Inheritance of ash

don't.

"Yeah, but she's usually back down by now," Peter said. "She's not exactly shy when there's garlic bread involved."

"Maybe she fell asleep," Steve offered.

Tony didn't look convinced. He reached for his phone, checking the time. "Maybe."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You worried?"

Tony shrugged one shoulder, already rising from his seat. "I'm not worried. I'm monitoring. Totally different thing."

Kate smirked. "Sure, Iron Dad."

Peter leaned forward as Tony disappeared down the hall. "Think she's okay?"

Bruce offered a small smile. "He'll know the second she's not."

Across the room, Clint took another bite of his food. "Five bucks says she stole some garlic bread earlier and is hiding with it somewhere."

Peter blinked. "That... actually sounds like something she'd do."

⸻

The hallway was still. Quiet. Too quiet for a tower full of superheroes.

Tony stood outside Vicky's door, frowning at the silence. He knocked - light at first. "Skyfall? You in there, or did you decide to fight the moon with your bare hands or something?"

No answer.

He waited. Knocked again. "You're late. And if you're ghosting me, I swear to God I'm installing JARVIS in your toothbrush."

Still nothing.

Tony exhaled through his nose, muttered, "Great," and keyed in the override code. The door slid open with a gentle hiss, and immediately, he could feel it. That strange tension in the air. Not quite danger - but definitely not nothing.

The lights were low, shadows pooling across the floor. The bracelet sat untouched on the nightstand, casting a faint green glow. Her laptop played some old black-and-white movie - actors arguing dramatically about war and love and whatever else people argued about in the '50s.

Then he saw her - sitting on the floor beside the bed, back to the wall, arms crossed tightly, legs pulled up. She wasn't crying. But her jaw was set, her brows drawn. Pissed. At something. Or someone.

Tony stepped in carefully. "Okay. So clearly you're alive. That's a win."

She didn't look at him. Just muttered, "What do you want?"

"Friendly check-in. You missed dinner. Rogers got all cryptic and dramatic - shocking, I know - and Peter actually asked where you were with his big sad puppy eyes, which, by the way, I cannot emotionally handle before dessert."

Vicky finally looked up. "I'm fine."

Tony gave her a long look. "That was... not convincing."

She huffed, running a hand through her hair. "I just needed space."

"You've got an entire tower," Tony said. "Plenty of space to choose from. But instead you're holed up in here looking like you want to punch God in the throat."

"Maybe I do," she snapped, then immediately clenched her jaw again, annoyed with herself.

Tony tilted his head. "Okay. Mood swings confirmed. You're officially one of us."

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't ask for this, you know."

"Yeah," he said softly. "Neither did any of us."

That shut her up for a second. The silence stretched again, heavy, awkward.

Finally, Tony sighed and gestured toward the door. "Come downstairs. Eat something. Mock Steve's fashion sense. It's basically Avengers therapy."

Vicky hesitated. Her arms stayed crossed, foot bouncing lightly in agitation.

Tony raised his brows. "I'm not leaving without you, kid."

She groaned. "Fine. Just- give me a minute. And don't tell anyone I was being... whatever this is."

He mimed zipping his lips. "Your angsty secret is safe with me."

As he walked out, the door sliding closed behind him, Vicky let her head fall back against the wall. The green light on the bracelet blinked once. Her fists clenched.

She tries again, muttering to the ceiling, barely audible: "Don't what, exactly?"

No answer. Just the hum of the tower.

Vicky dragged herself off the floor with a growl, grabbed the hoodie hanging from her bedpost, and muttered, "Fine. Garlic bread better still be there."