Chapter Text
Win Stark was having a lovely day. He had had a nice cuddle with his daddy and Bruce that morning. Uncle Rhodey had gotten good at normal breakfast. He then went to daycare, where he played with his friends and enjoyed story time, snack time and craft time. Then it started to be time for real class.
It was an English day, so he bid his friends goodbye and headed out to visit his friends in the labs and offices. He knew his friend Jasmine in legal was back from maternity leave. So he asked JARVIS to check in with her and see if he could visit her at some point to say hello. When people came back from parental leave, they always seemed very busy. He didn’t want to be a bother, but he hadn’t seen her in months and months, and he missed her. She had the loveliest laugh in the legal department. JARVIS said yes, but after three o’clock and before she left at five-thirty.
For now, he could go to the labs to see who might be doing an experiment that he could watch. But, as he approached the elevator, JARVIS said, “The tree trimmers came to the lobby today. Mr. Hernandez saw a very good stick and saved it for you.”
“A good stick? That’s great news.”
It took four different elevators to get to the lobby. Each time people greeted him, he chatted with people as he went, asking about their days. When he finally got to the lobby, he skipped to the main welcome desk. “Hi, Eduardo.”
“Hi, Win. How are you?”
“I’m good, how are you?”
“Can’t complain, having a pretty good day. Did JARVIS tell you the news?”
“That there was a good stick?”
“Yeah, a really good stick; I saved it for you.” He revealed it from behind the counter. It was long and straight and sturdy.
“Wow, that’s a great stick.”
The man grinned at him, “When you come back from the park you often bring a stick back, so I know you’re a man of taste.”
“Well, a good stick is fun. Are you sure you don’t want to keep it for Francisco?” asked Win. Francisco was a year younger than him and in Mr. Mark’s class. He was nice.
“Y’know, Francisco has never been a ‘good stick’ kinda kid. I don’t know why not because I always appreciated a good stick when I was your age.”
Win accepted the gift and said, “It can be a sword, or a lightsaber, or a walking stick, or a pointer, or you can use it to reach something high up, or sift through stuff, or it can be a spear, or a javelin, or you can hit your brothers with it, but then Daddy confiscates it.”
“Those are all great uses — except for hitting your brothers,” said Eduardo.
“This is a really nice stick, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Looking at the trees, Win said, “They’re getting big. What’s gonna happen when they get really big? ‘Cause today they came and pruned them to keep them healthy but they didn’t make them shorter. The ceiling only goes up seven floors; they’ll reach that eventually.”
“They are in massive pots under the floor. The roots are looked after under the floor and they are in pots specifically so the whole tree can be removed and replanted outside when it starts getting too big to be inside. They will go into nature and we’ll get new littler ones in here.”
“Can they fit through the doors?” asked Win, considering the wide stretch of the tree limbs.
“Your dad is an engineer and a genius in his own time. He’ll figure it out,” promised Eduardo. Win whipped his stick around, moving it fast enough to make a whistling noise — it was a good stick. “Where are you off to next?”
“I think, armed with this stick, I’m gonna go get myself an iced tea and then find out who is having a lab meeting. I love a good lab meeting. Hopefully one in R&D.”
“Sounds like a great day.”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be great: I have a stick. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, now go on. I’ve got stuff to do and you have a lab meeting to find.”
Win skipped back to the elevator with his stick. He pressed the button for the thirty-seventh floor. It was pretty high up, and instead of asking JARVIS to hit it as he usually would, he used his new, excellent stick. The thirty-seventh floor was home to his favorite coffee shop. Steve didn’t like it, but he did. They did a lot of fancy drinks and played really good music and had really colorful art on the walls. You could buy the art; people in the building had made it. It was nothing like Steve’s. It was called pop art, and Win liked it, and the Taylor Swift they often played while he waited in line. The line wasn’t too bad today. Shawn Mendes was playing on the speakers, so he was having a pretty good time while he waited his turn.
He got to the front and saw Angie was working the till. He smiled, “Hi, Angie, how are you?”
“I’m good. That’s a nice stick you’ve got there.”
“The tree surgeons came today, and Eduardo saw it and saved it for me. It’s a really good one, right?”
“Absolutely, do you want your usual, Win?”
“Yes, please,” he said.
“Okay move down to the end of the counter.”
“Thank you, Angie.”
“You’re welcome, Win.”
JARVIS would pay and add a tip for him. Melissa poured him an unsweetened hibiscus iced tea into a big thermos that read “Property of Stark Penthouse.” She leaned over the counter, and he stood on tiptoes to get it. “Here you go, sweetie.”
“Thank you, Melissa, have a nice day.”
He bounced back to the elevator and said, “Are there any good lab meetings?”
“It’s almost lunch time so most of the lab meetings have concluded for the morning.”
“I guess I am hungry. What’s Daddy doing?”
“He is in a private meeting with Mr. Parker, not to be disturbed. They are wrapping up in a few minutes and then he has a doctor’s appointment.”
Shaking his head, Win said, “That’s very disappointing. Who can I have lunch with?”
“Both your uncles are free. Uncle Happy is just wrapping up a meeting and needs a few minutes.”
“That’s excellent. Where would they like to meet? Penthouse? Cafeteria? Garden? They want to go out?”
“Your Uncle Happy has a meeting too soon for a lunch out and about. But the skies have cleared up and it’s a nice day so Uncle Rhodey suggests the roof.”
“Okay, playroom first, please, I want to change into a garden outfit,” he requested.
He made swaps between elevators, waving at people as he went. He tiptoed through their lab to get to the last elevator, not disturbing Daddy and Peter; they gave him a small wave but didn’t break off from their conversation. The conversation was about purchase orders and sounded boring. He finally arrived at his playroom, where he immediately went to the chest that held his activity clothes. He found his overalls and held up different pairs to the window; he wanted to match the color to the pale blue of the sky. He didn’t have an exact match, but he thought his lilac ones would be a good fit. Stripping out of his tutu, he said, “Do you know where my wellingtons are?”
“Upstairs, by the door, it was raining the other day and you played in the puddles.”
“That’s right.” He put on a straw hat.
“It’s a nice day. Wear your sneakers. You aren’t gardening and it’s easier to do handstands in sneakers.”
“Okay,” said Win, even as he rolled his eyes. It wouldn’t fit the look, but it might be more practical. He pulled his sneakers back on, picked up his drink, and stick and went to the elevator. It stopped at the next floor, and he thought maybe JARVIS had a virus until the door opened. “Hi, Uncle Rhodey.”
“Hey, buddy, looking good,” said Uncle Rhodey as he joined him.
“Thank you, you too. I got dressed for lunch.”
“What would you both like for lunch?” asked JARVIS.
“Can I have the salad with grilled chicken and raspberry vinaigrette, please?” said Win.
“Of course, and, Colonel?”
“I will have the salad with steak and lime vinaigrette, please,” said Rhodey. “Where’d you get the stick?”
“Eduardo at the front desk rescued it from the tree surgeons for me. Wasn’t that kind of him?”
“Very kind,” agreed Rhodey. “It’s a good one.”
The door opened to the roof. The day was sunny and warm. Win rushed out to do handstands in the garden, Uncle Rhodey following more sedately. He saw Uncle Happy at the picnic table and called, “Hi, Uncle Happy, Imma do handstands.”
“Okay, kiddo, see you in a minute.”
He put his stick and drink down and did handstands, cartwheels, and rolls. It was fun. His lilac overalls got dirty, but that was okay; that’s what washing machines were for. After a few minutes, Uncle Happy called, “Win, kiddo, food’s here.”
Win rushed back, stick and drink in hand. “Hi,” he said again.
“Hey, that’s a real nice stick,” said Uncle Happy.
“Isn’t it? It’s such a good toy. I’m gonna have so much fun until Daddy takes it away when I hit DUM-E with it.”
“Don’t hit DUM-E with it,” said Uncle Rhodey.
“No, I’m gonna,” said Win as he sat down at the table. “What did you order, Uncle Happy?”
“Same as you, cafeteria does good salads,” said Uncle Happy. “Whatcha drinking?”
“It’s like jamaica but unsweetened,” said Win. “Want some?”
“No thanks, where did you get jamaica?”
“The café on the thirty-seventh floor,” said Win.
“Is that the one with the pop music?” asked Uncle Rhodey.
“Yeah,” Win nodded, “that’s my favorite. I asked if they had jamaica and they said they would order it for me. And it’s not right, but it’s pretty good.”
“May I have a sip, please?” asked Uncle Rhodey.
“Yeah,” Win held out his tumbler.
Uncle Rhodey had a sip and said, “Kinda like jamaica, yeah.”
They had a nice lunch in the sunshine. Uncle Happy was in a suit, taking lunch between meetings. Win said, “How is your business day going, Uncle Happy?”
“People are idiots, Win, please grow up smart. It makes my day very long.”
“I’ll do my best,” promised Win. “Did you catch any bad guys stealing company secrets or too many office supplies?”
“No, just morons with the shittiest, weak-ass passwords in the world endangering company secrets because their password is abcd1234. I swear to God I’m lobbying to bring back the guillotine.”
“I don’t think they let you behead stupid people,” said Win.
“I’ll put that in as part of my petition. It’s gonna be a very specific petition about how C-suite execs and department heads aren’t allowed to have the world’s worst passwords or put them on fucking Post-its on their monitors. It merits instant death.”
“Oh no, what idiots,” Win commiserated. “Would you like to order dessert? Would you feel better?”
“No thank you. Worst part is, if I hadn’t come here, I wouldn’t even know about the Post-its. LA Headquarters doesn’t have this problem. It makes me think I need to do a sweep of all our offices globally. So, my meeting this afternoon is talking to my deputes to ask them to sweep their buildings and count Post-its. I want to know how bad is. How many Post-its are floating around out there?”
They talked some more about people Uncle Happy had to shout at, and then JARVIS regretfully told him he had to go back to the good fight. Uncle Happy left after kissing him on the head and thanking him for the lunch invite.
“So, Win, whatcha got going on this afternoon?” asked Rhodey.
“Well, my picture for our friend is finally done, dry and framed. So if he’s not busy, I’m gonna visit him. And I want to visit legal because Jasmine is back from maternity leave. You’re not allowed to visit the babies in daycare unless you’re with a grown up, so I haven’t seen her baby and I bet it’s really cute, so I’m go see her and see if she has pictures. And maybe, later, if you like, Nanny said she thought she was going to be busy with the UN today at teatime, so maybe we could go to Win’s Place for a snack at four-ish?”
Win’s Place was a very fancy restaurant. You had to wear nice clothes, and the waitstaff all wore very sharp suits. Everything was delicious. It had three stars from the people who made tires and everything. There was a corner booth reserved for Win — because it was his place.
“I would love to go to Win’s Place, that sounds really fun. Appetizers?”
Win nodded, “A snack instead of tea with Nanny. JARVIS, what’s Daddy up to? Is he still talking to his doctor?”
“No, his appointment has ended. Sir and the Avengers are currently practicing with Rescue Iron Suits, like your anklet. If anything happens to them, they have bracelets that will turn into suits to protect them. They are trying to learn how to operate them.”
“I never learned how to operate mine,” said Win.
“Yours is designed for you. I would control all of it for you. It would be like a super charged Win Carrier. Theirs are a bit more pared down and they have some control,” explained JARVIS.
“Are they doing well?” asked Win.
There was a beat before JARVIS said, “They’re all learning just how much core strength and dexterity your father has. Everyone has fallen over several times and they are all — bar Captain Rogers — complaining about sore abdomens. I believe they were under the impression that the suit did all the work. The suit is just clothing; Sir is Iron Man.”
“That sounds hilarious,” said Win.
“It’s amusing, also, slightly offensive. Your aunts and Doc are obviously unsurprised but everyone else being suddenly more impressed with Sir is… rude.”
Uncle Rhodey chuckled, “I’m sure they don’t dismiss Tony, J, they just didn’t realize because he surfs and boxes instead of doing all of the weightlifting and martial arts and stuff they do. Everyone know your dad is the best they just didn’t realize that in addition to being the smartest and the most even keeled he also has abs of granite under a layer of healthy fat.”
“Sir is the best,” said JARVIS.
“Of all of us,” agreed Uncle Rhodey. “Want to go watch people fall over before visiting our friend?”
“That sounds really fun,” agreed Win.
They went down together, Win was still in his garden outfit, but he could change after. He brought his stick to show everyone. In the gym, he saw the whole gang doing their very best. Their best wasn’t very good. It was… well, they were trying. They looked like people in robot Halloween costumes. Aunt Share was doing well, her real suit already had repulsors built-in, so that made sense, but everyone else was clunking about.
“JARVIS, you gotta get Peter, they look like robot Power Rangers, he’ll love it,” said Win.
Everyone’s suits were decorated differently. You could see at a glance who was who from the colors and patterns on them; there was no guessing. Instead of a Pink Ranger, there was a Black Widow Ranger with a red hourglass on her. Instead of a Black Ranger, there was a Silver and Red Falcon Ranger. Friend’s was blue and brown. And Steve was so garish he wondered if Daddy was doing it as a prank. There was high fashion, and then there was… a bit much. That was a lot of red, white and blue right there. Bruce’s green and purple suit was pretty, Clint’s purple and black one was fun, but Steve’s colors were…
“Steve,” he called, “are you really sold on those colors?”
Steve laughed, “I’m Captain America.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “no one’s going to be confused about that.”
Steve laughed again.
Peter came and joined him and Rhodey and just blinked, then he called out, “Can you guys morph into the Megazord?”
“Don’t give Tones any ideas,” said Aunt Share.
“I’m right, right?” Win asked Peter.
“So right,” agreed Peter.
“Do you think Steve’s suit is a bit garish?”
“Forget gar-ish, I’d say it’s full-on gare,” Peter replied.
“I can hear you,” said Steve.
“It’s a bit much,” said Win, “for everyday use.”
“Battles aren’t everyday use,” Steve replied. “Hopefully I never use this, ever.”
Then Clint fell over, and Win dissolved into laughter. “Okay, peanut gallery out,” Daddy ordered.
“But, Daddy, I didn’t even get to show you my stick,” he protested.
Daddy’s suit melted off his body, and he walked to Win, “Wow, that is an excellent one. Did you and Uncle Rhodey go to the park?”
“No, the tree surgeons came and Eduardo at the desk rescued it for me when he saw it.”
“That was very kind of him; you should make him a thank you card,” suggested Daddy. It was a good idea. “Can I take a look?” he asked, holding out his hand.
He nodded, handing it over. “He says you can get the trees out when they get too big. How?”
“The bank of twelve doors at the front of your tower is removable. We’ll get them out alive and replant them upstate. They’ll grow up big and strong,” Daddy promised as he tested how bendy it was and examined just how straight it was and gave it a few experimental whips. “Good stick. Please don’t hit your brothers with it.”
“I’m probably gonna,” he said.
“I’m gonna take it away if you do,” Daddy replied, even as he handed it back.
“I know; but it will be fun until then. I’m gonna go get the gift ready and visit friend, if he’s up for a visitor. Friend, do you want a visitor when you’re done with this?”
“Sure, Win,” said the man.
“Okay, don’t bug him,” said Daddy, giving him a hug,
“Promise,” said Win. “Does anyone want to come for an afternoon snack at Win’s Place with me and Uncle Rhodey at four o’clock? Nanny can’t do tea today so we’re gonna go.”
No one else could. Everyone had appointments and work. That was very disappointing for them; Win’s Place was delicious. They bid goodbye to Peter at the elevator; he said he would wait for it to come back down as Win needed to go upstairs to change his clothes and Uncle Rhodey needed to sort some laundry. The laundry robots weren’t good at separating colors; it was a job for a human. Usually, Daddy did it, but Daddy wasn’t doing anything like that right now.
In his playroom, Win redressed in pink leggings, a pink tutu, a purple shirt, combat boots and a tiara. A tiara was suitable for visiting people, especially when giving them a gift. He had four mirrors in one corner of the playroom that were arranged to let him see his outfit from every angle. He examined the outfit and nodded. He left his stick in the playroom for later; he would come get it when he was ready.
He went to the elevator and hit the lab button. “Let’s go see the triplets, J.”
The door opened to the lab, and he said, “Hello.” U zoomed over, and he reached up to hoist himself up so he could swing to be on top of him. “Hi, U. How are you today?” U bobbed a bit, and Win had to hold on to not fall off. “Good.” Butterfingers came over and leaned over him, making it so that Win could use him as a climbing frame. Butterfingers twirled, making Win shriek with laughter. DUM-E came over and dipped under him, and Win let go for Butterfingers, so he fell onto DUM-E. “Fun.” He slid off DUM-E.
Looking at them, he said, “I need to bring my painting to our friend. It’s too big for you three to help. And you don’t like that floor anyway. I need stupid but adroit robots.”
Two robots with long padded claws trundled into the lab. “I can control these, Master Win. I promise they won’t harm your painting. Our friend is expecting your visit.”
“Excellent.” He looked at the picture; it was kittens eating ice cream at the Santa Monica pier. Some were on the Ferris wheel, some were on the swinging pirate ship, and some were in the bumper cars. The rest were walking and just having a wonderful day. He loved the Santa Monica pier. He couldn’t wait to be tall enough for the roller coaster. Daddy had had the painting framed in a beautiful gold frame that JARVIS had said was ostentatious, but Daddy had hushed him and said it befitted the art. “This is a beautiful painting. I’m very proud of it.”
“It’s lovely, Master Win, you should be proud. You did an excellent job,” said JARVIS. Then he added, “The frame is hideous.”
“No it’s not. Where’s Daddy? He’ll tell you.”
“He is now in his seldom used office interviewing therapists.”
“Did he fire his doctor? He loves his doctor. He’s known her longer than he’s known me.”
“He’s interviewing them for me. Operation FML is wearing for me too.”
“Do you want to talk to me about your feelings?” asked Win.
“No thank you; I’d like a doctor.”
“Okay, but if you do,” Win started.
JARVIS cut him off, “Thank you. Go visit our friend.”
“Okay, I love you.”
“I love you too,” said JARVIS.
Win went to the elevator with the robots following him. The door opened on the right floor, and Win called, “Hello, friend, I brought you a gift.” The man came, and Win said, “Ta-da.” He did big presentation arms at the painting. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” said the man.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it,” said the man. “Is that the Santa Monica Pier?”
“Yeah, have you been there?”
“Once, in the seventies… maybe you and I could go sometime hand have a nicer day. I remember it was beautiful and sunny. The kittens look like they’re havin’ a rip-snorting time. I didn’t… I didn’t have a nice day there. I like this painting because I like seeing the kittens have fun and knowing that you like it there.”
“It’s really fun. I’m not tall enough for the rollercoaster.”
“Let’s wait until you’re tall enough for the rollercoaster.”
“Daddy says it probably won’t happen until I’m at least seven and a half so I shouldn’t hold my breath. It’s the same height for the Indiana Jones ride.”
“Y’know, waiting a couple of years for me to be ready doesn’t sound so bad. I bet, if you were my tour guide, I’d have a real nice day. I love my painting. When Steve and I have our house it’s gonna go over our kitchen table just like Steve’s one is here so that there’s a link between our two homes and I’ll see it every single day as we make our meals.”
“You really like?”
“I really do. In fact,” he took the painting away from the robots, “follow me.”
He had two arms. His normal one a the gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous Doodle Arm. Daddy had told him not to ask to draw on it. Their friend would tell him if he wanted Win to draw on it. He might be too embarrassed to say no if Win asked. The man had spent many years not being allowed to own his own body, and he had to relearn that no one was allowed to touch him without his permission. So, Win wasn’t allowed to ask; he had to wait to be invited. He was itching for a pen.
As they walked, Win looked at the arm and said, “Is that Florence and Cleo?”
“Yes, Steve drew them in one of his favorite old designs. It’s real pretty, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, I like it.”
The man took the painting Win had made Steve off the wall above the kitchen table and replaced it with his new one. “Steve is gonna have to find a home for his painting until our house is built because I want to have this in pride of place.”
Win grinned, “I still gotta paint one for Sam. I haven’t had time since he moved in because we were making Daddy’s lamp and then I was doing yours. But I’m gonna do his next because his birthday is coming up. You were just very sad when you came, and you needed a present.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“Where is Florence?”
“Well, she heard you, so I think she’s under the couch.”
Win sighed, “She doesn’t like me.”
“I think she likes you just fine, kiddo, she’s just a little intimidated by how friendly you are. I never try to touch her so she comes to me.”
“I really want her to be my friend.”
The man nodded at him. “Why don’t you and I have a glass of sparkling water and you can draw on my new arm and we’ll see if maybe she’ll come out when you aren’t trying.”
“I won’t draw on you if you don’t want. It’s your arm.”
“I don’t mind. Just draw on the blank bits. I want to keep Steve’s drawing. I love it. It’s a drawing that he sketched since he was seventeen and I want it there but there’s a stretch on my inner arm you can play with.”
“Okey-doke arty-choke.”
The man got them both a glass of water, pens and a pack of kitten treats. He put the drinks and pens down. Then he shook the kitten treats and scattered some of them on the kitchen table. “Now we just have to be not too loud. We’ve bated her. She heard that; it’s only a matter of being patient.” He sat down and held his arm out, pointing to the blank space, “Don’t press too hard: I have nerves.”
He started to draw a turtle surfing in the ocean. There was a lot of space, so he added an extra turtle next to him, racing for a wave.
“Are they skateboarding?”
“Surfing, they’d have helmets if they were surfing. Does it not look like a wave?”
The man started to demur, and Win could tell he was gonna lie, so he began to add lines and bubbles in the waves and little splashes off the top of it. “It’s obvious now,” said the man.
“Good.”
He was working on the turtles’ shells when Florence jumped onto the table. He gasped, and the man said, “Don’t stop drawing. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.” He added a sun in the sky and sunglasses to one of the turtles. He added fish swimming next to them and an octopus under the water. Florence came and headbutted him. He gasped again. “Slowly put your hand at her head level,” said the man. Win did as told, and after a few moments, she bumped into his hand and let him stroke her. “There you go. See? When you don’t crowd her, she says hello.”
“Hello, Florence,” he whispered. “You’re very pretty and soft.”
“Yeah, she is.”
Win kept gently, slowly stroking her and said, “Friend?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re allowed to say no, you should say no if you wanna, but I was thinking about your problem with music. It’s very sad that you don’t have any new music to enjoy. It’s good that you like your old music. But you should have lots of music to listen to. Because music is just the best. So, JARVIS and I were thinking — well, me, I was thinking, if you don’t like the idea blame me, not JARVIS — that we could talk about your favorite songs and why you like them. And then maybe we can use that information to find you new music. What do you think?”
“JARVIS, don’t play any songs without discussing them first,” said the man.
“We don’t have to do this at all, friend,” said JARVIS.
“Yeah, it’s your call,” said Win. “It’s supposed to be fun.”
“Maybe it’ll be fun. I do like dancing.”
He told them what songs he liked and why and Win listened. But, really, Win didn’t need to hear or understand as much as JARVIS. JARVIS was running an algorithm and comparing what the man was saying to patterns in music.
The man liked that old songs told stories and had romance without obscenity. “It’s such a shame that in modern music most of the songs that have a full narrative story are country,” said JARVIS.
“No,” said the man firmly.
“I know,” agreed JARVIS. “But, perhaps a good place to start would be Michael Bublé. He had a very strange path to fame in that, at a very young age, it became his ambition to get famous singing the great American song book. He has written some great pop songs. But, above all, he’s a crooner. Mack the Knife, Dream a Little Dream, I’ve Got You Under My Skin, The Way You Look Tonight, I’ve Got the World on a String, Try a Little Tenderness — he’s done them all. He’s done many of the classics that came out in the ‘50s and ‘60s that you don’t remember but might like, especially if you’ve grown fond of his voice because of his versions of songs you already enjoy. I can show you a list of his hits that are songs you already know.”
“Sure,” he agreed. A long list of songs appeared, and he said, “Someone is still singing My Melancholy Baby? Jesus, that was old when I was young. My dad used to sing that to my mom. I bet he made it a rock song, didn’t he?”
“No, it’s probably not much different than when your father was singing it.”
“Okay play it, but be ready to cut it off.”
JARVIS played it. It was pretty, not as good as Michael Bublé’s pop music, but the man was smiling. It wasn’t about what Win liked; it was about finding music for the man. The idea of a life with a limited amount of music was just too sad to think about.
As it finished, the man said, “What a nice voice. Let’s do Dream a Little Dream.”
They listened to nine of his ancient songs. Win finished his drawing and said, “What about his Christmas album? He has lots of very good Christmas songs. I like his version of It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.”
“Sure, let’s hear that, JARVIS,” said the man.
It played, and Win said, “Awesome, what about Cold December Night?”
“Well, that’s a new song, Master Win. That was written by Michael Bublé and Alan Chang,” replied JARVIS. He didn’t play it.
The man sighed. “In for a penny. Let’s try it, please.” The pretty song played, and the man didn’t seem upset or like he didn’t like it. When it finished, he said, “That was pretty. Does he have other new songs?”
“Yes, but, friend, I was going to use his songs from the ‘50s, ‘60s and ‘70s as a bridge,” explained JARVIS.
“We can go back,” the man assured him.
“But it is meant to ease you, it is going to throw off the rhythm.”
The man smiled, “Okay, what’s next?” Florence jumped off the table, and Win wanted to chase after her, but the man shook his head, “Let her go; she’ll come again when she wants to.”
They listened to songs from the later ‘40s and ‘50s sung by Michael Bublé. Win bopped along; Michael did have a pretty voice, even if it wasn’t his style of music. The man seemed to like them, sometimes asking JARVIS to repeat a song just after it finished.
They had just listened to a song made famous by someone called Johnny Mercer when JARVIS said, “Master Win, it’s time for you to go change for your restaurant date with your Uncle Rhodey. Your Aunt Pepper will be joining you as well.”
“Yay, that’s great. Friend, would you like to come? The restaurant is in the building. But you do have to put on a shirt and tie or something fancy like that. I’m gonna wear an ascot and saddle shoes.”
The man smiled, “Thank you for the invite. I’m gonna stay here and listen to the nice music and look at my beautiful picture. Thank you for my gift: it’s gorgeous.”
“You’re very welcome. Have a good day.”
He went back to the elevator. And went to the penthouse, to his bedroom, not the playroom. Win’s Place required a real outfit, not dress-up. He went into his lovely large closet, a room in and of itself. It was decorated in pale pinks and blues in honor of Princess Aurora because she was the most famous fashion icon of all time with her color-changing dress. It had a dresser, a desk and a couch for resting if picking an outfit was stressful. He swapped his leggings for nice black tights and checked the mirror to make sure there were any runs in them. Daddy had made sure he had mirrors set up to give him a full view of his outfit, like in the playroom. Outfits were essential for his everyday life as well as playing.
He traded his pink tutu for an emerald green one that was less floaty and had a bit of structure — a more formal tutu for a more formal setting. It wasn’t for playing because it didn’t bounce; it looked very nice. Then he changed his purple t-shirt for a white button-down with French cuffs. He tucked the shirt under the tutu after doing up the buttons. He went to his drawers, pulled out his drawer of ties, jewelry and cufflinks and selected his real, lab-grown emerald cufflinks and his emerald ascot and tied it quickly. Then he crossed the room to his shoes. They were on a large rotating rack. “My emerald saddle shoes, please, J.” The rack rotated until they were at the front, and he could grab them. He put them on and tied the laces. He returned to the mirror and sighed, “This is too green. I look like I’m wearing a costume instead of being classy. I need my dressy black tutu; it’ll make the green pop.”
“Good idea,” agreed JARVIS.
He swapped the skirt and went back to the mirror. He straightened his curls that were a bit of a mess from where he had had his play tiara and said, “Yes, this is the look for a nice restaurant… I should have painted my nails.”
“Nonsense. Pale pink nails go with any outfit. They’re perfect. Now run along; you’re Uncle Rhodey has been very patiently waiting.”
Win rushed out to meet him and found Uncle Rhodey in the kitchen. “Sorry, Uncle Rhodey. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
“I’m used to waiting for my dates. And they usually don’t look as pretty as you.”
“I had to change my outfit because the first tutu wasn’t working.”
“Ah,” said Uncle Rhodey, “I’ve heard that line from a million dates too: the outfit needed a last-minute tweak. Well, it was worth it. You look handsome and cute and beautiful.”
Uncle Rhodey was in a suit and tie, and Win smiled, “You clean up nice yourself.”
Uncle Rhodey laughed, “Thank you.” He held out a hand, and Win took it. He skipped next to him as they went to the elevator.
“I have informed your Aunt Pepper you are on your way,” said JARVIS.
They traveled down to the correct floor, waving at Peter as they walked through the lab. When they got to the restaurant, people were waiting, but Win went by them. This was the one place he didn’t have to wait in line because he knew where he was going. A woman said, “There’s a line, sweetie.” Her tone was condescending and rude.
He shook his head and said, “My name is on the awning,” he pointed. Even though they were inside, there was a cute awing over the door. “And I have a reserved booth. I don’t need to check in because I know where I’m going.” Going to the front, he saw Donna staffing the desk and said, “Hello, Donna.”
“Hi, Win, JARVIS said you’re just here for a snack.”
“Yep, Uncle Rhodey, Aunt Pepper and me.”
She handed him three menus and said, “I’ll let the servers know.”
“Thank you.”
If Daddy was there, someone would walk them to the table. But, they always let Win walk himself. He preferred it that way. He went to his booth and slid in. It had a great view of the whole restaurant and the skyline. “This is nice,” he said. “Good to get out into the real world.”
“We’re still in the building,” Uncle Rhodey reminded him.
“Yes, but we had to put on nice clothes and we’ll use good manners.”
Marco stopped at the table, putting down a basket of bread. They had the best focaccia in the world. “Hello, Win, Colonel Rhodes. It’s a pleasure to see you.”
“Hi, Marco.”
“I understand you’re waiting for Ms. Potts but may I get you drinks while you wait?”
“May I please have a citron pressé? I promise I’ll let Uncle Rhodey pour the water so I don’t spill it everywhere.”
“Thank you,” said Marco. “And for you, Colonel?”
“A citron pressé would be great, thanks.”
Marco left to get drinks, and Carl passed with a tray to pick up empty plates. “Carl,” Win called, and the man smiled and came over.
“Hey, Win, Colonel.”
“How is the bar going?” asked Win.
“Ugh,” replied the man.
“Moonlighting or trying to set one up?” asked Uncle Rhodey.
“No,” Carl shook his head, “studying for the New York state bar. I’m currently in law school. I’ll actually start working in the SI legal department next semester, then I’ll take the bar, then I’ll pray I pass it. It seemed like such a good idea at the time.”
“It’s a great idea, none of the lawyers in legal like me, only the paralegals. I need to know there’s someone on my side if I get arrested.”
“As your lawyer, my first piece of advice is to not break the law.”
“See? You’re already really good at it,” Win enthused.
“Thank you, kiddo. I better get back to this job for the moment,” said Carl.
“Bye, Carl,” said Win. He reached into the breadbasket to get focaccia. Glancing at the menu, he said, “I’m gonna have the beef satay. They are so good.” The menu wasn’t really ala carte; it was supposed to be a tasting menu. You were supposed to pick how many courses you wanted and then go from there. But they were just there for a snack. And it was okay; the staff knew him; they had a system. Instead of a dinkey tasting serving, they made him real-sized plates. They were here for appetizers.
Aunt Pepper came across the dining room in a pretty cream skirt suit. Her hair was in a nice twist. Many people had gotten very dressed up and fancy to come to Win’s Place. Aunt Pepper was in her office clothes, and she looked better than everyone else there… other than Win. He’d nailed his look. She slid into the booth next to him. “Hey, sweetheart, thank you for the invite.”
“You’re welcome. It’s a nice change of pace,” he said.
“It is,” she agreed.
Marco brought their drinks and said, “Hello, Ms. Potts.”
“Hi, Marco, how are you?”
“I’m great. How are you?”
“Wonderful, thank you.”
“May I get you something to drink?”
Looking at the citron pressés, she said, “I’ll have the same as the boys, please.”
Win handed her a menu as Uncle Rhodey poured some water and said, “Do your lemon and sugar and I’ll top you up.”
“Okay,” agreed Win, making his own lemonade. It was fun. The name made it sound fancy, but really it was just lemonade you got to be in charge of. “Aunt Pepper, it was so funny, the Avengers were trying to walk around in Iron Man armor, and they were terrible. Clint fell over. It was hilarious.”
“It was amazing, Pep,” said Rhodey. “Tony kicked us out for laughing at them with Peter.”
“That sounds fun,” said Pepper.
“How is your day going? Has Uncle Happy made his petition to bring back the guillotine real yet?”
“I have almost talked him off that ledge,” she said. “Although some heads are going to roll.”
“That sounds rough. Do you want a glass of rosé?” asked Win as Marco returned with her drink. He paused, having obviously heard Win’s suggestion.
“No, I’m fine, drinking is not going to help,” she laughed.
“Do you need a few more moments with the menu?” asked Marco.
“I know what I want,” said Aunt Pepper. “Are you boys ready?” Win nodded enthusiastically, and Uncle Rhodey nodded too.
“Great, Ms. Potts, what would you like?”
“I’m sure Win already said we’d like to do appetizer sizes, right?” she asked.
“JARVIS actually let us know, when he made the reservation,” Marco assured her.
“Great. I would like the duck pâté, please.”
“Excellent, Colonel?”
“I’ll have the crab cakes, please.”
“My absolute favorite. And, Win, what are you having?”
“May I please have the beef satays but instead of the teriyaki dipping sauce would it be okay if I had the red wine sauce from the porterhouse? ‘Cause that’s the best sauce in the world.”
“We can absolutely do that,” agreed Marco.
“Thank you,” Win handed him his menu.
“I will put that order in. It should be just a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Marco,” said Uncle Rhodey.
Aunt Pepper sighed, “I needed a break.”
“Because of the guillotine?” asked Uncle Rhodey.
“No, that’s Happy’s war. I’m fighting my own with patent infringement.” She shook her head, “But I’m on break. Win, what have you done today?”
He regaled her with tales of his day, from his stick and tea all the way to their friend liking the painting and Michael Bublé and Florence coming out of hiding.
Nodding, she said, “It’s a charming painting. And, he’s not used to getting gifts. I’m sure he appreciated it. I’m not surprised he liked Michael Bublé; he sings so many songs our friend knows already.”
Uncle Rhodey told them about taking a nice long walk around Central Park in the morning while Win was in school. It sounded very relaxing and pleasant. Win got distracted by another table. A woman, the same one who had been rude to Win outside, started making a fuss about something to Ashley. Whatever she said was very mean. Ashley was clearly trying her very best to fix it. But, he could tell Ashley was upset. Ashley never got flustered. Not even when he and Daddy rocked up late with a big crowd and wanted to do a full ten-course tasting menu. Ashley was great and unflappable. Clearly, the lady was being really, really horrible. Ashley took the woman and the man she was with’s plates. There was still food on it. That was silly. The tasting portions were usually only a few mouthfuls.
“Ashley,” Win called as she passed. She stopped. Of course she stopped; he owned the place. He was the only one everyone would stop for. “What’s happening there?”
“It’s… nothing,” she shook her head and seemed to try to gather herself.
“No it’s not, what’s happening? Please tell me.”
She glanced back and said, “They are two courses into ten. Everything has been wrong so far: wine, food, even the cutlery and… some people like to say it’s all wrong so that at the end they can fight the bill. It is going to be a very long meal.”
He glanced at Aunt Pepper, and she gave him a slight nod. “No, it isn’t. They’re leaving now.”
“Win,” Ashley started.
“No one gets to be mean to my friends,” said Win. “My name is on the awning.”
“He literally owns the place. His father has been training him to potentially be a CEO since he could talk and he just witnessed a customer being unkind to an employee in a restaurant named after him,” Pepper reminded her. She stood so that Win could get out of the booth.
“I need you to stand behind me because people don’t take me seriously because I’m not six yet,” he said.
“Okay,” agreed Aunt Pepper.
Win went over to the table. He kept his voice down. You didn’t talk loudly in a place like Win’s place. It was a fancy restaurant. People paid a lot of money; they didn’t want to witness a scene. “Excuse me,” he said. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“Excuse me?” said the man.
“When you go to a restaurant you have to be nice to the person who serves you. That’s the rule. You’re not being nice to Ashley. So you need to leave. I own this restaurant. You need to leave. And you aren’t allowed to ever come back.”
“Okay, kid,” said the man.
“Sir,” said Pepper, cutting him off. “You’re talking to Win Stark, in Win’s Place. It’s time for you to leave. He won’t allow you to harass his employees.”
Aunt Pepper had a calm, smooth voice when she was angry in business. It didn’t rise, but you knew she could kill you with one of her Louboutin’s. It was a melodious tone Win hoped he would have one day if he ever had to do business. Maybe she could teach it to him. The man and woman looked scared and left very quickly. Win skipped back to the table. Ashley had gone, probably back into the kitchen.
“Sorry, Uncle Rhodey, you were saying you saw a duck steal a soft pretzel?”
“Right out of this woman’s hand,” agreed Uncle Rhodey.
Marco came with their food. As he was putting it down, he asked if there was anything else they needed. “Um, I just kicked some people out for being very rude to Ashley. I doubt they paid. Can you add whatever they should have to my bill, please?”
“That’s not necessary,” said Marco.
“No, I think it is, I don’t want anyone else paying for it,” said Win, smiling easily. He didn’t want Ashley to get in any trouble.
“I’ll check policy; if anyone has to pay, I’ll add it to your bill,” Marco agreed.
“Okey-doke, sounds good,” agreed Win. “This looks amazing. Thank you.”
They started to eat and share bites. Everything was delicious. Aunt Pepper said, “I like the combination of the red wine sauce with the skewers.”
“I like the red wine sauce with anything,” said Win. “I’d like a bathtub full of it with focaccia.”
It was just a couple of minutes later when Marco came back and said there was no need for anyone to pay for the rude people and asked if they would like more bread as Win was mopping up the last of his sauce with focaccia. Win said, “Yes, please,” as Uncle Rhodey said, “No, thank you.”
Then Uncle Rhodey said, “Win, bud, this was to replace teatime with Nanny. Dinner will be in three and a half hours. I’m making my momma’s meatloaf.”
“Momma Rhodes’ meatloaf is delicious. I suppose I shouldn’t eat any more bread. Thank you, Marco.”
“Y’know, I don’t know how well focaccia or corn bread go with meatloaf, but we could send it up at dinner time, if you like?” the man offered.
“Yeah?” asked Rhodey. “That’s actually a great idea. ‘Cause I am running out of ideas for sides and I am not half the cook Tony is.”
“Absolutely, just let JARVIS know when you would like it and we can send it up with one of your robots.”
“Wow, excellent suggestion, Marco,” Win agreed.
“I’ll leave you alone for the moment and bring you your bill in a little bit,” said Marco.
Win asked Uncle Rhodey to refill his glass so he could have another drink, and Uncle Rhodey did. Aunt Pepper finished her meal and said, “Well, I really hate to dine and dash.”
“You gotta love us and leave us?” asked Rhodey.
“Sadly, I do, such is the life of the CEO,” she agreed. “Thank you for having me, Win.”
“Thank you for coming and helping me throw out those horrible people. I hope the rest of your day is less stressful.”
“Well, after that lovely meal I have the energy to fight with anyone about our patents.” She kissed the top of his head before leaving the booth.
Carl came over to take her plates and said, “I hope Ms. Potts enjoyed everything?”
“Yeah, she just had to rush off and shout about patents,” said Win.
“Oh no, that’s my area of the law,” he replied.
“You studied patents?” Win asked, feeling concerned for his future safety. “Carl, how you going to be my lawyer if you only know patents?”
“Don’t worry, Win. I don’t think you’re ever going to do something serious enough to need more than the coverage of a patent lawyer,” he whisked all of their empty plates away as Marco came back with the leather folder with the bill.
Instead of a line for a credit card, it just said “Penthouse.” The total was a hundred and sixty dollars. That seemed fair for such a fancy place with such lovely food, and wonderful service and a beautiful view.
His daddy had taught him how to tip. His daddy said normal people tipped twenty percent. If someone tipped less than twenty percent, they were not a good person. Then he has said, “You are a Stark. You follow different rules. Here’s the formula for a base tip. You double it and add a zero. If that won’t make the total break two hundred dollars just round the whole thing up to two hundred dollars. You never pay less than two hundred dollars. If there is a tip jar, pay your bill and then put two hundred in the tip jar. It’s easy.”
He had asked his dad why they didn’t just pay a million dollars. They were Starks, and they didn’t go to restaurants that often. His dad had told him the story of Mansa Musa, who spent so much money in Cairo in such a short amount of time that he actually destroyed the economy. His dad said, “You will tip so well you will turn someone’s day around. You will run a thousand philanthropic endeavors. You will work to change the world. But throwing a million dollars at every tab is not the way to do it.”
He wrote in a tip of three thousand two hundred dollars, wrote the total as three thousand three hundred and sixty and signed it neatly at the bottom. He handed it back and said, “Thank you, Marco, this was lovely. Three Michelin Stars as always.”
“We always love having you, Win, you’re such a pleasure. Also, I really like your outfit today.”
“Thank you, I haven’t had an excuse to wear these cufflinks. They’re real lab-made emeralds. They’re just like normal emeralds but no one died trying to get them out of the ground and the water wasn’t poisoned trying to mine them.”
Marco nodded, “Huge perk.”
“Yeah, science is amazing. Daddy gave them to me for Valentine’s Day. And, at first, I was very stressed out because sometimes I lose my jewelry and emeralds are very, very fancy but he said when they come from a lab they’re not very expensive so I should take care of them but I don’t have to be scared or keep them in a drawer.”
“Another huge perk. Colonel, it was a pleasure.”
“You too, Marco,” Uncle Rhodey smiled at him as the man left. He and Uncle Rhodey drank their fancy lemonade, and Uncle Rhodey said, “So, what are you up to next?”
“Well, I still haven’t seen Jasmine yet and then I’m eager to see her; if it’s not five thirty when we’re finished, I’ll go say hello. Then I’m free as a bird. Why? Y’wanna do something?”
“Well, I’d love help with dinner, but what about Lila? Aren’t you guys playing together?”
Win sighed heavily. “The Bartons have been having a lot of family time in the afternoon before baby Nate comes. Because Nate is here things will be busy. So, right now, I’m only playing with her in class really.”
“That’s a bit of a bummer. But, why don’t you and I go to the park with the pond with the good skipping stones?” offered Uncle Rhodey. “Then we’ll come home and you can help with dinner.”
“Really? I love skipping stones with you. You’re the best at it in the world.”
Uncle Rhodey laughed, “Yeah, so, once you’ve said hi to Jasmine take off your fancy tutu, put on play clothes and we’ll head out.” He drained his glass.
“Cool,” Win finished his drink and said, “I’ve had a lovely time with you at my Place.”
“I’ve had a lovely time as your guest; thank you for inviting me.”
They left together hand-in-hand and, at the elevators, Win hit the down button as Uncle Rhodey selected up. The one to go down came first. “See you soon.”
The button for the fifty-second floor was too high, and he was alone in the elevator. “I wish I had my stick. JARVIS, legal on fifty-two, please.”
“Of course, Master Win.”
The floor button lit up, and it started to glide downward, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
As they headed down, he asked, “What’s the most interesting thing you’re doing right now?”
Asking JARVIS what he was doing was like asking the universe what it was doing. He was running millions of programs, coordinating tens of thousands of programs, operating thousands of robots, speaking to hundreds of people in many languages. Asking him what he was doing was pointless. Asking him what the most interesting thing was always got results.
“I’m meeting with my new doctor right not. Sir interviewed people and one struck a chord. He’s great. He has a degree in computer science, one in trauma and one in child psychiatry.”
“He seems nice to you?”
“What makes him stand out is that, after discussing it with Sir, he said that, if you accept that I’m a functioning person and we don’t approach my therapy as a thought experiment but as therapy, my being AI is irrelevant, I’m just a brilliant teen in a war. When Sir explained that there are some aspects of my life and thinking that are bound and unchangeable because of my very nature as a programmed person and that no amount of talking will alter it, he calmly responded that he’s worked with other gifted neurodivergent people before and he doesn’t aim to make people a certain way just help them function the way they should… I was worried Sir wouldn’t be able to find someone who wanted to work with me out of anything other than curiosity. The fact that this doctor shrugged off my being AI as comparable to being autistic is comforting.”
“I’m glad Daddy found you someone good to talk to.”
“Yes, his first six interviews lasted under ten minutes each,” agreed JARVIS. The elevator stopped, “Here we are.”
“Thank you,” said Win as the door opened. His saddle shoes were not the best for skipping because they weren’t as flexible as his sneakers or his jellies, but he still skipped as he went to Jasmine’s cubicle.
It was decorated with fresh flowers and lots of balloons, and it looked very nice. He smiled as he got there, “Hello, Jasmine, do you have time for a visit?”
“I do,” she smiled, “it’s great to see you, Win.”
“It’s great to see you too. I missed you. How are you? How’s your baby?”
“I’m good; she’s good. Her name is Mercy.”
“That’s a very pretty name. Is she very cute? Little kids can’t visit the babies in daycare.”
“She’s so cute,” she got out her phone to show him pictures.
Mercy was adorable and tiny, and he said, “That’s one pretty baby.”
“Thank you. You look very nice.”
“We went to Win’s Place for a snack.”
“Fancy; I’ve never been. Was it nice?”
“So good; you gotta go.” He knew that Win’s Place was very expensive. He knew that not everyone could afford to just go. From dinner table discussions, he knew that even the lowest-paid Stark Industries employees were very well paid. But, expensive restaurants were still a luxury. Daddy always said it was important to remember that not everyone was leading the same life as him. “I know having a baby is very hard work. You gotta do all the work of growing her, and then you gotta take care of her, and that’s very tiring. When you’re ready for a break and a date night with your partner, you just let JARVIS know, and he’ll tell them you’re using my booth as my guest. That’s my baby gift to you.”
“Oh, Win, I couldn’t.”
“No,” he shook his head, “it’ll be so fun. They do tons of courses and it’s delicious and you can leave Mercy in daycare, ‘cause it’s open late for the labs, while you’re there.”
She laughed, “I don’t know if your daddy would like that.”
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” said JARVIS, “but it’s Win’s booth and you are a friend of his. He’s free to invite whomever he likes as his guest. Sir wouldn’t object in the least.”
“Well,” she relented, “that’s very kind of you. Let me lose a little more weight and get a little more fit. I’m not at date night level yet. I’m more at ‘collapse on the couch’ level.”
“That’s fair. So what’s it like having a baby?”
They talked for twenty minutes before she glanced at her watch and said, “I should really get her and go.”
“Sounds good; I’m gonna go to the park with Uncle Rhodey.”
They walked together to the elevators before parting with a hug and one more, “I missed you.”
He went up to his bedroom and put away his shoes, cravat, dressy tutu and cufflinks. He tossed his leggings and dress shirt into his hamper and put on the outfit he’d been wearing before of leggings, a t-shirt and a pink tutu that was meant for everyday use. JARVIS said, “The afternoon is cooling off. I suggest adding a sweatshirt.”
“Thank you, JARVIS. How’s therapy going?” He pulled on his “I Do Chemistry” sweatshirt. It was covered in beakers and chemical equations and was pale pink. It was a gift from Peter.
“It went very well; we’ll be meeting twice a week for the foreseeable future. Dr. Levine seems like a very nice man.”
“I’m glad. You deserve to talk to someone nice.”
“I do,” agreed JARVIS.
Win pulled on his sneakers and asked, “Where is Uncle Rhodey?”
“Bar lounge.”
“Cool.” Win rushed out of the room to the stairs.
“Hand on railing, no running,” JARVIS reminded him. Win rolled his eyes but did as told.
He called to Uncle Rhodey, “Let me grab my stick and then I’ll be ready.”
He ran to the playroom and grabbed his stick; it would be good for the stick to get some fresh air — a stick deserved to see the wild. He trotted back to the lounge and said, “Ready when you are.”
Uncle Rhodey was in jeans and a sweatshirt and sneakers — at the ready for a good time. Uncle Rhodey stood and held out his hand. “Let’s go, bud.”
Win held his hand and skipped next to him. “I’m not liking HYDRA. But I love that you’re here and we get to spend every day together.”
“I love being with you too, sweetheart,” agreed Uncle Rhodey.
They went to the park, and Uncle Rhodey started to sort through stones. He handed Win very flat rocks to try to skip. A big kid came over. He asked Uncle Rhodey if he was the Machine. Win rolled his eyes behind the kid at Uncle Rhodey, and Uncle Rhodey smiled at him before saying that, yes, he was the Machine. The kid asked why he was there. Uncle Rhodey said he was there skipping stones with his godlessson.
Win gave the boy a wave and said, “Uncle Rhodey in the best in the world at skipping stones. Y’wanna skip stones with us?”
“Okay,” said the big kid.
Uncle Rhodey helped the big kid find good stones too, because he was kind like that. They skipped them together. Win was okay at it. He could get two or three jumps. Uncle Rhodey could always get at least nine. The big kid couldn’t do it. His were just plopping in. Uncle Rhodey started to teach him, giving him advice about how to hold his wrist.
A woman came over and seemed upset that Uncle Rhodey was helping her boy. The kid rolled his eyes. Win would never treat his daddy like that. “He’s the Machine, Mom, Colonel Rhodes. He’s a superhero.”
“He’s a Lieutenant Colonel,” Win corrected. “That’s better.” The boy got a skip, and Win clapped, “Yay, you made it jump. Good jump!” Win made his skip three times, and Uncle Rhodey handed him and the other kid another round of good rocks. “Thank you, Uncle Rhodey.” The boy echoed him. The little boy got another skip. Win cheered again. “You’re getting really good at this.”
They played for a bit longer until Win asked if they could go to the swings, and Uncle Rhodey said yes easily because it was a beautiful afternoon. Beautiful afternoons in the park were meant for breezily shifting plans where skipping stones transitioned into short walks to the good playground with the rust-less swings. There was tall grass along the path, and Win whacked it with his stick, pretending it was the African veldt.
“Y’know what’s really irritating, Uncle Rhodey?”
“What, kiddo?” asked Uncle Rhodey.
“Lions don’t live in the jungle. The song says they do. But they don’t. They live on the veldt.”
“That is kinda irritating. But it’s a fun song,” said Uncle Rhodey.
“Yeah,” agreed Win. “But everyone gets it wrong ‘cause of the song. Have you ever read The Veldt by Ray Bradbury?”
“That’s the one where the electronic nursery eats the parents because the parents think they should get back to basics, right?” asked Uncle Rhodey.
“Yeah, that’s why Daddy says I’m not allowed to use the internet or watch screens by myself. He says, if he lets technology raise me, the lions from the veldt will eat him… I want to watch more YouTube.”
“I’m inclined to agree with your daddy,” said Uncle Rhodey.
“It’s a really good story,” said Win. “Ray Bradbury wrote lots of good stories. I don’t want a nursery that cooks me dinners, or gives me baths or has lions that eat Daddy. I just want a StarkTab of my own and an email address.”
“You’ll have all the technology in the world when you’re grown up,” Uncle Rhodey assured him.
They reached the playground, and Win handed his stick to Uncle Rhodey for safekeeping as he went to the swings. He loved swings and was really good at pumping. Win didn’t need any pushes at all, not even one to get started. Uncle Rhodey sat on the swing next to his and didn't swing; he just chilled out, talking to Win, praising how high he was getting. After a little while, Uncle Rhodey said they should head back to start dinner.
It was a bummer to leave the park, but cooking was always fun. He slowed down and used his feet to break. But he stumbled off the swing and into the dirt and got his leggings dirty. He popped back up and brushed himself off. He’d have to change before cooking. Accepting his stick, he took Uncle Rhodey’s hand in his and skipped as they went back to his Tower.
There, he washed his hands, changed into his chef’s outfit and met Uncle Rhodey in the kitchen. “Uncle Rhodey? I love your momma’s meatloaf. It’s delicious. But usually, we only have it when it’s cold. Why are we having meatloaf on a sunny day?”
“Yesterday was a hard day for the Avengers. Everything was okay, but Sam was frazzled. He likes meatloaf, so Daddy asked me if I would make Momma’s meatloaf,” explained Uncle Rhodey.
“Oh that’s nice; he’ll like it a lot. It’s a very good meatloaf.”
They worked together. Win especially enjoyed the part where he got to squish the meat, eggs, spices and breadcrumbs all together with his hands. It was the best, grossest playdough ever. Uncle Rhodey also made mashed cauliflower and roasted broccoli and was putting finishing touches on everything as people started coming in, and robots arrived with bread from Win’s Place.
Daddy scooped him up and kissed him and asked how his day was, if he was being good for Uncle Rhodey, if he had hit anyone with his stick. Everyone shared stories about their day. Nanny and Steve had shouted at the UN separately. And Steve was in a fight with the internet. Everyone had spoken to their doctors. Friend bragged about his picture. All in all, it was a pretty good day for Win Stark.