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"If I have to sit in this house for one more second, I'll die."
Sharon turns a scathing look to him. "You'll die, Tony," she asks, and Tony thinks it must be a cultural thing, that you have to have some kind of British blood in you to produce a tone that dry. The only other people he's ever heard top it are Jarvis and Aunt Peggy. "You'll literally die?"
"Oh, shut up," Tony snaps. "You just don't get it, and that's fair. You're only just in high school."
"You're a year older than me," she reminds him.
He retorts, "But I've already been in college for two years. So trust me on this."
Sharon snorts, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Remember the last time I trusted you," Sharon asks. Tony won't pretend he doesn't have a flashback to every parental figure of his life screaming at them, the backyard half on fire and his mother's party in utter ruin. "Actually," she says, "not even just the last time. Every time I've ever trusted you."
"I don't know what you're insinuating," Tony says, and Sharon rolls her eyes. "Well, fine," he says. "If you don't want to trust me, then you come up with an idea for something to do."
It's Spring Break, and Tony is offended about ten times over that his mother insisted he come home to see her. And it's not that he doesn't want to see his mother. He loves his mother, just like any good Jewish-Italian boy has been raised to, but Rhodey is in Myrtle Beach. Without him. Tony is missing out on copious amounts of liquor (and maybe some other substances that when Rhodey finds out about—because Tony knows Rhodey is too smart and observant for him to hide it forever—he'll kill Tony for) and girls in bikinis, all in favor of spending time in a house he doesn't like, like a freaking mama's boy—again, he does love his mother so much—and he is just so offended.
"Log onto a chat," Sharon suggest, inclining her head towards his computer. "We can see if anyone's on or if anything is going on."
"Like a high school party?" Tony scoffs, and Sharon throws a pillow at him.
"Please," she says. "As if you have anything better to do. And again, you're sixteen!"
They fight back and forth for a little bit until Tony finally logs her on and lets her go about scouting. It doesn't take too long to hit pay dirt. Sharon finds a classmate who has a friend who knows this guy whose cousin’s parents are out of town and they’re throwing a party. The classmate’s friend who knows this guy whose cousin’s parents are out of town says that there’s a pool and that the guy’s cousin’s parents don’t lock or pay much attention to the levels on the bottles in the liquor cabinet.
That’s a plus in this party’s favor, because Howard all but writes out the bottle’s remaining measurements in his notebook every night before he goes to bed. And no one can breathe in the direction of the wine cellar without Jarvis knowing.
But there’s still the glaringly obvious flaw: it’s a high school party.
“So what,” Sharon says, exasperated.
“I’m in college. Isn’t it kind of creepy when college dudes go back to hang at high school parties?”
“Yeah, when those college dudes can legally vote,” Sharon says. Then she yells right in his ear, “You are sixteen, numbnuts!”
Another point in the party’s favor is that it’s just a neighborhood over. They can hop a few fences and be there in no time.
The final and perhaps most difficult aspect of the plan: getting off of the property without alerting the excessive amount of adults in the house.
Tony spreads out a floorplan of the house and a layout of the property over his desk. There’s already a pencil behind his ear. He takes it and looks at his watch. “Ok,” he says, “if this is going to work, it’s going to require precision timing. We have physical and technological barriers all over the place.”
“Whatever alarm systems your dad has set up aren’t going to even matter if we get Aunt Peggy’s attention. She’s literally a professional sneak,” Sharon says.
“Jarvis and Ana both have hawk eyes and the ears of freakin’ bats,” Tony complains. He considers his watch again. “It’s 8:30, which means Ana is at least in their house watching her stories, but Jarvis is up until 9:00. We either hang back for another hour just to be safe or do everything in our human power to avoid the animal menagerie. If they get all worked up, Jarvis’ll hear them.”
“Well, hang on,” Sharon says. “What if we used them?”
“What do you mean?”
“As a distraction,” Sharon says. “Because let’s be real, Aunt Peggy is a spy. She’s a super spy. She’s been a super spy since the 40s. How are two fifteen—“
“Sixteen,” Tony stresses.
“—year olds supposed to get past her,” Sharon goes on like he didn’t say anything, and she’s got a really good point. “Although,” she says, backtracking, “letting out all the animals seems like something they would immediately blame us for, which means they’d come for us, and that would defeat the entire purpose.”
“No, wait,” Tony says, the plan forming in his mind. “The flamingo.”
Sharon’s brows arch. “I can’t believe your dad has a flamingo in the backyard.”
“Jarvis hates Bernard,” Tony says gleefully. “They have literally been in a blood feud since 1947. Jarvis wouldn’t put anything past him, and Aunt Peggy knows how much he hates him. If we let Bernard out where Aunt Peggy can see, she’ll get Jarvis, and they’ll both be distracted trying to recatch him. Or Jarvis will be recatching him. Aunt Peggy will be watching.”
“You think just the flamingo is enough to keep them both occupied,” Sharon asks.
“I’ve seen Aunt Peggy actually record him chasing after Bernard and laughing the whole time,” Tony says. “It’ll work.”
“I still think we should use more of them,” Sharon says. “Not all, but maybe just a couple more. What about the koala? We could put him up on the roof.”
The blood in Tony’s veins runs cold. He stares at Sharon, haunted. “No,” he says, unable to force his voice above a whisper. “No.”
Sharon looks a little alarmed. “Why? What’s wrong with the koala? It’s cute.”
“No, it isn’t,” Tony says.
“Ok,” Sharon says slowly. “That sounds like a story.” Tony just shakes his head, eyes still wide. He refuses to relive that. Better to just suppress it again. “Fine, so we let out the flamingo. That takes care of Mr. Jarvis and Aunt Peggy. What about your mom and dad?”
“Dad’s in the workshop,” Tony says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And he’s not a problem anyway. Mom could be anywhere, but as for sneaking past her, she’s probably the easiest.”
They map out their escape route over the property layout. This is doable. This is a solid plan. Sharon grabs one of his baseball hats to hide her too blond hair under, and they head out into the hall. There’s a dumbwaiter that takes them down to the kitchen pantry, but there is no easy exit from the kitchen, especially not when Sharon uses a mirror to check around the corner and sees that Maria is in there, sitting at the counter and drinking a cup of tea.
Sharon makes a motion at the dumbwaiter. Should they go back up it and find another way out? If Maria is in the kitchen, then maybe they’ll actually stand a chance going down the main staircase.
Tony shakes his head. His mom is accounted for, but Peggy and Jarvis aren’t. This is still the best route. They’ll have to army crawl, but if they stay low enough and work the angles, the island should keep Maria from seeing them.
It’s slow going and nerve wracking because Jarvis or Peggy could come in at any moment, but slow and steady wins the race, and they make it out into the hall. The house is old, but there are lots of rugs all over the wooden floors, and Jarvis has never stood for any creaking. This is both an advantage and a detriment. They are quiet, but so are any approaching footsteps.
Sharon catches sight of the shadow coming down the intersecting hall first. She points violently, and Tony grabs her arm and hauls her into the parlor. They duck down and hide behind the couch. Tony peeks through the legs. It’s Jarvis, doing his final sweep through the house. He steps into the parlor, and Tony doesn’t dare to move, even to draw back further out of view.
Then Jarvis just pulls the cord on the lamp and walks away. They sit in the darkness for just a moment before slowly standing—still hunched in a half crouch—and making their way over to the patio doors. The sound of the lock clicking back is thunderous in the otherwise complete silence. They both freeze, almost expecting Jarvis to come running back in, but there’s nothing. They slip outside into the night.
Tony knows exactly where all the security cameras are placed and their range, so he leads the way along the walls and through a few bushes to make it over to the animal menagerie. Most of the animals are asleep and pay the two kids in their midst no mind. Sharon looks over at the koala and then back at Tony. He pulls her away before she can dare to try anything.
As they approach Bernard’s little nest, he lifts his head up. “Hey, buddy,” Tony says lowly, and Bernard answers with a few soft chirps. He twists his neck to pluck at some feathers on his back. Tony moves slowly to pet him. Bernard is a bit testy. He only really likes Howard and treats everyone else with varying degrees of poorly contained tolerance. Tony is pretty sure the only reason Bernard is ok with him is because he just looks like a smaller Howard. “Hey, buddy, wanna go for a little nighttime walk? Wanna see your old pal Jarvis?”
Bernard literally fluffs up at the mention of Jarvis, and Sharon takes a step back. “Holy shit,” she whispers.
“I told you,” Tony says. “Blood feud.” It takes some gentle coaxing to get Bernard up and going without stirring up all the other animals, but eventually they get him outside. Once there, he just sort of trots along after them back towards the house.
Peggy is right where they expect her to be, still sitting up in the study as she pores over documents. Tony motions for Sharon to stay back in the bushes. He ushers Bernard into the middle of the yard and hands him a treat. It’s enough to keep the flamingo from immediately following him as Tony dashes back to the bushes and dives into them. The commotion startles Bernard into letting out a loud honk.
Through the window, they see Peggy’s head jerk up, and she stands up as soon as she has eyes on the bird free from his cage. She opens the patio door and says to herself, “How on earth did you get out?” Then she calls into the house, “Mr. Jarvis, I’m afraid Bernard has gotten loose.”
A man of Jarvis’s age really shouldn’t be able to move that fast, but a few seconds later, he comes barreling out of the house. Bernard all but screeches, flapping his wings and taking off at a sprint. “Get back here, you pink devil,” Jarvis hollers, running in circles to try and catch the bird.
Peggy offers some mockingly unhelpful suggestions for Jarvis to feign right or dive left. From over at the Jarvises’ house, a window opens, and Ana leans out. “What is going on out here?”
“Flamingo got loose, dear, nothing to worry about,” Peggy calls to her.
“Oh, Edwin, not so fast, my love,” Ana says. “You’ll strain yourself.”
“I’ll strain him,” Jarvis snarls, just missing grabbing Bernard around the neck.
Tony and Sharon hurry to slap their hands over each other’s mouths to muffle the sounds of their laughter, because Peggy has stepped off the porch and is heading in their direction to check on the other animals. They sink as low as they can into the dirt. It really can’t be more than a couple of seconds or so, and she does definitely slow down, but if feels like Peggy loiters by their hiding spot for a small eternity, eyes alert and suspicious.
Finally, finally, she continues on, confirming that all the other animals are still in their proper places before she goes to talk to Ana. From around the house, they heard a loud splash. Neither Ana nor Peggy really react, so that means it was Bernard who jumped in.
“Come on,” Tony whispers, pulling Sharon’s hand away from his mouth. This is their chance. As soon as they clear the bushes, they run around the other side of the house, making a beeline for the gate. All they have to do is make it down the driveway, and that’s the surest shot of this entire escape plan.
The last obstacle is just checking to make completely sure there isn’t anyone around the garage. Tony pokes his head around the corner, very confident, and then just goes boneless, grabbing Sharon and taking her down with him, hand over her mouth to keep her from yelling at him. From his position sprawled on the ground, he points, and Sharon looks up to see Howard slowly walking out from the back of the garage. Sharon turns a murderous glare to him, and Tony shakes his head, finger to his lips.
Luck is still on their side. Howard’s attention is focused completely on one of his notebooks, so much so that he isn’t really looking at where he’s going. He hits both the car’s side mirror and a cart of tools and still gives neither object any more mind than just to nudge the cart fully out of his way with his hip. He scratches a few notes, eyes narrowed and gnawing on his bottom lip. He isn’t paying any attention. He won’t notice them even though they are lying on the ground in plain view. This is probably the only time when Howard’s uncanny inability to really notice when his son is around is finally a good thing.
So of fucking course, as Howard comes out of the garage—nose still buried in the notebook—he actually, literally trips over them. His foot hits the brim of Sharon’s hat, and as he stumbles, he steps on Tony’s arm. Neither of them manages to stop from making noise.
Howard catches himself and looks back over his shoulder. He stares at the kids lying on the ground, both still keeping very still in the vain hope that maybe his vision will be based on movement and they can still get away with this.
“What the hell,” Howard asks, and now that his attention has been pulled away from the notebook, he can also acknowledge the sounds of battle coming from the pool. “What the hell,” he asks again, this time more incredulously. “Up. Get up. What are you doing out here?”
“I was just going to show Sharon the old Royce,” Tony says. It sounds way too much like a question.
Howard frowns, and Tony can swear his mustache actually bristles. “Liars,” Howard calls him out. He hauls them up to their feet and marches them back into the house. Peggy is right there waiting for them in the foyer.
“And here are the little jailbreak master minds,” she says.
“You said we’d get away with it!” Sharon rounds on Tony, immediately destroying any chance they have for Tony’s favorite game of Deny, Deny, Deny.
“We would have,” Tony argues, “if Dad wasn’t such a freakin’ klutz.”
“Watch your mouth, son,” Howard says dryly.
“I would suggest, in the future, learning how to clear your chat history,” Peggy suggests.
Sharon and Tony gape up at her. “When did you even have time to check it,” Sharon cries. Peggy just arches a brow at her. Sharon suddenly has stars in her eyes. “I wanna be just like you when I grow up.”
“What, and dash your kids’ dreams of ever getting to make it out to a party,” Tony grumbles.
“Shut up,” Sharon snaps. “At least you aren’t bored anymore.”
Peggy coughs pointedly to regain their attention. “Flattery isn’t going to save either of you for maintaining the menagerie for the rest of the week,” she says.
“No, not again,” Tony cries desperately.
Peggy continues, “And you will also offer a very heartfelt and sincere apology to Mr. Jarvis in the morning. We are far too old and it is far too late for anyone to be dealing with a wild flamingo on the loose. You’re lucky the neighbors are used to that old feud and didn’t call the police about the noise.”
“Those apologies are going to be run by your mother first,” Howard adds. “You know she has zero tolerance for bullshit, so make her believe it. Now, get up to your rooms. Separate rooms. If you try to bust out again, your mother and I will be the ones to drive you back to school. And I will meet your friends, and I will tell them about how when you were five you refused to wear any underwear except Captain America ones and you also insisted on showing them to everyone you met.”
“Why do you hate me, Dad,” Tony wails as Sharon laughs.
“Don’t think you’ll get off scot free, young lady,” Peggy says. “If we’re going with the Captain America theme, I know where you keep your old diaries.”
“You wouldn’t,” Sharon cries.
“I’ll give them to Tony and let him decide what to do,” Peggy threatens.
“No, he’s the worst,” Sharon protests.
“Ok, that’s just rude,” Tony says.