Slowly but surely

| One |

Having Tony Stark as your father was anything but ordinary. 

At just 19 years old, my life had been a whirlwind of chaos and excitement, marked by experiences that would make most people's heads spin: a kidnapping, a stalker, and bizarre encounters with some of the most eccentric fans imaginable.

My mom and I frequently found ourselves anxiously waiting for updates on my dad's safety, whether he was on a routine mission or battling a cosmic threat. 

Just recently, he had been in Sokovia, facing down a deranged robot intent on exterminating humanity with its own army of mechanical monstrosities. 

The thought of him out there, fighting the good fight, always left a knot of anxiety in my stomach. 

Yet, he had a knack for reassuring me, promising he would always come back safe.

So far, he had kept that promise every single time. And this latest return brought with it two new faces: the Maximoff twins.

I turned off the shower, savoring the last moments of warm steam before wrapping a towel around myself and stepping into the cooler air of my room. 

With a sense of purpose, I made my way to my closet, rifling through my clothes in search of the perfect outfit to greet our new guests.

After blow-drying my hair and applying a touch of mascara, I called out to FRIDAY, our ever-reliable AI. 

"FRIDAY, could you give me a quick rundown of our guests?" I asked, focusing on my reflection in the mirror.

"Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, orphaned twins who were exploited by Hydra. Wanda possesses telekinetic and mental manipulation abilities, while Pietro has superhuman speed," FRIDAY replied in its calm, informative tone.

"Okay, that's enough," I interrupted, cutting it off before it could delve deeper into their troubling history.

Standing before my mirror, I scrutinized my outfit. 

Would it make a good first impression? 

After a moment's contemplation, I shrugged and decided to stick with my choice, determined not to overthink it.

As I stepped out of my room, I walked down the corridor toward the communal areas of the compound. I had my own space here because my dad spent about 80% of his time at the facility, making it easier for me to be near him. 

Sometimes I wondered how my mom managed, coping with his frequent absences from home. But their relationship was solid—an unwavering bond forged through countless trials.

"Morning," I greeted as I entered the kitchen, where my dad and Natasha were engaged in conversation, the comforting scent of coffee wafting through the air.

"Morning, sweetheart," my dad replied, kissing the top of my head with that familiar warmth.

"Morning, little Stark," Natasha added, her smile as genuine as ever.

"So, where are the recruits?" I asked, glancing around the room. "I assumed you'd be giving them their first training session," I teased, directing my gaze at Natasha.

"I'm on my way down to see them now," she replied, rinsing her coffee mug in the sink with a practiced ease.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked, already sensing my dad's impending objection.

"Now, why do you think you need to do that?" he countered, raising an eyebrow in that classic Stark way.

"I just want to say hello and see what they look like," I responded, ready to present my case.