d result of blowing up some warehouses? They were always devoid of people, so it wasn't killing he enjoyed. Nick hadmented about how he was "slaughtering big business" before, but Steve wasn't entirely sure what that meant. The public seemed to hold the view that Iron Man was an ex-employee with a vendetta against capitalism in general, but Steve wasn't so sure about that either. It was possible, but it implied that Iron Man was unhinged, just going around blowing things up because he'd been fired, and Iron Man had never seemed anything but calculating.

It stood to reason that with all his intelligence, he would choose his targets with pinpoint precision.

He'd been keeping track of Iron Man's activities for months now, but for all his charts and diagrams, he couldn't uncover anything SHIELD hadn't already. Iron Man targeted a wide spread ofpanies without any discernible reason, but his two biggest targets were undeniable—Stark and Hammer Industries. Not notable in and of itself, since those were easily two of the biggestpanies in the United States, but they were also both weaponspanies.

Considering Iron Man was basically a giant weapon with a person inside, it wasn't a stretch to imagine that if he had once been affiliated with apany, it would've been with Stark or Hammer Industries. Bothpanies had the resources to design something like the Iron Man suit; could one of them have designed Iron Man as a prototype, and had it spiral out of their control? No, Nick was far too anxious to catch Iron Man for a cover-up to have gone unnoticed.

Steve's train of thought led him right back to where it always did: one person, acting alone,pleting some personal mission. What mission could be so important he would be a supervillain to achieve it, but wouldn't tell Steve? Admittedly, it wasn't as if they were friends, but there was…something between them. They flirted and bantered and every once in a while, Steve was able to catch a glimpse of the man under the armor, if only for the briefest of moments.

Steve's head was starting to hurt when his phone beeped.

Still wanna see a robot?

He leaned back against the wall with a rueful smile. Tony. He'd let Iron Man mess with his head too long. Iron Man was his job, was a supervillain, was…not an option. Tony was real, was amazing, and was interested in him as a person instead of some spandex-covered figurehead.

Tony's robot was probably much cooler anyway.

Of course.

119 W 23rd St, apt# 27

Now?

Got something better to do?

Steve glanced around his quarters. Diagrams of Iron Man's targets were mapped out on his walls, news clippings of the attacks and the printed articles from when he'd first appeared were spread across his desk. Aside from his research though, there wasn't much: a dresser, a desk, a small bathroom with counters bare but for a bar of soap and a bottle of cheap shampoo. He'd been sent after Iron Man almost immediately after waking up, and he'd been easily the most interesting thing Steve had ever seen. He'd gotten so wrapped up in the mystery of Iron Man, he hadn't bothered with things like hobbies or friends; he hadn't bothered to develop a life here. Not until now.

I'll be there soon.

Tony felt great.

Okay, he could only sort of remember Friday night, a blur of shots and karaoke and inducting Steve into their group, and all of Saturday was kind of hazy too, but more the lost-track-of-time-doing-science hazy than drunk-hazy. He should think about switching fields; he made a hell of a chemist when he wanted to. He'd created a drug strong enough to temporarily wipe Captain America's memory, who else could say that?

To be fair, not many others had tried, but that wasn't the point.

The point was that between partying with his friends Friday, science-ing away his Saturday, and playing supervillain to Cap's superhero this morning, all in all he'd had a fucking fantastic weekend. Not to mention he could cross another StarkIndustries double-dealer off his list; he was getting close.

He felt so great, he decided to share the mood. All his tech was safely locked away on the Iron Lair—yeah, it was a stupid name; it was also funny, fuck off—so he couldn't exactly show Steve his awesome workshop, but JARVIS would probably be more than enough to impress him.

Tony had moved to an apartment back when all this began, nice and clean but nothing special, using it more for cover than anything else. He spent most of his time in the Iron Lair working on the suit or fucking around in the lab, and since it had a bed, bathroom, and small but functioning kitchen, he only really came to the apartment when he needed to keep up appearances for something, usually his and Clark's game nights, or on the rare asion Rhodey was in town and could drop by.

He'd still installed JARVIS though. Partially because Rhodey and Pepper would immediately know he didn't live there if he didn't, mostly because even if he only spent minimal time there, he wasn't used to things being so quiet.

As soon as Steve texted back—I'll be there soon—Tony realized he was still dirty from his morning fight with Cap. He took a lightning fast shower, before spending an absolutely ridiculous amount of time changing clothes. He'd finally settled on his favorite band shirt—a good excuse to introduce Steve to AC/DC—and his best pair of jeans when his phone buzzed again.

Door code?

#5779

Tony finished yanking on his jeans and tried to figure out what to do with himself. Should he go open the door? Would that be weird? Should he just sit on the couch? Also weird. He could pretend he was watching tv, that was good—

Steve knocked on his door before he could cross the room.

"JARVIS, you're on mute until I've warmed him up to the idea. If you greet him without warning, his pretty little Amish head might explode."

"Lovely imagery as always, sir."

"Hey, Steve!" Tony opened the door instead of responding to JARVIS' snark.

"Who were you talking to?" Steve asked curiously, peering over Tony's shoulder.

"JARVIS, he's…" Tony waved a hand, gesturing for Steve toe in. "Well, I'll explain in a minute,e inside first. I've got water, a fuckload of coffee…oh, and I think Clark left some orange juice behind last time he crashed here. You want something?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Steve toed off his shoes, polite as ever. "Does uh, Clark crash here often?"

"Yeah, we have video game tournaments. We're prettypetitive about not being the one to call it quits first though, so instead we usually just play until we both pass out on the couch. He claims he can't play without getting 'juiced up' though, so he always brings orange juice and ets it in the morning."

"Sounds like him." Steve laughed.

"Okay, so, JARVIS." Tony clapped his hands together eagerly. "First, to properly understand my genius here: do you know what an AI is?"

"Artificial intelligence, right?"

"Right. Now, generally speaking, AI capabilities are pretty slim at the moment. As far as public consumption goes, the best they can do is maybe Dum-E. Possibly Butterfingers and You, but they can't—"

"Me?"

"No, You. I mean, You, capital Y, it's his name. He, Dum-E, and Butterfingers are my other bots."

"Those aren't very nice names." Steve raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"They aren't very smart bots." Tony grinned. "Which is my point. Dum-E especially, I made him when I was seventeen and wasted off my ass and it totally shows—"

"You made an artificially intelligent robot as a drunken teenager?" Steve's eyes boggled. "That's brilliant, Tony."

"Well." Tony would deny to his grave the heat he felt on his cheeks just then. It wasn't like he hadn't been called brilliant a million and one times before. Steve was just looking at him so…earnestly. He was impressed like Tony had wanted him to be, but there was also this look in his eyes, something like pride, like he was glad to know Tony or something else ridiculous and mushy. "You know. Boring weekend, I had to spice it up somehow."

"Where are they?" Steve looked behind Tony excitedly, and Tony stifled a laugh at his eagerness.

"Storage, unfortunately." Or an invisible plane in the sky. Same difference. "I'll show you them another time. JARVIS totally kicks their asses anyway. You think Dum-E makes me brilliant, prepare to be blown away. JARVIS, give me Dum-E's specs to play with."

"Of course, sir."

Steve startled minutely at JARVIS' voice, then again when Tony threw out his hands and the blue holographics came to life. They flickered and danced around his hands as usual, pre-programmed to correspond with his every twitch. He played with the specs a bit, pulling the holographic Dum-E apart idly, more interested in watching Steve's face than what he was actually doing.

Steve was utterly amazed. His mouth hung open in wordless wonder, his eyes darting around the room, trying to track every movement.

"And might I add that it's good to meet you, Mr. Robinson?"

Steve startled out of his stupor, and Tony glared up at his AI.

"I told you not to talk to him directly until I warmed him up, J, what the hell?"

"I apologize, sir, the parameters of 'warmed up' were unclear."

"That's fantastic," Steve murmured, wide eyes drifting to the ceiling, "It's like he's…"

"Real, right?" Tony grinned proudly. "That's the point of Artificial Intelligence. JARVIS is, for all intents and purposes, sentient. He learns, he adapts; he's the closest thing to human technology has ever gotten. He can't disobey my direct orders—otherwise you've got a recipe for Terminator all over again—but he sure as hell loves to wiggle his way around them."

"I'm only as sneaky as my creator, sir."

Steve gave a snort of laughter, and Tony gave one of indignation.

"I'll rewire you, don't think I won't."

"I like him." Steve just smiled at their banter. "What's a terminator?"

"Oh, we are so having a movie night." Tony grinned right back. "JARVIS? Load up Terminator—"

"What, now?" Steve looked surprised.

"If you want to see it, I mean," Tony quickly back-tracked

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