damalur: (clamp • sei-chan)
no, use my SPACE name! ([personal profile] damalur) wrote2016-05-25 08:57 pm

a civil war (marvel, tony + carol/rhodey)

Tony, Carol, and their ongoing argument over who Rhodey loves the most.

-

It was a nice day. Quiet. Everyone was behaving very professionally and nobody had been turned into a cyborg; James Rupert Rhodes had learned through massively traumatic experience that that was really all you could expect out of a good day. Professionalism, and a lack of cyborging. Although earlier he’d had to field a text exchange that verged on the unprofessional—

TONY
Have you ever thought about adding another middle name? Ronald? Reginald? Rupert?

TONY
You could be Rupert Rupert. James Rupert Rupert Rhodes.

JIM
No.

TONY
J.R.R. Rhodes.

JIM
Stop it. Stop trying to turn me into Tolkien.

TONY
Roger roger, Rupert Rupert.

—which was how he knew he was now stuck being called “Rupert” for the next six months unless and until Tony managed to think up something even more appalling.

Anyway. Good day. Quiet. Professional. Some girlfriends might suggest it was hypocritical of an adrenaline-junkie superhero Marine airman to think of himself as “quiet” or “professional”, but some girlfriends thought it was okay to share food with a cat, which just showed how off their rocker some girlfriends were. He was appreciating the quiet, professional setting in a quiet, professional way and had in fact commandeered an empty office on the Triskelion’s fifth floor to get some paperwork done. He wasn’t formally attached to any team at the moment, but he’d been flying support for the Unity Squad and for the Wakandan embassy, and the Navy had been kicking around the idea of stationing him on a carrier for a tour as a mobile response platform.

Quiet. Professional. Paperwork.

And then from outside: the sound of arguing.

“—think you can compete with our history is laughable. Do you recognize my laughing face? Carol, this is my laughing face. Laughing face, Carol.”

“It’s not the quantity, it’s the quality. He’s never been angry enough with me to run off with one of my suits of armor—”

“That’s because you don’t have armor!”

“—and, and he agreed to feed my cat that one time I was in space.”

“No he didn’t, you took the cat with you.”

“He would have agreed to feed my cat—”

“He’s mildly allergic to cats! Ha, I bet you didn’t know that about him.”

“Everyone knows that about him!”

The door to his makeshift office flew open. Standing behind it were two of the world’s finest: he in a three-button suit with a subtle pinstripe and French cuffs, and she in a pair of orange jeans and a “SUN’S OUT GUNS OUT” t-shirt Jim strongly suspected had been lifted from his own wardrobe.

"Rupert,” said Tony, “be honest: which of us do you love more?”

“As a casual reminder, you aren’t having sex with Tony,” said Carol.

“I would have sex with him!”

"I would have sex with him better,” countered Carol.

“You can’t have sex with him better. Besides, I’m a genius. At everything. Including sex.”

"Is that why you had to ask that Kree kid to build you a time machine? Because you’re a genius at everything?”

Tony didn’t deign to respond; the scornful angle of his head as he turned away from Carol was exquisite. “As a casual reminder, she doesn’t upgrade your armor.”

"You guys are seriously arguing about this?” Jim leaned back in his chair. “Seriously? Do you not have anything better to do?” Their faces remained blankly expectant. “Look, I love you both, okay? Now get the fuck out of here and leave me alone.”

“Whatever you say, honeybunch,” said Tony.

Carol’s eyes narrowed in dire calculation. Somewhere, somebody was fearing for their life. “Sure,” she said. “But before we go, can I bring you anything? A cheesesteak from Philly?”

“Upgrades?” Tony jumped in.

“I can get you in the cockpit of an F-35B.”

“I can build you an F-35B.”

Jim looked down at his paperwork. He looked up at his office. He looked back down at his paperwork. He looked back up at his office. His quiet, professional thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of engines.

“Yes to the cheesesteak, yes to the upgrades,” he said. “We’re keeping the F-35 on the table. Now come on, let’s blow this place.”

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