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It’s weird – or maybe it isn’t, because nothing is weird anymore, except for when Erin gets anchovies on her slice from the pizza counter down the block – but the whole time, no one thinks to call the Avengers. No one says, “Hey, maybe we should tell the Avengers that a lot of ghosts are about to vomit their way into our world and we just might need some help.”
No one thinks about it at all. In retrospect, Abby thinks it’s strange.
She makes a comment in passing, just once. Casually says, “You think the Avengers would have helped?”
Erin looks up The Books – now that they’re actually a business, they need to be run like one. God bless the business minor.
“Maybe. We didn’t need them, though,” she says, and goes back to adding and subtracting and whatever it is you do with things like Books when you start making money.
Holtz says, “Fuck the Avengers,” and goes quiet.
Patty doesn’t say anything. Which isn’t really Patty.
Abby lets it go.
“Kevin. Kevin, honey. You need to slow down.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
“You’re right,” Abby says. “I don’t. Just…tell me who’s on the phone.”
“He’s not on the phone, he’s here, he didn’t even call. I mean, I think he did call, but he's here, and I’m wearing a stupid looking tie—”
All of Kevin’s ties are sort of stupid, he’s terrible at knotting them, terrible at wearing them, terrible at things in general. Ties being the least of Abby’s problems. She peers around Kevin’s broad shoulders, and feels her entire body go rigid.
“Oh my God.”
“Okay, that’s weird,” Kevin mutters. “He has money, but he’s not—”
“Kevin. Go clean your desk.”
Kevin huffs and goes back to shove everything into his bottom drawer, including his telephone. Abby pulls on her blouse.
“Um, hello.”
Tony Stark is…shorter, than she thought he’d be. He’s so much shorter than he thought she’d be that she assumes he probably gets that a lot, and figures she probably shouldn’t bring it up. He’s taller than her, though, but everyone is. Everyone, it’s a thing, she’s figured it out.
Stark pulls off his sunglasses, gestures toward the ceiling and says, “You’re not seriously running a lab out of this building, are you?”
“…Yes. We are.”
He snorts derisively. “I could probably bag and sell the number of violations happening here.”
“…Because you’re so concerned with…rules and regulations?” Stark shrugs. “We have a permit, and everything is paid for and authorized by the city of New York.”
“I did hear you cut a sweet deal with the mayor. You’re noisy. You guys make a lot of noise.”
“Ghosts aren’t subtle.”
“No,” he says. “Just usually invisible to everyone else.”
Okay. Now she’s getting annoyed. It’s probably bad form to get pissed off at the guy who keeps a group of superheroes in a tower that used to have his name all over it, and definitely not a good idea to piss off the guy who considers the Hulk a close personal friend, but—
“Abby! Get over here, we’re going to see if the ecto repellent works on the suits!”
“No,” Erin says, loudly, and tearing off her now-shiny, now-lime green sweater. “We’re not. We’re—” She freezes, halfway out of a sweater that is roughly the color of a mandarin orange, putting her I Break For Vapors shirt on full display in front of Tony Stark. She half grabs, half twists Abby’s arm and hisses, “What is happening right now?”
Stark grins. “Didn’t introduct myself.”
“Not necessary,” Erin almost shrieks, and rips her sweater off, tossing it to the side. “Holtz!”
“M’lady.”
“Holtz, stop everything you’re doing.”
Jillian scowls, glancing between them. Abby watches her entire face transform, from complete confusion, to utter awe and admiration. She lets go of what is probably expensive, and explosive, leaving Abby to catch it with her bare hands, and grabs Tony’s hand.
“Mr. Stark.”
“Jillian. You were in my internship program, what, six years ago?”
“Um.”
Erin rounds on her. “You didn’t tell me you were a Maria Stark Intern.”
“It’s not important.”
Stark shrugs. “Your opinion. Objective fact, though, if you read into it.”
Behind them, Patty makes a noise.
“Are you serious? I thought we were all in agreement. We don’t need the Avengers.”
“Not Avengers,” Stark says. “Just one. Singular Avenger. Steve didn’t want to come. Well, Steve couldn’t be here, actually. He’s working through something, I don’t know what it was. Point being, you can’t punch a ghost in the face, so Steve’s not really sure how we can help.”
“You can punch a ghost,” Abby says dryly. “Just not with your bare hands.”
Stark grins. “Sounds like something that warrants a demonstration.”
In the alley behind the station, cleaner and less wanton-y than their last, Abby puts on the glove and gives it a swing.
Behind her, Stark whistles. “That’s impressive. Nice work.”
“It’s the second model,” Holtz says proudly. “Thirty percent more damage, eleven percent less kickback.”
“Feels like no percent less kickback,” Patty mutters. Abby notes she’s still a little salty about having Tony Stark in their alley, like he might get something on it, or take it from them. With a jolt, Abby realizes there may be an actual reason the Avengers sent him. Like having a scientist tell you your work is SHIELD property makes it better, even when that scientist is Tony Stark.
“I’m not here to take your toys,” Tony says, and Abby jumps.
“Jeez, don’t read my thoughts, that’s super rude!”
“I can’t read thoughts, that’s a different friend of mine.” He folds his arms over his chest. “But I know what you’re thinking, and I want you to stop. No one’s here to take your stuff, or your ‘lab.’”
Patty snorts. “Nah, you’re just around to trash the city and pretend you’re doing everyone a solid by dropping a few buildings on them. I guess being Iron Man means being liability-free.”
Erin, who has been anxiously tugging on her hair for the last twenty minutes, elbows Patty. “Hush!”
Tony raises a hand. “No, she’s got a point. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. We all have.” He closes some of the space between them. “Who did you lose?”
Patty visibly flinches, and Abby really thinks for a second that Tony Stark is going to get slapped. Her cheeks sting sympathetically.
But, instead –
“My cousin. She got stuck downtown. Building came down on top of her.”
“Could have been the aliens,” Stark says bluntly.
“Could have been. Could have been aliens, or you. Hell, it could’ve been a damn ghost.”
“We’ll never know.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s dead. You’re alive. I gotta have someone to be cranky at, don’t I?”
“You deserve it,” Stark admits. “I won’t tell you the good outweighs the bad, no one wants to hear that. I’ll just tell you that I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make it better, but I am sorry.” He glances at his watch, which probably does a hundred other things before it tells the time. “That’s my fourth apology this week, apparently. You’re making me work for this empathy thing.”
Patty huffs, but she’s visibly softer, a little loser around the edges, less sharpness in her stance. “Yeah, wouldn’t wanna wear down on that Starkian sensibility.”
“Spoken like a true New Yorker.” He turns to them, arms spread. “Ladies. I appreciate the demonstration, and your time. Miss Holtzman, I’m glad to put a face to the name. Dr. Gilbert, Dr. Yates.” He smiles. “Patty.”
“Did you just…come by to say hi?” Abby asks.
“I did. Fun stuff, good times, all of the above. Steve was concerned you didn’t call frankly. Like I said. Ghosts, not punchable. I mean, they clearly are, but Steve’s got a lot on his plate. He wants you to come by the tower, at some point.”
Erin makes a noise, and it’s embarrassing, but Abby still reaches out and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.
“When we have time.”
“Your people can call my people. By the way, that guy is your ‘people,’ right?”
“…Yeah.”
“Okay. Just checking. I’ve got a great in on an assistant, or five. They didn’t make the cut, but they could give you ladies a boost.”
Holtz leans against the wall. “Kevin’s gotten better,” she insists.
“Mmhm.” Patty nods. “He only dropped two calls this morning.”
“Both mine,” Stark says. “Amazing. We’ll be in touch, ladies. Keep up the good work.”
After, Abby leans over the table and tugs on Holtzman’s shirt. “That was pretty cool today, yeah?”
“It was alright.” She sniffs.
“Hey. He isn’t taking our stuff. Everything’s right where we left it.”
“Not today,” she mutters, fiddling with her screwdriver. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow Captain America comes in, tells us we’re a national security threat or whatever. Maybe tomorrow the mayor says no thanks. Maybe tomorrow we all die. I mean, who even knows.”
Abby shrugs. “Who even does?”
Holtz visibly brightens. “Hey, Erin, did you have to change your pants after Stark took off?”
“I’m not talking to you about this. They were green, and that was your fault.”
“Erin ecto’d herself.”
“I’m. Not. Talking to you. About this,” she adds quickly.
Patty sighs, pushing off her chair and grabbing her purse. “I’m gonna go pick up dinner so I don’t have to hear you two squawkin’ all night. Just kiss and make up already.”
Holtzman grins. “I’m game.”
“I’ll go with you!” Erin says, and bolts after Patty.
Abby gives her a smile, and Holtz finger guns toward the door now swinging shut.
“Next time, baby. Next time.”