Tony Stark was not amused.
It was rare that people truly did amuse him, so today was no exception. The only things that entertained his great mind were himself and Miss Pepper Potts. Tony Stark was a man of genius--a man who deserved to be surrounded by the best and only the best. He was a shark amongst goldfish; a wolf amongst sheep. Finding himself encircled by dimwits and bigheads who did not deserve whatever standing they had managed to slimily climb to was not big on his very busy agenda.
So why was it that today he was currently stuck in one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s many offices, awaiting for Fury to bring out someone who apparently had taken agent Phil Coulson’s place among their many-numbered staff, when the man of iron had much better things to do? Such as taking Miss Potts out to dinner in France, or perhaps working on his suit? It was due for a tune up, at any rate.
Alas, Tony Stark’s life was a cruel one. He was the most talented of all the Avengers--brains, brawns, and a robotic suit to go with it--yet he was the last to be introduced to this newcomer. This fact actually irritated Tony more than he cared to let on. Steve, Thor, Bruce, Natasha, and Clint had all gotten the chance to meet with the replacement earlier in the week. Being the last out of the Avengers to have this “opportunity” was an insult to Tony’s standing.
Just how special was this new agent? He was only replacing Coulson. He was probably just some kid off of the streets who managed to get entangled with Fury’s ego, thus resulting in assisting the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
“Hope the kid doesn’t have an obsession with the Captain like the last agent did,” Tony remarked to himself in mutter, arms crossed over his chest to hide the glow of his arc reactor imbedded within his chest. The plastic seat Fury had shoved him into was definitely not doing his ass a favor, and if the wannabe James Bond didn’t show up with whomever Tony was supposed to meet with, he was going to waltz out for a much more productive day.
It was too damn quiet in the whitewashed room he was currently stuck in. Too quiet, too colorless, and too reminiscent of a police questioning room. Not that he had ever had the convenience of experiencing such a delightful occurrence before. Genius billionaires were not exactly the type to be found under martial law--especially when they also went by the title of “Iron Man” and just so happened to be a hero.
“If you make me wait any longer, Fury, I’m going to make you buy me an entire shawarma restaurant for compensation,” the philanthropistic Iron Man grumbled, wishing there was a mirror somewhere in this godforsaken room so he could check up on his natural attractiveness. His goatee and other assortment of well-groomed black hair needed to be combed, most likely. He was most definitely reducing his stress after this utterly pointless get together with Pepper tonight--the question was, France or Italy?
Tony let his dark brown eyes slide shut with boredom, tapping his foot on the linoleum floor impatiently. At times, he truly resented being part of the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D.; the bastards thought they could just pull him out of his lab or bed at any given moment, like he was their own personal guard dog.
He was a very important man with a very busy schedule, and the pompous assholes of S.H.I.E.L.D. had no right to cut into his freetime.
“Nap time’s over, Stark.”
The gruff, annoying tone of none other than S.H.I.E.L.D.’s commander in chief, Nick Fury, aroused Tony from a very amusing daydream of hiding a multitude of Poptarts from the Asgardian prince, Thor (which had caused him to fly into a fit and destroy many a thing with that magic hammer of his). Lazily allowing his eyes to slide open, Stark glanced upwards at the “imposing” form of Fury, his expression one of great exasperation.
“It’s never a good idea to interrupt someone’s beauty sleep,” the billionaire remarked casually. “You should know that first hand, chief. After all, just look at you!”
Fury merely ignored the jibe and yanked Tony from the chair, turning him around and pointing to the door. “You are going to refrain from being your usual infuriating, asinine self, and welcome Agent (last name). Coulson would be proud to have a replacement as intelligent as (last name). So that thing you do when you talk? Don’t do it.”
With that, the large man was gone, and in his wake a figure cautiously walked into the room to join Tony.
It was one of the few moments where Tony Stark was utterly speechless.
The replacement for Coulson was not some dumb guy.
She was a girl.
A girl wearing a black, tacky business suit that did not fit her in the least--but then again, it was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s policy to rip off of the Men in Black style. She had scrutinizing (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair pulled up in a bun, and her expression was one that clearly stated, “I don’t take crap” Overall, her appearance was very...clean-cut.
It was a shame that Tony found her countenance quite charming, despite the aggravated look on her face--he was, after all, a taken man. Yet, the genius mused that perhaps he could have a bit of fun with this woman, as a form of payment for causing him to miss whatever free time he could have had.
“Well, hello there.” Tony’s lips curved into a smirk, and he gave her another look down. “I wasn’t aware S.H.I.E.L.D. employed females of a certain physical attribute.”
Apparently, either the complement went right over her head, or he was getting rusty with his womanizing ways.
In a very business-like tone, she said, “S.H.I.E.L.D. employs anyone who meets their standards. I just happened to be one of them. You are Mr. Tony Stark, correct? I am Agent (first name) (last name). I have been required to meet with each member of the Avengers Initiative in order to get to know them. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
(Name) held out her hand, and Tony had no choice but to grasp it with his own and give it a friendly shake. Once she let go, he inched ever so closer, and added in a suave tone, “You must be at the top of the list, then, to have replaced the beloved Phil Coulson. It was such a shame the way he went, you know...I’m very pleased to see that he has someone who is just as competent as he was standing in his place. Especially someone as attractive as you, Miss (name).” With a widening smirk, he let his eyes lock onto her lips, which looked in dire need of some exercise.
The woman merely stared at Stark as if he was speaking in tongues. Or a complete and utter fool.
To add insult to injury, (name) merely continued to speak as if the sexually attractive philanthropist had not even uttered a word concerning her own looks.
“I knew Phil Coulson personally, and it makes me gratified to know he worked with such heroic individuals such as yourself. I’m sure he would have been quite proud of you all when you defeated Loki. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Stark. That is all, and I apologize for being a bother.”
With that, (name) spun around and began to briskly walk towards the door as if she did not want to have a single thing to do with Tony Stark.
Said man who just so happened to own a very successful corporation in addition to a robotic suit that allowed him to be the “hero” she seemed to regard him as hurriedly jogged behind her, not quite yet ready to end the conversation. Tony considered it a failure whenever at least one of his lines did not make any effect on a woman, and he was not a man who was to be associated with failures.
“Bother? You? Never! That amoeba Fury’s the bother. I’d be perfectly content with talking to you for an entire day. At least you’re actually interesting, whereas he just wants to boast about his little organization and how it saves the world.”
(Name) halted in her tracks and slowly turned around, (e/c) eyes coldly meeting his dark brown ones. “Forgive me if I seem out of line, Mr. Stark,” she began in a deadpan tone, “but you’re the one who is always arrogant and boastful, if I’m not mistaken. I’ve watched your television interviews. I’ve even attended a couple of your charity dinners. If there’s one man in the world whose image can be found directly underneath the definition for ‘egotistical’ in the dictionary, it’s you, Mr. Stark.”
This woman was certainly a tough nut to crack.
Refusing to let his grin fade away, Stark forced out a laugh. “Ah, so you’re an admirer of my successes then? I’m flattered, Miss (name). Perhaps you’d be interested in an autograph--”
“Please call me Agent (last name),” (Name) cut him off briskly, giving him an irritated glare. “And I am not here for autographs by the Avengers. I am here to follow orders and help protect the earth from whatever threat it will face. I suggest you do the same, Iron Man, and cease with the hapless attempts at flirtation. I happen to know you and a Miss Pepper Potts are already...dating, are you not?”
This failure was certainly all-too-new to Tony Stark--the failure of not being able to seduce or charm a woman with his impeccably suave ways. Admittedly, Pepper would sometimes be very annoyed whenever he tried it on her more than once, but still...being a playboy was something Tony took pride in. Just a little bit. After all, “Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist” was one of his most glorious titles. Aside from “Iron Man,” of course.
As (name) continued to walk away, Tony heaved miffed sigh and hastily followed her yet again. This was not done--not yet. He would emerge the victor from this battle of the sexes if it killed him.
“Okay, yes, you got me there. Miss Potts and I certainly do have a...relationship. But that doesn’t mean I can indulge myself every once and awhile with a conversation from another woman, right?” Tony gave (name) a sly smile.
(Name) continued to walk down the halls in silence, until there was a turn. At last, she swiveled her head around, her own face dancing with the slightest hint of mischief.
“I suppose you’re correct, Mr. Stark, but there’s something I’d like to let you know...”
She pointed to her neck, where a silver chain was resting, and tugged it up into the light. Attached to the bottom was...a small, circular object, with the colors of red, white and blue painted on and a white star in the middle.
It was a symbol Tony knew all-too-well, and he mentally shot himself with one of his laser guns.
“I just so happen to be a fan of Captain Steve Rogers myself. After all, I prefer a hero who has a sense of humility and manners...not to disappoint you, of course. Have a wonderful day, Mr. Stark, and please...”
(Name) gave him a smirk of her own, a witty and cunning curve of her lips as she rounded the corner of the hall, her voice echoing away.
“Work on those pick up lines of yours, will you?”
He just stood there in silence for a couple of minutes, before slowly making his way towards the exit with a stormy expression brewing on his face.
Tony Stark was not amused.
He would have to color his gold-and-red suit in shades of red, white, and blue for a month or so if he wanted to compete with the old man, Captain America. (Name) had managed to thwart his oh-so-carefully crafted flirting. And, to make matters worse, he was now craving shawarma and had no one to make buy it for him.
He was definitely not amused.