─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
My foot tapped against the floor to the light upbeat tune playing from the elevator's speakers. Eyes, staring up at the rising number above the doors.
My mini-party didn't last long as my destination was only a floor above the helipad.
As soon as the doors opened, I was greeted by Steve's startled expression. "Y/N," he said my name like it was unnatural to find me in my own home.
"Mister Rogers!" My hand shot up in a mock salute.
He shook his head. "You make me sound like the old guy from that kid's show you used to watch," he chuckled.
"I'm not too far off," I shrugged smugly. Although my smile fell as the elevator doors began to shut, making me squeeze through at the last minute.
Steve only laughed. "You calling me old, kiddo?" He jerked his head up towards the stairs, indicating that I follow him.
"Does it really count as being old if you've been asleep for like... a million years and still look young?" I partially joked as we traversed up the stairs.
"Sixty-six years," he scoffed. "And that depends on how you see it. I'm either 30ish or 100ish."
"So you're like my Uncle Grandpa?" I snorted.
"That sounds... Pretty lame. As you would say."
"I think it sounds cooler to brag about having an uncle who's a hundred years old and can still kick ass," I said, poorly imitating the punches I've seen him throw.
He laughed at me. "Don't say ass," he scolded, raising his hand to ruffle my hair to which I whined.
Silence washed over us and I turned around to find Steve had stopped halfway up the stairs. The smile he directed at me began to feel a bit forced if not beginning to feel pitiful.
"What?" I asked.
Then he asked me a question...
A question that seemingly came out of nowhere. A question I didn't expect to catch me off guard. A question that deprived me of the positive energy I felt when bantering with Steve just a moment ago.
"You doin' okay?"
"What do you mean?" I knew what he meant. I just wanted to be sure before I suffocate him with years of worry and anxiety.
"After what happened with Loki, you've been very..." He paused. "You've been around more. Not that having you around a lot isn't nice. I just can't see your dad without you tailing him like you're part of his shadow. Not to mention being the first face we see every time we land the jet."
I huffed, tilting my head up at the see-through walls of my father's lab. The same lab I was on my way to before our untimely encounter. A look of uncertainty replaced the one of worry on Steve's face.
"At first I thought it was puberty but I realized that was stupid." He continued to climb, catching up with me and putting an arm around my shoulders. "Come on. Tell uncle Steve what's wrong."
A small smile flashed on my lips for a mere second. "I... I'm scared... For my dad's well being," I answered. It wasn't what he was expecting but I wasn't sure if it was what I was expecting either.
"Of course. But there's something else, isn't there? You want to be able to do something more than just sit and wait each time we go out." Steve pushed on, pushing us along. I glanced up at the lab, seeing my dad and Bruce having their own conversation.
It got me thinking.
Being overprotective of my father because I couldn't help. Because of the barrier standing between me and being there beside him every time he went and faced whatever dangers were out there.
The same barrier that would've divided him from the rest of the Avengers if only he didn't have that damn suit...
And then it clicked.
I turned to look at Steve who seemed amused by the sudden shine in my eyes as I realized what I was missing this entire time.
"I wanna be an Avenger."
That, apparently, wasn't the answer Steve was looking for when the colour drained from his face.
But the adrenaline coursed through my veins at the revelation I had just made.
"I wanna have my own suit! So I can be part of the team and go on super cool missions with you guys and never have to worry about my dad ever again because I'll always be there!"
Steve dropped his arm from my shoulders and rapidly shook his head at that. "No, Y/N. That's not what I meant. You're only fifteen-"
"Why not? I learned Taekwondo when I was seven! With my dad's tech, I could be the next Iron Man! I'm gonna go!" I exclaimed, pushing past Steve and darting back down towards the elevator. "Thanks, Uncle Steve!"
"Y/N, wait!"
● ◉ ◎ ◈ ◎ ◉ ●
The next time I ever saw my dad after my talk with Steve was days later.
He and Bruce spent late nights in the lab, working on something they refused to let me know about.
I wasn't too upset. I was thankful it gave me time to build up the courage to ask him about a suit.
After all, it's what gave him the ability to fight with the Avengers. Plus they could always use the extra hand. I didn't know what else I could do if I couldn't look out for my dad with him on the front lines.
All I had to do was find him. The task already being a hassle as I struggled to get hold of Jarvis right as the party began. I waved it off as a delay, thinking it was my father showing him off to his guests.
I had bumped into every single person in the room except my father. Half the people already pulled me into lengthy conversations and jokes about my life as a modern-day Rapunzel having not left the tower since I was born. Some even tried to get me to put a good word in with my dad who I myself could not, for the life of me, find.
I was surprised he didn't spot me seeing as my pink dress made me stick out like a sore thumb. I wasn't particularly fond of it as it made me look half my age but it was something he designed so I didn't get lost in the sea of people.
Pretty ironic.
I was ready to give up, plucking a glass of red wine from one of the unguarded tables with no intention of actually drinking it, and aiming for a sofa to collapse into when I heard someone clear their throat to my right.
... Or cover up the word "Testosterone" with a forced cough.
I turned to where it came from and smiled seeing Maria and Rhodey walking away from Thor who was conveniently standing next to Tony.
"Hey! There she is!" my father pointed at me then squinted his eyes at the cup in my hand. "Is that wine?"
I eyed the people around me and quickly handed the glass to a random passerby before skipping towards the duo. "Not a drop, I swear," I ran a finger over my chest, crossing my heart.
He grumbled out, "Good. I don't want to see you turn out like I did."
"Thor! Have you greeted Thor?" He asked as quickly as a look of concern flashed on my face.
I shook my head and smiled at the god who was almost twice my height. "Good evening, sir," I spoke meekly.
Talking to Thor wasn't the most fun thing in the world. As easily as I get along with most of the team, Thor was just one of those I couldn't seem to keep a conversation with. Which was strange seeing as I would've loved to hear all about the realistic bits of Norse mythology.
"Greetings, young Stark..."
Silence...
Awkward silence...
Then a cough from my dad. "Alright. Hey, little Neoma! Uh- Thor, could you excuse us?"
I was pulled-... No, dragged by my dad by the heels of my peach-coloured doll shoes which scraped against the polished floorboards.
"I should put a tracker on you. That was a hell of a first hour," he joked as we stopped by a support beam.
I didn't have time to waste. Losing him now would mean spending ages finding him again. "Dad, I wanted to ask you something."
"Straight to the point. Go on." He leaned against the beam.
I took a deep breath. "Can I get fighting lessons?" I asked, already regretting it when the positive energy emitting from my father turned sour.
He didn't respond, trying to read my face for any hints that I was merely joking while at the same time trying to process an answer.
"What? Like self-defence stuff? Taekwondo? Or Karate?" He lifted his hand to mimic a chop, dropping it immediately and making it seem like he changed his mind halfway.
"... I want to learn to fight like Aunt Natasha and Uncle Steve. If not, I want a suit like yours so I can-"
"Are you joking?" He asked genuinely. "Is this a joke? Okay, I get it. It's payback for the whole 'sentient' thing, isn't it?" He laughed. "Because like hell am I gonna put my fifteen-year-old daughter in an Iron Man suit. Heck, even if you were thirty, I wouldn't put you in a suit."
I felt my heart sink, hands clenching at my sides. "I don't think I can spend another day with you risking your life out there while I'm in here not doing nothing to help whatsoever!" I argued.
"And I don't think I can spend even a second fighting and babysitting you, praying to God that when I come home, you come home with me... Alive and well," he spoke sternly, leaning in to make sure I heard him loud and clear over the party.
My breathing hitched as I did everything in my power not to cry right then and there. I opened my mouth to speak.
"You want fighting lessons? I'm finding you a trainer. For self-defense," he finished the conversation for us both.
My head began to ache, unable to situate my feelings and thoughts after the exchange with my father.
I never was good with emotions and feelings...
Wonder whose fault that was.
He sighed and spoke up again, this time in a kinder tone. "Look, Munchkin... We talked about this. What I'm doing is for your safety. I can't let the world go to shit when I know my little girl is in it..."
I frowned, dropping my eyes down to the shiny floorboards.
"I swore on my life that I'd be there to see you live yours. So don't ever worry about me not coming home. Because every time I find myself stuck in a situation I think I can't get out of, I remind myself..." He paused to run a hand through my hair softly, lifting my head to look me in the eyes.
Whatever he was about to tell me, I always knew the meaning behind the words was that he does everything for me. I just never understood to what extent.
I was always selfish. Always wanting the best of both worlds. Where our planet was guaranteed safety and I had my father with me. But I knew I had to accept whatever the conditions were, living under Tony Stark's roof.
So I was ready to ball my eyes out the moment he finished his heartfelt message.
"I'm not ready to leave all my money with Y/N."
I snorted, shoving his hand off my head and turning to wipe the stray tears that had escaped from the build-up.
"I hate you." He scoffed at that and put his drink down on a nearby counter to wrap both his arms around me.
"I don't think you do," he whispered when I returned his embrace. "Please listen to me when I say this, Neoma... I love you. And there isn't a day where I won't come back to you."
That's all I needed to hear.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───