House Calls

[clint_barton]

 

"I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Stark is currently unavailable and unannounced house calls are highly discouraged. Please contact Ms. Potts to make an appointment."

Standing at the doorway of Stark's Malibu home, Clint gives the interface on the wall a mildly annoyed glance. The well-mannered rejection isn't unexpected, but Clint would stake his life on the fact that Stark's computer knows exactly who he means by "Mr. Stark". Only Stark would give his AI an attitude problem on purpose.

"No, not your Mr. Stark. I'm here for Stark Senior. I just need to speak with him, don't even need to step inside. Just patch me through."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I am not authorized to allow-"

“Stark, I know you're listening. S.H.I.E.L.D. has some questions for your dad, I'm here to relieve you of babysitting duty. Let me speak to him and we'll both be out of your hair within the hour."

The buzz and click of the door lock releasing comes almost before he's finished the sentence. The smooth English accent follows a short second later, all polite efficiency. "Mr. Stark is in the second guest bedroom on the first floor."

 

Comments

[fatherofinnovention]

"Good to meet you, Agent Barton."

Luckily for Clint, the 40s are still present-- just contained instead in Howard's dress habits. After giving him a quick, polite grin and returning the offered handshake, he picks up a set of suspenders right out of his old WWII era wardrobe and begins snapping them in place.

"I'm willing to hear it."

[clint_barton]

"Likewise."

Retro doesn't quite cover Howard's fashion sense or body language - definitely looks like the guy walked off of a black and white film. The clash between Howard's appearance and demeanor and the cool lines of Stark's home is a bit harsh, to say the least.

Then again, Clint isn't exactly blending in either with his all-black S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. Retrieving a phone from a chest pocket of his jacket, he sweeps his thumb across the screen before holding it out for Howard's inspection.

Despite the small screen, the striking blue square is easy to recognize - the tesseract.

"We were wondering if you'd be interested in consulting on a few research projects."

[fatherofinnovention]

The cocky little half-smile on his face fades once he takes the phone from Clint's fingers. Part of the reason why he agreed to hide away in Tony's spare room was to get away from the Tesseract and reminders of what its interference had cost him.

He spends only a few seconds lost in consideration before the facade is up and running again, and the phone returned.

"Sure, I'm interested. But you're going to have to tell me a bit more about what I'll be getting out of it." Howard tilts his head towards the rest of the house. "After all, I still have a say in how things are run around here, and I do want to keep an eye on my legacy."

[clint_barton]

Clint doesn't seem bothered by Howard's brief hesitation, observing quietly as his self-assured expression falters before accepting the phone and slipping it back into its pocket.

"An official position in S.H.I.E.L.D., salary and funding, your own residence on base." He pauses momentarily, trying to get a read on Howard's motivations, what that hesitation meant. "A chance to figure out how exactly that cube pulled you through time."

[fatherofinnovention]

Howard leans forward towards the mirror on his wall, running his still bandaged hand through the waves in his hair to straighten them out. He fixates on this task the same way he fixates on his work, because the last thing he needs is one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents getting a glimpse at the cracks in his personal life, and the best way to cover his tracks is to keep his actions simple on the surface.

Anthony has things well in hand. Not to his standards, of course, but the company is still standing, still outperforming the competition. And Howard knows he can't keep pretending to be useful taking up space in a stranger's house any more than he can pretend to be the guy's father. Because he's not. He's not that Howard Stark. He's not certain he ever will be.

"Deal." He says as he turns on his heel to reach for his jacket, checking to make sure his phone is tucked neatly inside one of its pockets. "But I want more than just the usual setup. If you want me to hit on all sixes, you need to make sure I have everything required to get the job done. Including a flat that's not some hole in the wall with a bed."

[clint_barton]

Back to wheeling and dealing; Clint suspects that it's a cover, is positive of it, but he doesn't push it. He's gotten what he needs and it's not his business to pry - at the moment, anyway.

"I'm sure that won't be a problem, sir." Howard's complaints about his previous housing arrangements weren't exactly a secret. They hadn't built him Stark tower in the desert to compensate, but they were prepared to give him the nicest residence on base. Looks like they were right to assume Tony got his "diva" from his dad's side of the family.

Without wasting anymore time, Clint clicks his radio to life. "Ready for pickup. Meet us out front in fifteen."

[not_iron]

By the time they get moving, Tony's already upstairs, back to the front door as he digs around in a bag of Lays.

"Looks like a party. Any reason I wasn't invited?"