The air in the Malibu mansion was usually filled with the blaring sounds of AC/DC or the mechanical whir of Dum-E failing a simple task. Today, however, it was silent, save for the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of dress shoes on marble.
Tony Stark, currently wrist-deep in the exposed wiring of a Jericho missile prototype, didn't bother looking up.
"You're late," Tony muttered, wiping grease onto a rag that was already filthy.
"My apologies, Young Master," a smooth, velvety voice echoed. "The strawberries for the tart were not up to standard at the local market. I had to take a brief detour to a farm in Ojai to acquire acceptable ones."
Tony spun around on his stool. Standing there, immaculate in a black tailcoat without a single speck of California dust, was Sebastian Michaelis. He held a silver tray with a porcelain tea set and a strawberry tart that looked like it belonged in a museum, not a mechanic's workshop.
"Ojai is eighty miles away, Sebastian. You've been gone twenty minutes."
Sebastian smiled. It was the smile that used to terrify Tony when he was seven, the one that didn't quite reach his crimson eyes. Now, at thirty-eight, Tony found it comforting. "I took a shortcut."
"You ran," Tony corrected, snatching the tart. "At Mach 2. Again. You know the satellites pick up heat signatures when you do that. I have to write a script to scrub the NORAD logs every time you want fresh fruit."
"A minor inconvenience for a superior afternoon tea, surely," Sebastian replied, pouring the Earl Grey. The stream of liquid was perfect, not a drop spilled.
Tony took a bite of the tart. He groaned. It was heaven. "I hate that you're right. Okay, listen. The Afghanistan trip is tomorrow. Rhodey is nervous."
"Colonel Rhodes worries. It is his nature," Sebastian said, beginning to tidy up the chaotic workbench. He picked up a heavy wrench with two fingers and placed it gently in the toolbox. "I have packed your suits. Three charcoal, two navy. I also included the portable soldering iron you pretend you don't need."
Tony chewed thoughtfully. He looked at Sebastian—really looked at him. The man hadn't aged a day since Howard Stark brought him home thirty years ago. Back then, Tony had been terrified. He had seen Sebastian's shadow move when the man was standing still. He had seen Sebastian catch a falling chandelier with one hand to save Maria Stark.
When Tony was fifteen, he had hacked the Pentagon. When he was sixteen, he had tried to hack Sebastian. He had set up UV cameras, thermal sensors, and holy water traps.
Sebastian had simply walked through them all, handed Tony a glass of warm milk, and said, "I am a demon, Young Master. Do try to sleep; you have a calculus exam in the morning."
Since then, it was their secret. The world thought Sebastian was just a very loyal, very intense British man.
"You're not coming with me," Tony said suddenly.
Sebastian paused, a screwdriver in his hand. "Sir?"
"To Afghanistan. You're staying here."
The demon's expression didn't change, but the temperature in the room dropped five degrees. "I am your butler, Tony. Where you go, I follow. That is... the arrangement."
"I know the arrangement. You stick around because you find humans 'amusing' and my dad's contract had a loophole," Tony waved his hand dismissively. "But Obadiah is acting weird. He's been locking files in the server. I need you here to watch him."
"Mr. Stane is of no consequence. He is a greedy little man," Sebastian said dismissively.
"He's my godfather. Just... keep an eye on him. I'll be with Rhodey. It's a simple weapons demo. In and out. I'll be back before you can bake another one of these." Tony pointed to the tart.
Sebastian stared at Tony for a long moment. His eyes glowed, just for a fraction of a second, a deep, dangerous fuchsia. Then, he bowed, his gloved hand over his heart.
"As you wish, Young Master. I shall remain here and ensure the mansion remains... pest-free."
Tony hopped off the stool. "Good. Don't eat anyone while I'm gone."
"I would never dream of spoiling my dinner," Sebastian smiled.
Tony didn't see the shadow stretching out behind Sebastian, longer and darker than physics should allow, its claws twitching in anticipation.
[End of Chapter 1]
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