Your next mission was in Australia and since you'd never been before, you were buzzing with excitement. You readied a suit with your chest piece intact just in case you ran into something like Morbius, and you strapped up plenty of weapons, anticipating a fight. But then you got some news that deflated you immensely. Apparently, all of Tony's suits were too identifiable in case you ran into the rest of the 'Roel' group that had been in the middle of being picked off, so you were stuck with a regular plane. You weren't a pilot. This was a terrible idea. But Happy assured you that you could still wear the arch reactor and it would be on auto pilot, so it was just to get you from point A to point B and back under the rouse of being an American private jet. Fine. Boring. But fine.
Kate wasn't thrilled about you going on another mission, she never was, but she had called up Clint to visit Jack and check up on him because you were planning to meet your old friend right after this quick mission. Peter was investigating the whole 'return of the Vulture' situation and everything else was perfectly in place. It felt good.
"Okay, strapped in." You smirked, radioing Happy who was acting as your point person since FRIDAY wouldn't be activated until you were suited up on the ground or in the air if you decided to jump out midflight for whatever reason.
"Good, now there's a red button right in front of you to the left that you," Your hand immediately hovered just an inch above the massive red button, "Don't touch."
"Oh," You pulled your hand back like you burned it, glaring at the shiny button like it offended you, "Well, that sucks."
"The red button is only for emergencies, like if the jet was going down."
"Mhm."
"What's that crunching noise? Are you – are you eating right now?"
"Haps, it's always Cheeto time, mmk?" You huffed with an eye roll because it was obvious, digging your already orange fingers back into the bag.
"Just pay attention, alright?"
"Oooh, this one looks like a slingshot – ugh, I miss her."
"Would you focus???" He yelled into your earpiece, and you flinched, knowing his neck or forehead vein be poppin' right about now.
"Hoagie, you're at an eleven right now," You raised the hand that wasn't holding the bag just above your head as if he could see you, "And I need you at about a three because I'm a teeny bit stoned right now."
"You smoked pot?" He asked flatly, a deep sigh following.
"Nah, I tripped over a little pebble on my way to the subway this morning and," You pouted, "My big toe is still in recovery, so be gentle."
"You're shitting me."
"Wow, language big man, the little ones are also nearby. Some decorum, please."
"Are you still...are you still talking about your feet?"
"...no?"
It took nearly twenty minutes and a pee break from yours truly, but he eventually succeeded in giving you the basic rundown of the controls and what to expect or monitor on your trip. He was overly cautious, but probably with reason.
"Okay, love you, Happiness!" You gushed at the end, and he grunted.
"Safe travels." He grumbled and you tilted your head, looking down at the red button like you were speaking to him.
"Say it back."
"No."
"Happiness Hotstuff Hogan, say you love me right now!" You demanded, crumpling up the empty chip bag and tossing it behind you.
