POI fic: Post-Mission
TITLE: POI fic - Post Mission
RATING: G
DISCLAIMER: do not own
SUMMARY: Iron Man fusion #3. The aftermath of a disastrous mission
Notes: Reese=Iron Man; Finch=Tony Stark; Carter=Pepper; Fusco=Happy
The latest Iron Man mission had ended in a near disaster.
Harold had already sequestered himself his lab by the time John began to get over the effects of his concussion. With Harold out of reach, John found himself the sole focus of Carter’s fierce protective instincts. He was forced to eat and rest since she couldn’t impose the same behavior on Harold. John was beginning to loath the sight of chicken noodle soup, but fortunately Lionel was willing to bring him contraband in the form of beer and take out.
Having regained his strength, it was time to deal with a guilt-stricken Harold.
He made his way down to Harold’s lab, rapping on the glass door to gain the genius inventor’s attention.
Harold’s head popped up from behind a mound of pieces for the Iron Man suit, where he had been feverishly working on upgrades since John‘s last mission. His hair was in complete disarray and his eyes were rather manic, but he had a hesitant smile as he caught sight of John. He got up stiffly and made his way slowly over to the door. When he opened the door John cleared his throat and began “Sorry to interrupt you Harold, but the TV reception seems to be acting up. I was really hoping to watch the big game tonight--my favorite team is playing.” John pasted a rather forlorn look on his face. He didn’t think it was justified, but he wasn’t above using Harold’s guilt about the recent mission to get what he wanted.
Looking back wistfully at his equipment, Harold left the lab and began to follow John upstairs. The lab door quietly locking shut behind him.
In the upstairs lounge Harold frowned at the blurry, distorted picture on the big screen TV. The problem occurred on every channel. He couldn’t believe it, his personal super satellite reception shouldn’t be subject to this type of interference. He began poking around at the equipment, trying to discover the source of the problem. Not seeing any obvious indications, he muttered that he would need to do a more in depth diagnostic. He then became aware of the lovely smell of green tea. Turning, he saw John offering him a plastic mug with a smile on his face. “Why don’t you take a break for a minute while I go fetch your laptop?” he said gently.
Harold grumbled slightly at the interruption, but was swayed by the lure of the tea and sat down on the nearby couch.
John left the room, pausing just outside the door to keep an eye on Harold as he sipped his tea. In a short time the mild sedative John had laced the tea with took effect and Harold slumped over in the first sleep he had had in days.
John reentered the room and contemplated his sleeping boss. Normally he would carry him to his bedroom, but he didn’t think his ribs would appreciate that at the moment. So he settled for removing Harold’s glasses and arranging him more comfortably on the sofa. He then covered him with the fluffy blanket before settling down on the adjacent sofa where he could keep an eye on him.
The Machine obligingly cleared up the interference it had been causing on the TV and muted the volume. John figured the food he had ordered (Harold’s favorites) should be here about the time Harold finished his nap, and began plotting how he would get the genius to eat dinner. At least this time he hadn’t needed to resort to a fire alarm to get the man out of the lab.
RATING: G
DISCLAIMER: do not own
SUMMARY: Iron Man fusion #3. The aftermath of a disastrous mission
Notes: Reese=Iron Man; Finch=Tony Stark; Carter=Pepper; Fusco=Happy
The latest Iron Man mission had ended in a near disaster.
Harold had already sequestered himself his lab by the time John began to get over the effects of his concussion. With Harold out of reach, John found himself the sole focus of Carter’s fierce protective instincts. He was forced to eat and rest since she couldn’t impose the same behavior on Harold. John was beginning to loath the sight of chicken noodle soup, but fortunately Lionel was willing to bring him contraband in the form of beer and take out.
Having regained his strength, it was time to deal with a guilt-stricken Harold.
He made his way down to Harold’s lab, rapping on the glass door to gain the genius inventor’s attention.
Harold’s head popped up from behind a mound of pieces for the Iron Man suit, where he had been feverishly working on upgrades since John‘s last mission. His hair was in complete disarray and his eyes were rather manic, but he had a hesitant smile as he caught sight of John. He got up stiffly and made his way slowly over to the door. When he opened the door John cleared his throat and began “Sorry to interrupt you Harold, but the TV reception seems to be acting up. I was really hoping to watch the big game tonight--my favorite team is playing.” John pasted a rather forlorn look on his face. He didn’t think it was justified, but he wasn’t above using Harold’s guilt about the recent mission to get what he wanted.
Looking back wistfully at his equipment, Harold left the lab and began to follow John upstairs. The lab door quietly locking shut behind him.
In the upstairs lounge Harold frowned at the blurry, distorted picture on the big screen TV. The problem occurred on every channel. He couldn’t believe it, his personal super satellite reception shouldn’t be subject to this type of interference. He began poking around at the equipment, trying to discover the source of the problem. Not seeing any obvious indications, he muttered that he would need to do a more in depth diagnostic. He then became aware of the lovely smell of green tea. Turning, he saw John offering him a plastic mug with a smile on his face. “Why don’t you take a break for a minute while I go fetch your laptop?” he said gently.
Harold grumbled slightly at the interruption, but was swayed by the lure of the tea and sat down on the nearby couch.
John left the room, pausing just outside the door to keep an eye on Harold as he sipped his tea. In a short time the mild sedative John had laced the tea with took effect and Harold slumped over in the first sleep he had had in days.
John reentered the room and contemplated his sleeping boss. Normally he would carry him to his bedroom, but he didn’t think his ribs would appreciate that at the moment. So he settled for removing Harold’s glasses and arranging him more comfortably on the sofa. He then covered him with the fluffy blanket before settling down on the adjacent sofa where he could keep an eye on him.
The Machine obligingly cleared up the interference it had been causing on the TV and muted the volume. John figured the food he had ordered (Harold’s favorites) should be here about the time Harold finished his nap, and began plotting how he would get the genius to eat dinner. At least this time he hadn’t needed to resort to a fire alarm to get the man out of the lab.