Chapter Text
Shield Academy, a great lumberimg school just coming into view of Tony's windshield, was still felt like it was miles away because the driveway...dear god, the driveway. Tony would need a passport to get to the main parking lot. He was jamming to some AC/DC when it suddenly cut off and was replaced with a cultured British voice.
"Sir, you have an incoming call from a Mr. Scoffold. Shall I put him through?"
"Scoffold, Scoffold. Who the hell's that, Jay? I feel like I should know that name."
"Indeed, sir. He's one of Mr. Stane's lawyers."
"Fuck!" Tony's hands tightened on the wheel. "Jarvis, ignore him. Let the bloodsucker find some other stone to suck. Put the music back on."
After a moment of silence, sound poured back through the speakers. Tony wrenched the volume up as loud as his ears could stand. Goddamn Stane. Tony hadn't been involved in Stark Industries since his old man died, yet still couldn't get Obie off his back. Well, he wasn't getting anything from Tony now, no matter how the lawyers piled up.
Up ahead, a gate blocked the entrance to the driveway, complete with a little booth beside it.
"Hey, there." Tony slid the sunglasses from his forehead down the slope of his nose and smiled at the blonde inside the booth. "Tony Stark. Your boss is waiting for me."
He handed her his ID, waited while she ran it through the system, and let his fingers linger on hers when she handed it back. "So. I'm new here. Care to show me around later?"
She smiled at him in a way that said he was cute but not THAT cute. "Oh, I'm sure you get around quite enough on your own."
The gate hummed to life and began to part. He gave her uniformed body one last sweep of his eyes, then eased his way into the driveway. The lane. Hell, it was its own fucking highway. He could go 65 on this baby, no problem.
When he finally-hallelujah!-crested the last hill, the main building loomed before him in all its grand institutional glory. Should've just slapped 'undercover cop' on the sign and been done with it. He parked his car and stepped out, pausing to look at the lush green fields which surrounded him. He knew from the brochures that there was a footbool field nearby but he couldn't see it from where he parked.
The other cars around him were nice, well-maintained, obviously owned by people with money. He'd built his own car, so it was awesome, but if Obie hadn't stolen his trust fund along with his company, he could have built a whole army of them. He coukd have built his own empire.
Overcome by a surge of anger, he slammed the car door shut and began to pace back and forth like an angry cat. Growing up, Tony had been told he could do anything, be anything, if he only stopped screwing around, straightened up, did whatever the old man said to. Andcthecone time he tried to-the one time!
His fist hit the hood of somebody else's car. He folded over it, breathing hard.
"Mr. Stark," said a mild voice behind him. ""You're late."
Tony slowly straightened and made sure to regrain his composure before turning around. "Agent! Imagine seeing you here."
"I work here. Would you like to come inside now?"
"Right. Just let me get my-"
"Oh, don't worry. Your things'll be okay. We have only the best security here."
"Officer Hottie back there? She doesn't look like she could break a pencil."
"Officer Tate is a decorated war vet and I'd trust her with my life. But I'm actually talking about someone else."
"Let me guess. Ninjas!"
"We prefer to call him the hulk."
The two of them stepped inside. A man named Nick Fury had been the one to offer Tony this job but he'd never actually met the man. Just this guy. Phil Coulson. So calm and unassuming it set Tony's teeth on edge. No one was this nice. Not without wanting something. And a good many people had a wanted a great many things from the Starks over the years. Tony was just the latest in a long line of chumps to get suckered by a nice smile and a friendly face.
"Here we are. Please, have a seat."
The office was as plain as owner. A desk sat in front of a small window, facing the door, and a bank of old-fashioned file cabinets lined one of the walls to the left of the desk. It was oddly quaint and contrasted against the modern computer Coulson was logging into.
"All of your paperwork is in order-thanks for that, by the way-we just need you to sign a few more, then everything's good to go."
The printer came to life and began to spit out sheets of paper. Soon, Coulson had a small pile stacked up in front of him. He made to hand it across the desk but Tony shrank back against his chair.
"Ah, no, sorry. I don't like it when people hand me things."
Coulson paused. His vaguely pleasant expression didn't change but there was something which had better not be pity in his eyes. He slid the papers across, instead.
"Please read, then sign on the lines."
One of the things that Tony had learned over the years was to always read the entire document you were about to sign, right down to the fine print, no matter how small, no matter legal the mumbo jumbo got. Otherwise, you ran the risk of getting screwed over and losing everything. Then you're out on your ass, flat broke with a car as your new penthouse.
Coulson waited patiently as Tony read through each and every page. He paused to occasionally sign his name with a flourish and, when he made it to the end, dropped his pen down with a heavy sense of finality.
"Great!" Coulson chirped. "Glad to jave you on board, Mr. Stark. I'm sure the students will love you."
Tony sighed long and hard.