The Daughter of Tony Stark

Chapter 3

   "Daughter of Stark, what is this?" Thor asked curiously, walking into the kitchen to find the source of the beautiful smells of food. His eyes widened a little as he took in the countertops covered in plates stacked with pancakes, cinnamon rolls, french toast, and assortments of fruit. It had been about an hour since I started cooking, meaning the Avengers team was waking up.

"First of all, you can call me Isabel," I told him, and I couldn't help but smile at the gleeful look on his face. He was an Asgardian prince; this had to remind him of home in a sense."And second, I got really hungry this morning and decided just to help you and your friends out. Consider it a 'welcome gift' of sorts." My eyes scanned the counter, looking for the wicker basket of Pop Tarts my father had arranged as a joke. I leaned over and picked it up, pushing intoI didn't think the Asgardian had ever been surrounded by so much food. "Second, I got really hungry, so I made a huge breakfast." I handed Thor a basket full of pastries. "Knock yourself out, big guy."

"Are... are these...?" I nodded my head, trying to hold back my laughter at his expression.

"Pop Tarts. I didn't know what flavor you liked, so Da- um, Tony grabbed a few dozen flavors."

"How many are in here?" Thor questioned, pushing some aside. I had unwrapped most of them, a feat that left my wrists sore from tearing the packets.

"According to the boxes, one hundred and eighty-seven," I answered with a soft smile, trying to push him out the door as he reached for a plate of pancakes. "No, you're not eating in here! Just go to the dining room." I didn't have to repeat myself; Thor immediately left the room, mumbling to himself about being the luckiest Asgardian alive. Once he left the room, I let a few giggles out before looking back at all the plates waiting to be moved to the long table. "Hey, Jarvis?"

"How can I be of assistance, Miss Stark?" the AI asked me.

"Can we get Dad's Iron Legion up here to help me?" I requested, making sure I had nothing on the stove or in the oven during the process. "I can't do this by myself."

"Yes, Miss Stark."

"Also, alert the others that breakfast is being served except for Dad and Mr Banner; I'll bring something up for them later." In less than a minute, the robots were flying up to grab a plate and set them on the table in the next room. I knew my father would kill me if he knew I was using his created protectors as servants, but I wasn't going to risk stumbling and sending food on the floor. Making sure everything had been moved, I started to clean up the mess created by my cooking.

"You're not going to join us after all that hard work?" I yelped as Nat's voice startled me, causing my grip on one of the spare plates to slip. I quickly kicked my leg up, breathing shakily as I balanced the plate on instep of my foot. The assassin raised an eyebrow at my miraculous save, her arms crossed against her chest as she watched me. "Nice reflexes."

"Thanks," I sighed, bending over and picking the plate up. "No, probably not. I ate before starting this project, so I'm good." Even with my back turned, I could feel her eyes staring at me. "Plus, I kind of figured I'd need to give you guys some space. After all, we all just met yesterday."

"True," Natasha nodded, but the look on her face eluded to something otherwise. Clint Barton leaned out from the doorway, giving me a big dopey grin when he saw me.

"There she is, the star of the show," he exclaimed, moving over to the two of us with an empty plate in his hand. He gave Nat a glance, a little confused on her presence in the room. "And apparantly the star cook of this place." I blushed at his words. "Be proud, kiddo. Not all of us can rock an instrument and cook to the nines. Well, maybe me sometimes, but I don't think that really counts."