fandomtownies | Homecoming Carnival Post II | The Park

"I can work on a jetpack for your next birthday gift," Tony offered.

"Really?!" Hardison asked, looking far more excited about the prospect than he probably really should.

But getting a jetpack and a laser-sword? SIGN HIM UP!

"If you end up crashing it, I sincerely hope no one tries to murder me in revenge."

Totes casual sentence, there. Just a thing that happened to Tony.

"...Most people are jokin' when they say that," Hardison noted, eyeing Tony with a little concern.

"It was kind of a joke?" Look, his life was magical and awful in equal parts.

"It's the part that kinda ain't that I'm side-eyein'," Hardison told him, shaking his head. "Your life was Fandom-weird before you even got to the island, yo."

"This place was meant as a vacation," Tony said, trying not to smile at how insane that was.

Hardison didn't even try; he openly cackled at that. "Yo, who sold you the island as a relaxing vacation getaway?" he asked. "Can you sue them for fraud?"

Or run a con? But suing was probably more Tony's speed.

Tony gave him a mock affronted look for that. "My personal assistant set it up. After fighting what might have been a being that consumes entire planets to survive."

"...Does your personal assistant like you?" Hardison asked.

Look, he liked Tony just fine! Better than just fine! He had a tech-crush on Tony Stark. And he would also never send someone he liked to Fandom and tell them it was a vacation package.

"Also, I'mma just straight up say your world is hella weird."

But it almost was a vacation for him!

"Sometimes I wonder about that," he admitted with a laugh. "I think the weird threshold was passed back when the Nazis were summoning frost giants. It only got weirder from there."

"You do hear the words that come outta your mouth sometimes, right?" Hardison checked. "Yo, you don't smell burnt toast or nothin'? Cause that kinda word jumble is either a sign of a stroke or someone detailing the plot of an improbable comic book."

The narration wishes to apologize for its attempt at cleverness.

"Hardison," he chided "I'm a billionaire who built a flying suit of armor to escape captivity. My life is definitely a comic book."

"I know," Hardison said with a grin. "I'm just jealous."

There was a collection of Hardiman comics hidden away in his house that spanned decades that proved the truth of that statement.

"If it helps, it involves a lot more near death experiences than you'd think," Tony said. "And people in silly costumes claiming to be your nemesis."

"I run heists, yo," Hardison said. "Silly costumes and near death experiences ain't as rare as you might think. The whole reason we stuck together was cause the guy who put our team together tried to blow us up after our first job."

"See, always treat your employees well. Otherwise they might turn into s team of criminals who will ruin your life," Tony replied, nodding in agreement.

"Hey now!" Hardison said with mock-indignation. "We were already criminals. I ain't hacked the Pentagon servers at twelve for nothin' now."

"Weren't we precocious," he teased.

"Damn right we were," Hardison said. "Was banned from Iceland at eighteen, too."

"The first party I got drunk at MIT, I decided to show how easy it was to get past their firewalls," Tony admitted with a quick grin. Because that was how you partied with nerds, yo.

"Cause it is!" Hardison exclaimed, exasperated. "Like, yo! Have some damn pride, you know?"

"Low bidder government contracts." And he'd know all about that.

"Yo, farm it out to an intern born after 1985 is all I'm sayin'," Hardison said. "Or at least have an intern poke it with a digital stick every once in awhile to see how fast it comes down!"

"They will always be at least a generation behind on their tech just based on the bureaucracy at play there," Tony said with a dismissive wave.

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