13241/Wherein there is sugary cereal

Wherein there is sugary cereal
Date of Scene:	01 November 2022
Location:	Stark Tower: Penthouse
Synopsis:	Clint looks after the de-aged Pepper and Tony, the day after halloween magic made them youthened. Breakfast and plans are started.
Cast of Characters:	Pepper Potts, Clint Barton, Tony Stark

---

Pepper Potts has posed:
Halloween is over. It should have been a fun, if not a little frightening of an evening. The decorations were even in place in the Penthouse, so how could it be other? Jack-o-lanterns form paths, the dancing lights within the gourd-y-wide smiles had meant to be amusing and inviting. The reality, however, was something completely different.

Within the guest room, Pepper, or rather, a young Virginia "Ginny", cried herself to sleep over her predicament. Over their predicament. And had she heard that Thor was dead? Something she has to ask Steve, but even the thought of that didn't help. As a result, sleep was fitful, and in the morning, the cheery voice of HOMER announcing the weather, opening the drapes so the city could be seen without couldn't really lift her from the depths.

She emerges from the room in a set of sweats that had been placed at the foot of her bed, straight strawberry blond hair unbrushed and looking more than a little unmanageable at the moment. Wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, she looks around the larger-than-she-remembered it room. The decorations for the holiday are gone, thanks to the robots, perhaps in a fit of empathy?

Padding barefoot across the floor towards the kitchenette, Pepper rifles through the cabinets, and with a scowl, puts the 'whole grain' cereals back into the cabinets, only to find a good strawberry and banana yogurt for breakfast.

Clint Barton has posed:
Steve had contact all the Avengers, the ones he knew closely, to inform them of some of the members situation. Clint had been at a Halloween party last night, one he'd promised Lila he wouldn't miss on pain of sulking, so wasn't able to relieve Vision until some earlier this morning. Having been dropped off by a quinjet, the bearded (because Clint has a full grown beard and everything now okay run with it), is in the kitchen.

Just casually flipping pancakes on the grittle.

"Hey, wow... Steve wasn't joking, you're really a teenager." There's juice, eggs, bacon (the turkey kind and the vegi substitute for you weirdos who don't eat meat), fresh cut strawberries, oranges, and basically whatever.

When you're an absentee father for most of your kids life, you get real good at making those mornings you can be there count.

"Vision just left, by the by, but I have him on standby if we need him..." For Tony, that is. No sense pointing out the obvious.

Tony Stark has posed:
The scent of cooking breakfast will rouse anybody, even those that had really had a POWER sleep. Tony was very firmly out, to where others were able to have full conversations standing over him the night before, and he wasn't aware of any of it, just snoring away. But now, he's up, and examining what Vision left for him. There's no ability to fit one of the arc reactor spares in due to Tony's smaller size, so there's an adaptor in place.

Tony's unsure what to do with the strange adaptor, approximately the size of an orange trailing wires to his chest-- but the puzzle gets a quick temporary solve, on a necklace made of a necktie. It's a quick, creative solve with what's on hand, to allow the priority of breakfast. Tony's already in a change of clothes (...creepy, Vision...!), so he just comes wandering out.

Tony is on the lower end of 10 years, which has cut his height down to just over four feet. Tony looks like he was hit by an exhaustion grenade, but comes over to sit at the table. "Next time we'll hide behind you for the youth-ray --- What's with the beard?" Tony pipes.

Pepper Potts has posed:
"I think I look like I did when I was ten," Pepper murmurs morosely, detouring at the sight of (a bearded!) Clint in the kitchen, and the yogurt is set aside. Clamboring up onto the tall barstool, her bare feet dangle halfway between one rung and the next. Scooching a little more towards the end of the seat to perch, she at least can hook her toes on a rung.

Nodding quickly at the information, she looks back at the bedroom where she knows Tony probably is before facing forward again, but not without that long stare at the beard once more. "I'm glad he stayed." Her voice isn't the alto that is so readily recognized; she's a touch more high pitched, and most decidedly juvenile. It doesn't mean she's not worried; that is still written all over her young face.

Tony's emergence from the room gains a sigh from the youth, and it holds a decided sound of relief. There is an effort to sound a little more cheerful, okay, a little less depressed, to call out, "Clint's making pancakes."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint points a spachula at Tony, "har har, you joke, but to have my knees not hurt every morning I'd gladly take the brunt of the youth-ray." The spachula twirls in his hand and a pancake is flipped gingerly onto a plate where he's started serving out some of just about everything he's amassed. A feast fit for a King: even a ten year old one.

"I was adopted by the Nidavellir, honorary dwarf." With a flare of dramatics, he waves his hand down in presentation of his beard. Which is JUST long enough he could start braiding beads if he so desired. "This magnificant facial accessory is the accoutrement of my station."

He looks the part of the stay at home dad with his white t-shirt under an unbuttoned red flannel shirt and sweat pants. Barefoot, with a handtowel drapped over his shoulder for wiping bits of pancake batter off his fingers between flapjacks. A plate is set down infront of Pepper and another nearby for Tony, while Clint himself leans against the counter eating a strip of vegi bacon because he's not trying to have a heart attack. "I don't care what anyone says, this does not taste the same as regular bacon." Nose wrinkled in a look of disgust. He's still eating it though.

Tony Stark has posed:
"I wasn't going to make fun of it. I like it. And you can go white for Christmas," Tony says, smoothly, helpfully. "Need more regular bacon every morning to get the weight on for that, though." The turkey bacon is stirred on the plate doubtfully but then eaten anyway. Same as Clint, it's going to be eaten anyway.

Tony's humor has adjusted, it has a different tone to it - there's less finesse to it, as the impact of the youthening magic has altered their perspective in a variety of ways. It's still a step above fart and poop humor - but that's not going to be off the table...

Tony is considering Pepper with a not-at-all cloaked examination while he chews the breakfast. It amounts to staring. But he's present for pancake chat: "Is there chocolate in them? Do we have chocolate chips? We should have them."

Pepper Potts has posed:
As the minutes tick by in her 10 yr old mind, thoughts of 'health and weight conscious' get further and further away. That and, oh... what work needs to be done in order to keep Stark Industries ticking. Pepper's got the maple syrup, and upending the bottle, it looks as if the syrup takes first spot to the actual pancakes. "We should have sausage around?" Looking around the room again for the seemingly (now) ever-present Happy, there's a brief scowl when she comes up empty, as it were. So, no turkey bacon for her!

The fruit, instead, is attacked, though she picks from the bowl with NO STRAWBERRIES with the explanation, "Mom said I was allergic to them."

Orange juice is taken, and only when everything is set up just so on her plate and her surroundings does she pick up knife and fork.

"I don't like it," is said between chews. "I think you look better without it." So... with kids comes the more brutal honesty?

She can feel Tony staring, and her head ducks slightly, and she casts a glance sideways. "We should? Maybe? I mean, we could." There's a pause before adding, "We should. We should make cookies... or something." Which, of course, requires chocolate chips.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint never throws away food, even if it's disgusting food that shouldn't be allowed to be called food in the first place, which Turkey bacon definitely shouldn't, but here we are. He keeps chewing until he's finished it and swallows it down with a big mouth full of coffee. Worlds best Dad on the side, despite the fact he just almost killed one of the Pre-Vengers by not realizing that she was allergic to Strawberries.

"My kids like it." He points out to them both, as if that's really all that matters. "Or they say they do between episodes of asking me if I'll buy them a playstation five and telling me I'm getting fat." Which is emperically untrue.

Then comes the brutal honesty from the tiny "Ginny" Potts. "I'm definitely not going to get into an argument about my beard with someone who hasn't brushed their hair yet." He grabs another strip of fake-con and chews it like someone who just dropped a mic.

"So, what's on the agenda today? You guys getting booster seats for the quinjet?"

Tony Stark has posed:
Tony defends Clint, "//I// like it," he repeats. Child Tony is going to bat for Clint, apparently. He also picks up a raspberry and throws it at Pepper. Because that will make his point more clear, and Tony has always liked ranged combat.

"It will cover his old man chins," Tony adds, clearly siding also with Clint's kids about the fat commentary, but only since Clint brought it up himself.

Tony orients on Clint's question about the booster seats, but picks out the dangerous part of the statement: "...We could fly the quinjet today," Tony says, holding onto the raspberry he was about to throw at Pepper. The raspberries could also be a pre-teen method of trying to get Pepper's attention onto him, but lacking the awareness of WHY he might want it.

"Wait...I HAVE FLYING SUITS," Tony then pivots, with a new glowing excitement of a boy that found something better than a PS5. How did he overlook that?!

Pepper Potts has posed:
"They lie.." Pepper nods solemly in between of the dripping bites of pancakes, "So they can have the PS.. whatever it is now." Brows rise as Clint tracks the thought by himself and another bite is taken.

*ploop*

The raspberry lands in her lovely lake of maple syrup, and she casts an indignant look towards Tony, more than ready to throw it back at him, with the added stickiness before she catches the slight burn given by Clint. A frown exits the young girl, and she puts what could very well be now sticky fingers into parts of her hair. "Mom brushes it..". After all, it is long, and would take an extra hand at detangling. Now, with maple syrup!

"Besides, you're going to take me to see Taylor Swift, right?" Foregone conclusion, right there. "You //can't// wear that going." She'll DIE.

At the change of subject, over to that more 'boys' sort, she looks between the two. "Uh oh..." is murmured. She's not usually a passenger in the Quin. Helicopter, yes. Lear? Absolutely. Quin? heh.. nope. Her voice lowers to a more pre-teen theatric level, "Now you did it..."

Ooooooooo...

Clint Barton has posed:
There is a whole host of reasons Clint shouldn't let Tony get to one of those Flying suits, the least of which is the amount of damage a ten year old could accomplish with such a destructive piece of machinary. Not to mention the lack of power to make the thing work with the arc-reactor in the state it currently finds itself.

"Yeah, you //could// do that." He says with an exagerated voice drawing out the one word as if there were something far more inticing he had in mind in lue of that. Laura would know exactly what to do to get them out of this pickle, but she's not here to save the day, so it falls upon Clint to distract!

He snaps and points at Pepper, "Go grab a brush." While he tries to keep Tony the Teenager away from one of the Iron Man suits. How did anyone think he was equipped for this? "Why don't we, instead of flying a suit loaded to the actual plates with missiles, go flying in a quinjet... which is also loaded to the plates with missiles, but I'll be in the cockpit with you and, therefore, much safer somehow?"

Tony Stark has posed:
Tony has observed the sticky hands in Pepper's hair. And he remains an incredible problem-solver. "We can cut your hair," Tony suggests, ready and willing to please. "That'll make it easier. I'll do it," he volunteers, lifting one hand as if raising his hand in class. He'll be tribute for this fun task.

"Then you'll look nice for Taylor." The persuasive charisma still is there too; tiny smooth Stark. "I've met her. She's alright." Little kid-sized scoffing brag. It's followed by another raspberry onto Pepper's plate, though, because his attention is fully able to go in multiple directions at once, as well.

"HOMER," Tony talks to the ceiling, "Start print of uh, Mark 4 propulsion boots in kid-size." He glances at Pepper. Then the back area. "Three sets." Sharing is caring. "The augment power for visitors module. Might fit? Dunno. Mock it up."

Because Tony still has control of something maybe worse than suits - the big AI. "We can do that while the boots fabricate. ...The haircut. And the quinjet." Tony's all over the place, but remembers the breakfast and starts to eat that again.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pepper starts to slide off her seat before her plate is invaded with another raspberry. This one she throws back, "I don't want it," comes out sounding very much like 'not after you touched it'. Right, brush. And sticky hands where ever she goes. "I'm going to go-"

Stopping in midsentence, the young Ginny stares at Tony for a long moment. "I'm not going to cut my hair. Mom said.." and there goes that thought as well as the realization that mom is indeed NOT here, nor should she trickles down. Instead, she moves towards what she considers to be a blatant lie, and sets (sticky) hands on little hips. "Nu-uh. You have not met her." With that declaration, she spins about to run into the master bedroom where she knows she has her brushes.. and lo and behold hair product!

Even in her 10 yr old form, Pepper knows that all that HOMER conversation isn't a good one, and emerging with a few brushes, she calls out, "Don't do it, HOMER." Looking back down and across the great divide known as the Penthouse living area, she continues, "No. It's not a good idea, Tony. And you're not touching my hair. I don't want a haircut.." The last bit sounds a little more petulant, and it finishes with a quick brush to the side of her face with the back of her wrist. See? No tears. Taught at an early age not to cry... not in public, anyway.

Tony Stark has posed:
"I have //so// met her," Tony says, now challenged. "HOMER, place a call to Taylor Swift's agent," Tony says imperiously. He's not going to be called a liar here! "She'll tell you---" Tony continues.

"Yes, sir," HOMER echoes back, to each of the demands. He isn't JARVIS; JARVIS might have questioned a little more.

"You'll look great. I'll get some scissors," Tony says, suddenly pushing back from the table and running off full speed towards his lab. The door opens with palm, and he disappears down inside.

This will end well.

Clint Barton has posed:
Syrup in Pepper's hair, that's probably not good. Many spinning plates, thankfully Clint has one talent and it's plate spinning. He whistles and flicks his fingers in a 'come'ere' motion to Pepper and whips the towel off his shoulder to clean her hands before she can get any of the maple mess in her blonde hair. With that task done, or mostly done, he turns his full attention on Tony since Ginny is off in the bedroom where shouldn't possibly start a fire.

Or a war.

"Hold on, now... don't be too hasty here Pepper.. Tony wants to go flying around with rocket boots, we shouldn't be so quick to turn it down." Not at all because Clint wants a pair of rocket boots either, okay? He does, obviously, want a pair of rocket boots... but that's besides the point.

"IF we're going to rocket booting, however, we have to wear protective equipment. Helmets, elbow and knee pads.. maybe some sort of-" Hands waving up and down in front of his chest, "-chest protective thingy." And then he's off while Clint is standing there just staring after the retreating brilliant pre-teen.

A long, very exasperated, sigh flaps his lips...

Hand out to Pepper for the brush, motioning at one of the stools. "Sit, let's detangle this hair. I'm actually pretty good at this. I use to do my moms, then the bearded ladies.. and Elsa the Seer. She had long curly hair and she'd toss and turn all night. So when she woke up it looked like a Sparrow had nested on the top of her head."

Pepper Potts has posed:
"HOMER, don't do it," Pepper repeats imperiously towards the AI. If it were JARVIS, the chances would be better than even that he might actually listen to her. He actually considers the requests and the potential ramifications.

The young Ginny backs up so Clint can deal with her hair, from the brief fluffing and cleaning of syrup, to the beginning of brushing. Of //course// she wiggles, though she's trying to stay still for it.

"Rocket boots are scary," comes as a pronouncement. "Even with all that stu- ouch." Her now cleaner hands rises up at the pull. The emotion is mitigated, however, with the mention of bearded ladies and the sparrow's nests, and she giggles. "Did you ever find a bird? I bet it would have laid an egg, too?"

Tony's full departure down the stairs does lead Pepper to that other thought, "He really wants to cut my hair.." Does that sound like she is relenting a little?

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint has pretty steady hands and surprisingly isn't rough about detangling the thicket of blonde hair, but scalps are notoriously sensitive. So while he does his best not to yank her little head, it's impossible not to snag every once in a while.

But there is a tried and true method for hair brushing that remains every bit as effective now as it had when Lila was a toddler: Distraction.

With a grin, Clint nods, "I did, but only once. It wasn't a sparrow though, it was a hawk. Now, I know what you're thinking! A hawk is such a big bird, how could she have possibly not noticed it making a nest in her hair, but-" He points over her shoulder with the brush between gentle strokes, systematically working one particularly petulant knot free, "-you'd have to appreciate how big Elsa's head was. Like a watermelon. They say it's because she contained all the visions she ever saw, but I think it's because of her ego."

He snorts a quiet laugh and shrugs, "Either way, she did NOT notice the hawk laying an egg in her hair and when I found them, I nursed it until it hatched. Which is where I got my name... Hawk Hair."

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pepper is pulled back into the story, enchanted by the thought of a majestic hawk coming down and then.. making a nest in someone's hair. She giggles again, the tugging against wayward knots ignored for the story unfolding before her. "It did? It actually laid an egg?" If one was to look at the young girl's face, it'd be quite obvious that she's trying reconcile the sizes of a head and a bird.. and a nest. And within the nest, an egg.

At that last bit, however, Ginny does realize that she's gotten 'got', as it were, and she blows an amused, exasperated sigh, followed by, "Clint...". Another laugh exits the child, and she shakes her head. "Okay, Hawk Hair." Her voice lowers, as if to impart a secret that no one else is to know, even if there's no one else in the room. "You really do look better without the beard. But, I think I'll eventually get used to it, so you can keep it." Permission! From a 10 yr old.

Clint Barton has posed:
"Well, I'm certainly glad that I've gotten your blessing." Clint whirls the brush around his fingers as one might a throwing dagger, but with a great deal more dexterity than some. Effortlessly, even. Until he's holding it up and out to her. "I was worried about it." He was not, but he knows how to play the part.

"Now, go get dressed. We've got a long day of ... doing ten year old stuff." Which he has not yet planned, but he's fairly well certain Steve will be by for his shift minding the pre-teengers shortly. He'll have them at a Dodgers game, no doubt.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pepper smiles broadly before she takes the brush, "Okay." She exhales a quick chuffed breath before, "Thank you." Finally, she turns around to run back into her (guest) room and close the door behind her, leaving the archer with the dishes. No doubt it'll take more more than a little bit of time to find the //perfect// outfit with the perfect shoes, and the perfect little purse to go along with it. Some things simply haven't changed...

Who knows what the day will bring? A ride in a Quin was promised, after all. And who knows what plans Tony has...