How do you like this :-
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Tony answers the phone smiling.
He hangs up pale.
Very pale.
He stands there for three full seconds before screaming into the void.
“WHY DID YOU TEACH PETER SWEARING?!”
Nat looks up from sharpening a knife. Shrugs. “Because Peter said he feels unsafe.”
Tony grabs the counter. “The school just told me my polite sunshine. My apology-letter-in-human-form. MY ‘SORRY-SIR’ kid—” he chokes, wounded “—OUT-SWORE FLASH with profanities that the principal had to google.”
Nat nods. “Good diction?”
“NOW I FEEL UNSAFE,” Tony yells.
Nat tilts her head. “While swearing, you focus on the target’s insecurities. It’s grounding.”
Tony goes very still.
Slowly turns.
“Oh,” he says softly. “You want grounding?”
Nat raises an eyebrow.
Tony inhales.
And then unleashes.
“You emotionally constipated assassin-shaped Russian nesting doll—”
Nat blinks once.
“—you trauma-powered murder fairy with the coping skills of a brick—”
Nat actually pauses.
“—you teach MY KID to weaponize vocabulary like he’s auditioning for Satan’s TED Talk—”
Nat’s mouth twitches.
“—I SPENT YEARS CURATING A POLITE, WELL-MANNERED, ‘EXCUSE-ME-SIR’ PRODIGY AND YOU TURNED HIM INTO A WALKING CENSORED TRANSCRIPT—”
Tony jabs a finger at her. “DO YOU KNOW HOW PROUD I WAS WHEN HE SAID ‘HECK’ INSTEAD OF ‘HELL’?”
Nat finally sets the knife down. “You’re projecting.”
Tony laughs hysterically. “I’M GRIEVING.”
A beat.
“…He used to say ‘oh no,’” Tony whispers. “Now he apparently said something about Flash’s bloodline.”
Nat nods, impressed. “Good instinct.”
Tony sinks into a chair, devastated. “My innocent child is dead.”
Nat pats his shoulder. “He feels safer.”
Tony looks up, haunted. “…At what cost.”
From Tony’s phone, a text buzzes.
PETER: sorry mr stark may i say frick again or is that too much
Tony clutches the phone to his chest.
“…I’m raising a monster,” he whispers.
Nat smiles. “A confident one.”
Tony sobs.
