As nine in the morning came, Dad and I were seated at the sofa in the living room. You'd be surprised at how long it took dad to choose an outfit. And do you know what he wore? Have a guess. A suit? No. A button-up? No again. Give up. Dad, you're dead. Mom will kill you. He's lucky mom wasn't here to make him wear a suit. I sighed and stared at my father who was rocking his usual AC/DC sweatshirt and pants. Eh, it always looked good on him though.
"Dad, you know mom's going to kill you," I drag out, shuddering as I picture mom giving dad a death glare.
"What? It's just a press con, plus, it's happening here at the tower," he answers defensively. I groaned in frustration, and Lucilla was not here. Great. This was one of those moments that my dad actually despised suits.
“As much as I want to agree with you, I’m really scared of mom when she gives you the ‘stink eye’,” he cringes too, as if he was actually seeing the stink eye that my mom gave us when she doesn’t approve about some of the things we do. Which was saying a lot.
A few seconds later, Lucilla came back, holding a black dress pants and a white button-up. I scoffed.
"Sir, I mean Tony, Miss Potts told me to make you wear this after she asked me what you were wearing," she said smirking. Oh wow. Mom had to call her to know what dad was wearing.
"Good luck making my father wear that," I roll my eyes while sipping my protein milkshake from my tumbler.
"Oh, he's wearing that, alright," I froze. Crap. Dad, you're so dead. I looked in front of the television, to see mom sitting down on a bed. She was wearing a white blazer with her signature ponytail. She must be at her hotel. She was wearing ‘the smile’. Oh my God oh my God oh my God. She was wearing her 'Do-As-I-Say' smile. I swear I felt something inside me stir, and it was out of fear because of that look. I smirk knowing dad is not getting away from this one. Mom turned to me and smiled sweetly.
"Hi sweetheart," she says with a little wave.
"Hi mom," I say with a smile of my own. She turned back to dad and I followed her actions turning to dad as well with a smirk. Ooh, I internally wince. Dad is so screwed.
"Tony, what are you wearing?” Mom says with the smile but you can practically see her eyes blazing.
"Uh, clothes? Obviously," dad answered with a raised eyebrow. Pft. That was such a lame attempt to avoid the stink eye and smile. Lucilla sat down next to me while mom and dad bickered.
"I'll bet you 100 bucks, dad's going to end up wearing that dress pants and button up," I smirk to Lucilla and she smirks back.
"Yeah, I'll take you on that bet; I bet you a hundred bucks he's going to end up just changing into the button up," she held out her hand. We shook on it and watched as mom and dad still kept on bickering. Oh, and dad, you are so going to make me 100 bucks today.
"Honey, it's just a press-con so no need to be fancy! And it's beings held here at the tower!" Dad reasons while sipping on his scotch that he brought with him when he came back. Mom rolled her eyes.
"Exactly, a press-con. At least wear the button up," Mom argues plainly. People, don't assume Lucilla is winning this. Lucilla nudged me and I kept calm.
Dad rolled his eyes while mom smiled at him. Dad groaned and stood up.
"Where are you going?" Mom asked.
"Where else? The bathroom to put on some clothes even though I'm already wearing them," he answers flatly while taking the clothes on the table, discarding his scotch. Mom giggled in triumph.
"Tony?" Mom calls out.
"Yeah?" Annoyance and hope in his voice.
"Thanks so much, I'll make it up to you," Mom says in a, dare I say it, sultry voice. With this, dad perked up, and I understood what they meant. Ewwwwwwwwwwwwieeeeee! These two forkin' lovebirds are going to have- Eeewwwwwwww! Oh forks! These two parents of mine... I love them but when they say or do this in front of me, their daughter, I want to just go into my room and stuff my face with food.
I sighed. Dad made his way to the bathroom to change, while I was left with Lucilla and mom.
"Elise, hon, make sure to watch over your father, you too Lucilla," Mom directed to me and Luci.
"Yes ma'am," Lucilla said still on the couch.
"Yeah sure," I replied.
After we chatted a bit, mom went out of the line to sleep or nap. I smirked my way at Lucilla and she rolled her eyes, fishing out a 100 bucks out of her wallet.
"Damn, I was so sure I was winning," she muttered shaking her head. I took the money and stashed it in a secret compartment in the couch.
"I never lose a bet," I said, a matter of fact. She rolled her eyes again and I smiled.
"Yeah right."
Dad came out a few minutes after mom went out, and he was wearing the pants and shirt, his jeans and sweatshirt tucked on his left arm.
"She never does, trust me," he said referring to our previous conversation. He put his clothes on the armrest of the couch and sat down, taking his scotch again.
The three of us chatted a bit and watched some lame old movie.
A few minutes later, we went down a few minutes early to the conference hall of Stark Tower and sat down on our places. Lucilla was beside me while Happy was beside dad. We were chatting away, until more guests, officials, and reporters came around. The time came and Lucilla stood up for the opening. She stood straight on the podium with the mic a good few inches away from her mouth.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, please be settled down in your seats and one question at a time, please. Thank you," she said kindly with a smile. She looked back at us.
"You're on." Dad and I stood up from our seats and went on to the podium, with the mic in between us. Reporters raised their hands and dad picked out a blond woman. Typical.
"Mr. Stark, since when have you moved in Stark Towers?" she asked, the camera rolling.
"Well, considering I accidentally blew up our home in Malibu,” cue laughter, “-A few months back, we decided to move in here after sorting out the problem in California. We have been staying here since February and plan on staying here until the house in California is rebuilt," dad answered effortlessly. After she sat down, another reporter called out.
"Mr. Stark is Stark Tower powered by an arc reactor or is it running on electricity? If so, why?" he asked. I thought we said one question at a time? Dude, were you even listening?
"Well, for now, Stark Tower is powered by electricity in the meantime. My daughter and I are still working on making a new reactor for the tower," dad answered, his usual paparazzi smike on his face.
"Ms. Stark, what led you to recreate a new arc reactor for the tower, given that there already is an existing one with provided blueprints?" a new female reporter asked. Wait, who picked you again?
Well, that arc reactor was actually destroyed and the arc reactor in Malibu was actually the newer and improved version of the arc reactor technology. But since nobody knew what actually happened back in the Afghanistan and birth of Iron Man incident, we were very careful about these types of questions. So, I answered her with a far-fetched but still remotely accurate answer to her question.
"We needed to build another because we needed its electromagnetic waves and energy to be compatible with the mechanisms and internal computerized structure of the tower. If we use the blueprint from the Industries' arc in Malibu, it is possible that the electromagnetic waves can radiate too much energy, and possibly affect the living and non-living resources near it, or blow up," I say calmly. I added, "Aside from this, we at Stark Industries are now focusing our Research and Development section solely on promoting and providing clean energy and expanding our business management and technology-based projects for the involvement of Stark International in the future." It went on with this routine for a few more hours and we went back up after.
I plopped myself on the couch and put on a random song on the speakers. It was a soft tune that I recognize. Lucilla was in the kitchen, cooking lunch and dad was next to me. I snuggled closer to dad who was now out of his dress pants and shirt, but wearing his previous sweatshirt and jeans. I was only wearing my tank top now and discarded my jacket on the armrest along with dad's button up and pants. Dad placed his arm next to me and massaged my head a bit.
This is nice. This is how dad and I usually spend the time after a press-con: snuggled and relaxed. But after lunch, we’re back to work. It's been quite a hectic month really. A tiresome, forkin', hectic month. I just want to say the F word over and over, but dad would kill me. How come he can say it and I can't?! Call me childish but it's true. So of course, in substitute to the F word, I use different words. Forking, fruit and veggies, forks and knives. Anything really.
"Dad?" I mumble in an attempt to make easy conversation.
"Hmm?"
"Why can't I say the F word?" Dad groaned and I snorted. We've had this conversation years ago. The frequent one was two weeks ago.
"We've discussed this. It's not inappropriate but I really don't want Pepper to rip me to shreds, you know the history you have with that word," he said in annoyance and humor in his voice.
"Yeah right, but you always say it, and besides mom loves me, she won't rip me to shreds," I pout.
"Me on the other hand? Dead in seconds," he answers just to humor me. I giggle and plop down on him, with my head on his lap.
"Okay boomer," I snicker quietly as he slapped me softly on the arm making me giggle even more. These are the days I've missed. Just me and dad arguing over pointless things. So, our conversation moved on from the 'F' word, to macaroons, to koalas, and to other pointless things a deranged person would talk about. Don't ask me how we got from the F word to macaroons. We surprise ourselves sometimes too.
This was us: The Stark Duo. Two crazy people with crazy and stupid ideas who talk about nonsense and argue on what to wear. And I can't have it any better.
"Hey, you two! Lunch is ready!" Lucilla yells. Dad and I scampered to the kitchen and smelled... steak. It was a New York strip, pan seared with fries and a barbecue sauce. Oh fruits and veggies. It smelled good.
"Hmm, you cook good!" I exclaim while eating the medium rare steak. Dad agreed and we finished our food for about a few minutes later and we ended up drinking some wine. I am a bit under age but this was only wine. Dad was okay with it. I sipped my wine and we talked about random stuff, and thus, we ended up in the lab, with Lucilla.
Night came by fast and they were all sound asleep, but for me, I was in bed thinking. I looked at my bedside clock to see it was only quarter to two in the morning. Fiddlesticks. I jumped out of bed, my white shirt and gray jogging pants tangled in the sheets. After I untangled myself, I walked out of my room and straight to the elevator. I pressed the floor to the living room and waited for the elevator to stop and open.
Stepping out, I walked to the kitchen, passing the living room as I did so. If you haven't guessed it yet, I'm going to have a midnight snack, and watch movies on the sofa until I pass out. I took out a tray from a cupboard and filled it with bowls of different types of berries, chocolates, frosted flakes, half a gallon of milk, a tub of ice cream, some spoons, and two Gatorades. Weird snacks, I know. Oh, if you haven't noticed, again, I have a crazy sweet tooth.
I walked to the living room and placed my tray on the low glass table. I wonder what to watch.
Action? No, too exciting.
Horror? No, too boring.
Oh, I know! James Bond! Oh, wait! Better yet, Doctor Who! And so, I had JARVIS dim the lights and I place a big blanket on my lap.
I sat down on the sofa and have JARVIS put on the first of Doctor Who. While watching, I munch on chocolate bars and at the same time popping berries in my mouth, occasionally laughing and wheezing at the show.
After I finished the first season, I decided I wanted to watch a movie. I had JARVIS change it to Fawlty Towers as I snuggle into my blanket and pillows. And that seemed to make me pass out on the sofa, with lots of sweets in my system.