#touchmytech

It was Loki's first day at his new school. New school, new life, and a fresh start. He loved it. Of course, it was the same school his brother went to, so it wasn't totally fresh, but Loki had warned Thor about coming near him.

He'd gotta the keys to his new flat from the school earlier that morning and he was now heading into the little apartment. He knew it wasn't all that big, so he'd packed light. Just clothes and some essentials, enough to fill his car and not need his parents. He figured anything else he'd need, he could go out and buy.

Before Loki could even open the door, he heard the sound of crashing from the other side. He opened it quickly, only to see the biggest mess in history right in front of him. Machine parts and wires covered every surface and the floor had what looked suspiciously like oil stains all over it. A look of disgust washed over his face at the sight of it all. Obviously, his roommate moved in early and Loki was none too happy about it.

Clint sat in his small room of the shelter, back to the wall and wings mantled up on his shoulders.  He’d only been there for half a day and he’d made it very clear to the staff that he was not a social pet.  His previous owner was…less then kind to him.  As if the harsh ties around his wings weren’t a clear enough hint.

Winged pets themselves weren’t that uncommon.  What made Clint’s breed special was that they were capable of full flight for an extended period of time.  With lighter density bones and powerful wings they were considered masters of the sky.  However, it’d been months since Clint had even been able to spread his wings to their full length, about 12 feet.  They had gotten weak, not to mention the bindings on his wings had rubbed several places raw and he was missing some of his flight feathers.

[text] It's unfair how well you're aging.

Loki hadn't seen his husband in well over two weeks, and that just wasn't right. Granted, Tony had been away on business, but still. So upon waking from a nap to hear Jarvis tell him Tony was back and in his lab, Loki was exstatic. He had so many things to tell his love that he bounded down the stairs immediately. He saw Tony through the glass walls and chuckled, typing in his pin and opening the door.

[text] My toaster is talkin to me

[text] I am three martinis in, and my toastr is talkin shit about my toaster ovn.

[text] This is yur fault. Somehow.

[text] status update

[text] toastr does no understnd it cannot do pizza.

"Mr. Stark." Phil said by way of greeting, looking at Tony through the glass, eyes hazy. "This may seem insensitive but I always thought it’d be the other way around. Me visiting you."

He rubbed a hand over his face. “You know. They said this is for my own safety. And the safety of others. Turns out not everyone comes back without some damage to the wetware.”

He was silent for a long moment.

The bus doesn't have an x-ray machine.

But, they still have the 'x-ray glasses' from the earlier case, and when Phil suddenly staggers mid step and locks an arm over his chest defensively without any actual thought, it's clear something is wrong. Initial diagnosis pointed away from the classic heart attack or stroke ("Please stop saying 'at your age', Simmons.."), but his pain doesn't seem psychosomatic so they recalibrate the glasses and put the display on the big screen.

Which, Phil admits, is creepy as hell, standing with his arms held out as they calibrate the glasses in and he just tries to breathe. He's watching Fitz, not the screens, when he sees May suddenly shift and fold her arms. He'd turned his head and..

"I froze the image." Simmons said, staring at the big screen then circling the brilliant white spike floating in his chest. "What is that?"

He'd swallowed slowly, wondered how the surgeons missed it. "That's a shard of chitauri scepter, I believe."

More work with the glasses, him sitting down on the table edge now and trying to ignore the fact that May, Ward and Skye are all clustered looming on the other side of the table, gets pictures from multiple angles.

"The largest piece is nearly two centimeters long, but it's surrounded by smaller fragments, and they're all in dangerous proximity to your heart and lung." Simmons had the glasses on now, frowning studiously at his chest.

"So, what, are we returning to one of your guys' big fancy bases so he can get surgery?" Skye wanted to know. "That big piece is huge, that can be removed, right?"

"It can. The ones around it, well. I already know how this turns out." Phil replied, staring at his folded hands and exhaling. "Yes, we will be landing at one of SHIELD's bases. I know who I want to replace me." He waited through the sudden explosion of voices and put up a hand. "One of two things is going to happen. One, I go into surgery, it works, I end up with a long recovery and the reasonable chance they miss something and it shreds my heart later. Two, I just drop because that's happened. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next month." He wove a hand at the images on the screen.

"Three, you become Iron Man."

Everyone turned and looked at Skye. She stared back. "What? This is why he had a reactor in his chest right?"

Phil blinked, entirely caught off guard. "Actually, yes, but we don't have his technology and I doubt he's in the mood to do me a favor."

"Phil, if you end up dead because you can't break cover and ask the man for help I'll have Fury bring you back so I can kill you again." May still had her arms folded.

"His house in Malibu was never rebuilt. He's in New York." Skye got her phone out, tapping away.

"Do I get a say in this?" Phil wanted to know, and everyone looked at him. ".. New York it is."

Halfway around the world and the entire trip spent quietly at his laptop while everyone stares at him. He retreated to his office, only for them to check up on him at regular intervals. They even tried it when he retreats to sleep, but he jerked awake and pulled a gun when the cracked door spilled light across his bed.

Which is partly why he insists on walking into Stark Tower alone.