↹ HEARTBREAK // M C U ↹ DISCONTINUED

0.8

There was one thought on repeat in Jet's head. I don't know how to exist around you. She was hiding behind crossed arms resting on her knees, only her eyes peeking out. She longed for the comfort of her favorite black hoodie, currently in the washing machine after a lost battle with a bottle of barbeque sauce. Her pajama pants were dark blue with stars on them, which would be embarrassing if they weren't so damn comfortable.

It had been two weeks since she'd come to live with her father. The man was busy most days, but at night he always seemed to be there. Instead of take-out or microwavable meals, there were actual dinnertime meals. Like, Tony knew how to cook somehow. And sure, half the time there was a private chef seemingly on stand-by, but sometimes she'd walk into the kitchen and he'd be chopping and stirring and shit. The only things Jet's mother knew how to make always came from a can or a box.

And now, they were sitting uncomfortably across from each other on one of the couches. If she were five years younger, she'd be chewing on the sleeves of her long shirt. It was tempting. Harry liked to chew on the strings of his hoodie when they watched movies. He'd bite at hers sometimes, too. The idiot.

She hadn't seen Harry in two weeks. They video-chatted and texted most of the day away, but it wasn't the same as being next to him. And it was because of Tony, the ever-confusing man who had fathered her. Because she had a freaking driver to take her to and from school, meaning she had no chance to duck out and check on him. And she had been relieved of her duties at Oscorp, according to a very concise email she'd gotten three days after the gala. Apparently, Norman had fired half of his staff and was even more paranoid than usual. At least, that's what Harry told her.

"Are you . . . okay?" He looked at her cautiously, like she'd bite his head off if he made the wrong move. Hell, she felt like it.

I'm making a list in my head of all the things I hate about you.

"I haven't seen Harry in forever." She said instead. "He's not at smart as me, I need to help him with his homework or he'll flunk out and get a job at McDick's."

Tony blinked. "Isn't the Osborn kid supposed to be a prodigy?"

"No." She cleared her throat. "I mean, he skipped a grade or two, sure. But, that was like, third and fourth grade. Baby stuff. I could have skipped all of junior high if I'd wanted. He totally needs me."

"Don't you have homework too?" He cocked his head. "I don't think I've even seen a worksheet."

Jet had sort of . . . not been doing any of her homework. Not that it really mattered grade-wise. Most of the semester was test points and the final. Besides Physics, where the teacher didn't 'believe' in giving anything higher than a B, she had straight A's. Which was easy, since she already knew all of the curricula.

"It's too boring to give effort to." She finally said, reaching for the backpack left on the floor by the couch. She yanked out the thick folder of worksheets, passing them over. "See, baby stuff."

She winced at the choked sound Tony made. She probably should've stayed quiet. Her father mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer, flipping through the stack. He raised an eyebrow halfway through, holding up a half-finished math sheet. She'd given up on it after redoing the same problem three times and scribbled demon faces and insults all over the page.

"I'm not a fan of decimals." She said quietly, slumping down in her seat.

Tony stared at her with a look that said 'what the fuck'.

"Besides, my teacher is a total asshole. Doesn't deserve my genius."

"Yeah, I got that from the crucifix and 'may the power of Christ compel you into being less of a douche' ."

"I wasn't gonna give it to him. . . probably."

"You do realize that doing homework helps you remember what you learn in class?"

Jet wanted to groan. "Yeah, so it's unnecessary. I learned all the stuff they're teaching when I was still in Sketchers. I mean, I'm only in school for social interaction or whatever. To make sure I don't become a self-righteous prick, I think."

"Not sure that's something that can be prevented. And if you want social interaction, go to MIT where the smart people are. Plenty of nerds to talk Legos with."

"I still have over a semester before I graduate." The duh was implied.

"Why don't you just test out?'

"Huh?" She sat up straighter. "That's an option?"

"How do you think I started college so soon?" He rolled his eyes. "I mean, I hated high school classes. It wasn't until college that I could actually think and be challenged."

Jet felt like an idiot. How had she not realized she could skip her way out of school entirely? She'd kind of thought she'd be required to complete twelve years no matter what, even if that meant skipping two grades and having to retake senior year three times. What else could a super senior be?

"Huh." She repeated, stumped. "Can I do that now?"

Tony shrugged. "Probably. I can call the school tomorrow. You can probably graduate early, at least."

"You're going to have to prove you're actually my father." She mentioned, leaning back on the couch. "As far as the school is concerned my dad died in a boating accident when I was six and my mom sounds like this."

She pinched her nose, speaking with a nasally accent at the end. Tony shook his head.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a weird kid?"

She hummed in thought. "Nah, but Harry says he's fifty-percent sure I'm a maniac."

She was almost surprised at the snort of laughter. "Not the worst odds, I suppose."

Jet dug her toes into the couch cushions. She let the silence carry for all of three seconds before speaking again. "So, can I see Harry this weekend?"

"Sure, I guess. There's a party this Saturday, but it'll just be a bunch of work people, probably bore you."

"Work people? Like, Avengers people?" She asked, cocking her head. She had yet to speak or even meet any of the Avengers so far, even though she was fairly certain at least two of them lived on one of the other floors of the Tower. Tony was often out or in his lab, nerding it up with his robots for company. Apparently, he was working on some huge project. She hadn't really cared enough to pay attention.

Her father nodded, scrolling through channels on the television. "Yeah, your uncle Rhodey will be there too, but he'll be getting in Friday, so you can meet then."

"I— uh, I'll go to the party, actually. Might not be totally lame." She winced at the high pitch her voice had taken. She didn't miss the smirk on his face.

"Sure, you can bring Mr. Osborn with you. I'd love to meet your boyfriend properly."

"No." She cleared her throat. "I mean, he's not my boyfriend. And he's not really a party kind of guy. I'll go Friday after school, his apartment is closer anyway."

No way Tony is giving Harry the shovel talk. Not on my watch. The thought was especially weird, since she'd known her friend longer than she'd known her own father.