment, fry in hand. “Oh, right.”
Rhodey’s eyebrows raised and he laughed again. “You didn’t tell them you were going to work at Stark Tower? Sorry, Avengers Tower.”
“I didn’t tell them I quit, actually,” you admitted with a small blush. “That happens all the time though, it’s not really a big deal when people don’t show up for shifts.” While that was the truth a rock sat in your stomach at the thought of your coworkers having no idea what happened to you. You’d worked at both places for years, and while you hadn’t made friends that knew all your secrets you were still close. And you’d abandoned them as if they were nothing. “Know what? I’m just gonna go make a couple calls.”
You stepped outside and pulled out your phone, dialling the diner. When it picked up you apologized immediately for not coming in for your shift last night, but your boss, ex-boss, didn’t care for your excuses. Maybe because you offered none. You didn’t want to say what you were doing now, and you didn’t have to tell him. You’d worked for the man for nearly five years and only gotten a measly 25 cents more than when you’d started. So...you hung up on him as he started to raise his voice.
After taking a few deep breaths you were ready to call your next boss. She was nicer, at least, though you knew she wouldn’t be happy with your sudden leave. Still, you dialled and waited for an answer.
You got the machine. Fumbling through a message about having her call you back, and another apology with a promise of a really good explanation, you wished you’d written something down. When you finished you were still a little upset from your first call and waited to calm down more before going back in. You watched people travel in and out of the restaurant, each one more normal than the next. You felt very light and heavy at once, like nothing around you was actually there.
Only when Tony planted a hand on your shoulder did you snap back to reality. “Your food’s getting cold.”
You shifted your weight to your other foot. “Right, sorry.”
“I’m starting to see why you didn’t get many tips as a server,” he told you, giving you false attitude. You’d noticed he did that a lot; he would say something snarky but put not feeling into it.
You rolled your eyes. “I wonder how many people spit in your food on a daily basis; how often do you get sick? Like, there must be a correlation there.”
You didn’t know what to expect when you went out shopping with Tony Stark, but for some reason you’d thought he was going to stay with you to pick out a few of those key pieces he felt were so important. But no, he just handed you a black credit card, with your name in shiny silver letters stamped across it, and told you to get whatever you wanted. When you jokingly asked about getting a pair of ripped jeans he said, “Pretend you’re working for a billionaire--oh wait…”
You nodded, getting the message. Rhodey had given you the tip of dressing as Tony did--business when required, casual when in the lab. He also showed you how to use the calendar on your phone, which connected to Tony’s showing any upcoming meetings and events...and there were none.
Tony didn’t do meetings, at least not planned ones. That was Pepper’s job. And the only events that were in the calendar were marked as a “maybe”, giving you no indication if Tony was actually going.
Still, as you wandered the boutiques of NYC, looking at rows and rows of items that looked not only expensive but impossible to wear you began to feel downtrodden. It didn’t feel right buying a 500 dollar shirt to wear, knowing you would probably get coffee on it at some point. How did people pay these prices for clothes? Things that could easily tear or stain, and go out of fashion in a season? Oh right, because they had way too much money.
Looking down at the little black card in your tattered wallet, you decided that the high end boutiques weren’t for you. You hailed a taxi and headed to the nearest Target, and managed to find a few simple pieces. Black or grey pants, a couple of jackets as well as some shirts with no holes. Adding a few accessories, the bill totalled $250, and even that felt like a lot.
You hesitated as you paid, holding the black card over the machine. The middle aged woman standing behind the cash looked at the card, her lips turning down as she looked back up at you. You quickly swiped it and punched in the pin Tony had given you and gave her a nervous smile. Her lips pulled back but you wouldn’t call whatever that expression was a smile. Did she know where the card was from? Did she think it wasn’t yours because you were using it at a Target?
No matter what she thought, she passed you your new items and you hurried out. When you got another taxi you were about to tell him to go to Avengers Tower when you rethought that. So instead you gave him the Starbucks down the street from the tower.
When you were dropped off you walked inside as the cabbie got stuck in traffic--you had to keep your cover. It was stupid and made no sense, but you did. And after juggling your bags to grab your latte as well as all their cake pops, you used your own money to pay for these items. It felt like a relief when the barista looked at you like she did everyone else; a fake smile and a quick “have a good day!” was all she had to do. The barista that passed you your drink didn’t even look you in the eye after calling out your name.
Their apathy was sweet and made you feel like you didn’t have an unlimited work credit card in your pocket. But as you started your way back to the tower, it’s shadow looming over you, reality came back.
You passed by a young man on the street calling out to people, offering to sell them footage of the incident.
“We got the guy with the hammer, the guy with the shield and New York’s very own Iron Man taking down aliens!” he shouted. “Hey, my friend, can I offer you a special deal? Get all the Avengers on one disc?” He was looking straight at you and you quickly shook your head and kept walking. A habit you had to have living in this city.
So many people were making money off that single event. Some were using it to sell more weapons to the public, more guns out on the street, while others were using it to push people to their religion. Doomsayers walked the streets and prowled the forums, some hailing the Avengers as gods, others condemning them as monsters.
Just humans doing what they do, you thought. Scurrying around trying to make sense of what they can’t understand. You probably would have been with them, if you hadn’t had bills to worry about.
But now you didn’t have to worry about your bills, or when you would afford a good meal, or anything like that. So, as you stopped on the front steps of the tower, you wondered…
What did you have to worry about now?