37Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Iron Man or Fullmetal. Everything you see here is borrowed with love. ;)
Chapter 2- On to Something
Edward's eyes fluttered open within the hour, just as Tony had predicted. He sat bolt upright, golden pools flashing with alarm. Tony looked up from his laptop.
"Where am I?" Edward asked.
" Logan Airport, on my private jet. Relax."
"Airport? How did I get here?" The blond moved to the window, needing perhaps to see for himself. They were parked out on the tarmac, the runway spread out before them as they waited to clear traffic control.
"Private limo," Tony replied. The blond turned around abruptly, looking annoyed by the short, unhelpful answers. Before he could open his mouth to say something rude, Tony continued. "I don't do panic, it's bad for my skin, and the convention hall was in all kinds of pandemonium when we left. After that device of yours exploded," the billionaire said, his voice holding an edge of disapproval, "Those that weren't injured were going around pretending they were from Terminator or some nonsense."
Confusion set in the young man's eyes.
"Terminator?" he asked.
"The movie?" Tony replied. Edward nodded as if he understood the reference, though Tony was unconvinced. He did, however, add it to the rapidly growing list of mysteries concerning the blond. What kid interested in Time Travel hadn't heard of Terminator?
He chose to ignore that detail for now and instead held out his hand.
"I'm Tony Stark, by the way."
"Oh, right. We never introduced ourselves," the young man realized. He looked at the outstretched hand, but made no move to take it. "Edward Elric."
"The exchange student from Germany, hm? You spin quite the story," Tony commented, looking back to the computer screen, "You had me fooled."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ed demanded, although he seemed rather nervous.
"I'm talking about that unfortunate tear in your coat."
The blond's attention moved immediately to his right sleeve, where a mechanical mess quickly became apparent. Pieces of metal were sticking out of his arm—from his arm. He swore loudly. Tony smirked, amused by his choice of colorful language.
"I don't suppose you'd tell me where you're really from?" He was met with a silent glare. "No, guess not." Tony shrugged; it never hurt to try.
"Why did you bring me here?" The smirk on Tony's face grew. Edward fidgeted. Tony could tell he didn't like the fact that he couldn't figure out the motive by himself.
"You have your secrets, and I have mine," Tony replied. Edward rounded on him, suspicion narrowing his eyes. Realizing he had sounded like a kidnapper, Tony waved for him to calm down.
"That's not what I meant. Frankly, I don't care who you are. I just figured you didn't want a roomful of time-travel freaks learning you had a metal arm."
Edward slowly took his seat, though it was obvious by the way he perched on the edge of his chair and the alertness in his eyes that he didn't trust this rescuer of his as of yet. And Tony Stark didn't blame him for it; there were few people he trusted in this world, and half of them weren't even human.
"That still doesn't answer my question," Edward said. Tony had to hand it to the kid, he was bright.
"Fine, I'll admit it, I'm intrigued," Tony replied, "So I did it for me. But I'm guessing you need help fixing that arm. Am I wrong?"
Edward looked again at the mess poking out from his ripped coat. His golden eyes seemed worried as he assessed the damage more closely. He tried to wiggle his fingers, but only two out of the five responded and sparks snapped at the place where the conduits had been severed by flying shrapnel. Edward winced and the concern on his brow deepened.
"Do you really think you can fix it?" he asked.
Tony considered this for a moment, looking at him evenly. "Can't be any harder than jimmy-rigging a miniature arc reactor in a cave full of terrorists," he replied with a bit of a smirk.
"Huh?" At this, the blond seemed thoroughly confused. Tony waved it off.
"But I can't do it here. We'll need to go back to my lab."
"And where is that exactly?" Edward asked.
"Malibu."
"Malibu?"
"California. Like the rum?"
Edward nodded, though his brow was still furrowed.
"Jeez, kid, you need to get out more," Tony commented. He pressed a button on the console at his left. "Happy, bring us home," Tony said into the small microphone, "Oh, and get us a bottle of Malibu."
"Who's that?" Edward asked.
"Happy, my bodyguard."
As if on cue, a man emerged from the front of the plane with a bottle and two glasses. The body guard surveyed Tony's guest with a deep frown on his face, but said nothing. Instead he set the glasses down at the bar, filled them with ice, and poured a generous splash of rum over the top. He passed one to his employer, who thanked him, and the other to Edward, who took it with a nod.
"Cheers," Tony said, downing the glass in one go.
Edward sniffed the contents of the glass, and was met with a sweet, coconut aroma. He took a small sip and, finding it pleasant, followed it with a larger one. Though he wasn't much one for drinking, he had to admit that after the day he was having, it was a welcome reprise. He glanced at Tony, who had put on a sleep mask and ear buds and leaned back in his chair. There were things the man wasn't telling him. Edward considered what he knew. The man was rich and eccentric, and for some reason he'd been at the convention, though he wasn't like the other investors Edward had spoken with. Mr. Stark seemed frankly unimpressed with the concept of time-travel.
Ed leaned back into his seat and watched the airport sink below him as the small plane took off, a soft smile on his face. He was starting to get that feeling he got when he was on to something.
"Can you fix it?" Edward asked.
They were in Tony's shop and the man was looking at Ed's busted arm. Not long ago Tony had sat in that chair, fighting cardiac arrest. Now he was the one playing operation, albeit on something not quite as corporeal. He had moved the chair to the far corner of the shop, by the driveway tunnel. This way the various worktables and toolboxes hid the rest of the garage from view—Tony didn't want Ed noticing the Mark 3 computer interface or the Mark 2 suit hanging from the ceiling on the opposite side of the room. It wasn't that he had anything to hide, he just didn't feel like explaining. And if he was honest, the fact that this kid hadn't immediately pegged him for Iron Man was rather refreshing.
Edward's eyes followed every movement Tony made with the small precision tool between his fingers. They were laced with worry as he waited impatiently for an answer. Tony, finally figuring out how to detach the arm, yanked it loose and set it on the workbench. At this Edward gave a small wince and rubbed his shoulder.
"If I can fly, I can certainly fix your arm," Tony answered him at last.
"What?"
"Nothing, just a figure of speech." Tony dodged the further question ready on the youth's lips. "Jarvis, do a scan for me."
"Will do, sir," came the computer's reply.
In a few minutes the scan was complete and now Tony studied it, trailed all the while by this one's sharp golden eyes. "Ah, I see…interesting design…incredible…"
"Can you fix it?" Tony straightened from where he had been bent over at the computer screen and turned to the annoyed adolescent.
"Well, absolutely." The confidence in his voice seemed reassuring to the boy. Edward sighed and sat back in the chair, gazing at the ceiling.
"I'm falling to pieces again," the blond muttered. "If Al knew…"
"Who's that?" Edward started—perhaps he thought Tony hadn't been listening.
"My brother."
"Right on."
Tony drew his attention to the completed scan, pulling the digital hologram of the prosthetic apart and surveying its inner mechanics. It was positively ingenious, and nothing he'd ever seen before. This arm made his Iron Man suit look like an action figure.
"This…might take me longer than I first thought," Tony admitted, rubbing his chin.
"How much longer?" Edward asked.
"Couple hours, maybe. This is some impressive stuff kid. Did you make this?"
"No, my dad did. I'll admit, I don't know much about it myself," Ed replied.
"Where's your old man now?"
"He passed away a little over a year ago." Edward grew silent, and Tony continued assessing the arm.
"Sorry to hear that," the billionaire said.
Edward shrugged. It was an awkward gesture to do with one arm.
"We never really saw eye-to-eye. He wasn't exactly a role model," Edward admitted.
"I know the feeling," Tony replied, "So what changed?"
Edward was silent for a moment.
"There was no one left for me to turn to," he said quietly then, "I needed his help."
Tony didn't miss a beat.
"What about your brother?"
Ed bit the inside of his cheek, his face hard. He was backed into a corner. He looked away. "He couldn't help me."
"I get it. He steal your girl or something? Sibling rivalry, is that it?" Tony guessed.
Ed looked at him in disgust. "Of course not! Al would never—" The blond broke off and looked away again. His one hand tightened into a fist. "Anyway, Al wouldn't know how to fix my arm."
"Fix it? I thought your dad built it." Tony squinted at the young man. Everything about his story contradicted itself. "Who really built it?"
Edward seemed hesitant to answer, and annoyed at himself for slipping up. Finally he sighed, relenting.
"Friend of mine from back home. She…wasn't available at the time."
"And where is she now?"
"…Germany."
"Of course." Tony raised an eyebrow. "So your friend, the genius who built this was just…what, too busy? Did you two have a nasty break up or something?"
"No! It's—it's not like that, okay?" Edward insisted, his cheeks flushing. He drew a breath to calm down and looked away again. "Look, it's…complicated…"
Tony was starting to catch on.
"You're a terrible liar, kid. Where is she really?" Tony hounded him.
"I can't tell you that," Edward replied through gritted teeth. If it wasn't for the fact that the old man had his arm, he would have stormed out by now. Tony was doing him a favor, Ed reminded himself. He supposed the least he could do was suffer the man's endless questioning.
Tony huffed in frustration. He didn't like not knowing something.
"Either she's in Germany, or she's not. So which is it?"
Ed merely clamped his mouth shut and refused to say any more.
"Ok, I'm going to go with 'not in Germany.'" Tony deduced, squinting at the boy. "So where's home, kid?"
Edward glared at the man, his eyes hard with anger. He was beginning to rethink his reasons for coming here.
"I don't have a home," the blond replied with finality, "Not anymore."
Tony seemed a bit irritated, but shrugged and rolled back to the hologram.
"Like I said, this is going to take me a couple hours," the billionaire said offhandedly, "You should soak up some of this Malibu sun in the meantime. You look like you could use the R&R."
Ed just watched him, still weary of his intentions. After a few minutes of working on the arm, it was clear the man was done with him. Ed hopped down from the chair and pulled his red coat over his shoulders.
"Door's that way," Tony said, pointing.
Ed made his way up to the ground floor. A tall red-haired woman in a dress suit and high heels met him in the living room at the top of the stairs.
"Mr. Elric," the woman greeted, her hands folded in front of her. "I'm Pepper Pots, Mr. Stark's personal assistant." Her bright green eyes alighted on the boy's missing hand, but only for a moment. They flickered back up to meet his gaze as if nothing were out of the ordinary. "Mr. Stark has instructed me to show you around while you wait."
The woman held an arm out, directing the boy in front of her. Ed complied, following her up one more flight of stairs.
"This place is huge," Edward commented, craning his neck at the high ceilings and sleek modern design. Beige and glass seemed to be a common feature.
"The pool and sauna are on the first level, as well as the gym. The study and Tony's private rooms are through there." Pepper stopped in front of a door. "If you would like to rest, you're welcome to use one of the guest rooms, whichever one you like. Should you need anything at all, either Jarvis or I can help."
"Um…" Ed began, a bit uneasily. He wasn't used to being waited on hand and foot. "Thanks." The teen flushed slightly, hesitating for a moment. "Do you have a phone I can use?" He asked. He figured he may as well call his lab partner back in Cambridge and let him know what had happened.
"Follow me," Pepper said with a small grin.
She led him into one of the many guest rooms and then left him to have his privacy. Ed dialed the number for the lab back at MIT from memory and after a few rings got the answering service. He left Sam a message and hung up.
Ed expected Pepper to be waiting for him outside in the hallway but the red-haired assistant was nowhere to be found. Edward explored the guest rooms briefly, wondering at the money the man must have, and then quickly got bored with that. Then he remembered that Pepper had mentioned a gym.
Ed exited the room and made his way back downstairs. Pepper had effectively disappeared, and he had no idea where this 'Jarvis' was, but it seemed he was alone for the time being. Restless and more than a little curious, Ed wondered if he could find what he was looking for on his own.
He began poking around, opening doors at random. He found the kitchen, a library, and what looked to be a private theatre. There was another room with lounge chairs and metal poles on a sort of stage. Ed wasn't sure what that room was for. As the blond exited this mystery room, a voice spoke from behind him.
"Looking for something?"
"Gah!" Ed jumped and spun around. "Happy! You scared me!"
Hogan peered at the blond, less than amused. "What are you doing?"
"I was looking for the gym," Edward replied truthfully.
Happy stared him down for a minute longer, trying to determine the kid's sincerity.
"Gym's this way," the bodyguard said, pointing. He led Edward down to the end of the hall and took a right.
The gym seemed pretty normal compared to the extravagance in the rest of the house, though of course no normal house would have one this large. A few punching bags hung from the ceiling, and a set of weights and a bench press were arranged neatly on a pad in the corner. In the middle of the room was a boxing ring, complete with a bell.
Ed looked around the room, feeling a little lost. He didn't normally work out just for the sake of working out. Usually he sparred with a partner…but without his brother around, he had been hard-pressed to find suitable opponents. Hogan stood behind him, arms crossed. The distrusting look from earlier was still cemented across his face, and if Ed was honest, the man's attitude was beginning to piss him off. After all, Tony was the one who had kidnapped him and who kept attempting to extort his secrets. Ed grinned devilishly to himself. Perhaps it was high time to show them that he wasn't someone so easily crossed.
Ed turned around, an innocent look on his face. He gestured toward the ring.
"Care to go a few rounds?" he asked.
The bodyguard leveled a gaze at him. "You're serious?" he asked, laughing, "I've taken down guys four times your size and you've only got the one arm. I'd squash you flat in a second, kid."
Ed shrugged, nonchalant. "Sure, why not?"
Happy shook his head in disbelief, chuckling, and uncrossed his arms.
"Alright, squirt, but don't say I didn't warn you."
Ed gritted his teeth at that, struggling to keep his composure. Mustang's advice from their battle assessment came back to him. Think your enemy has a weakness and it becomes his strength. He shrugged off his coat and shirt, leaving just the tank top underneath and climbed into the ring with Happy close behind him. He vowed to take the squirt jibe out on the pig-headed bodyguard before all was said and done. Ed stopped in the middle of the ring and looked at the burly man.
"So how does this usually work?" Ed asked.
Happy was strapping a set of boxing gloves to his hands. "Mixed martial arts, no head or crotch shots. Everything else is fair game," he explained, slipping a mouth guard into its slot and speaking around it. "You might want to gear up," he suggested.
Ed shrugged. "Naw, I'm good," he replied, "Besides, if you wait for me to get a glove on with the one hand we'll be here all day."
Happy considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "Suit yourself," he replied, "But don't expect me to go easy on you."
"Long as you don't expect me to go easy on you," Ed replied. He stepped back into a fighting stance.
Happy barked out in laugher, hitting his gloves together. "Do your worst, shorty," Happy said, holding his arms out wide.
Ed couldn't help the devious smirk that stretched across his face. He was going to make Happy regret those words.
Ed shot forward like a bullet, allowing Happy no time to raise his guard. The larger man was on his back in a matter of seconds, gasping for breath and hardly knowing what hit him. Edward loomed above him, and somehow at this angle the blond was significantly more intimidating.
"That's for calling me short," Ed growled, jabbing his finger at the man. A nasty smirk was stretched across his face.
Happy rolled to his side and stumbled to his feet.
"Caught me by surprise," Hogan said, rationalizing, "Won't happen again."
Ed shrugged. "Well okay, if you say so."
Happy ran at him, fists flying. Edward sidestepped the attack and with one fluid movement slapped his arm away and landed a blow to his kidney. Nothing crippling, just something extremely painful to teach the man a lesson. The bodyguard stumbled forward, clutching at the ropes to keep his footing and wheezing around his mouth guard.
"Come on, old man, I'm not even breaking a sweat," Edward jeered.
With a roar, Hogan whipped around, charging at Ed with renewed force. He attacked with a right-left jab combination—which Ed dodged easily—and then followed it up with a kick to Ed's hip. Ed jumped back to avoid the attack, springing back on his one hand and landing in a crouch a few feet away. He shot forward, dropping to the ground at the last second and sweeping his leg out in a wide arch. The attack took Happy down like a rock. The bodyguard hit the pad with a hard thud, leaving him winded for the third time in as many minutes.
Ed stood and looked down at him, sprawled as he was on his back with his chest heaving.
"Had enough?" he taunted.
Hogan rolled to his feet, still trying to catch his breath. The bodyguard bent in two, a hand on his hip as he drew in deep gulps of air.
"How did—you—?" he gasped. "When you're so—" Hogan broke off as he noticed the dangerous gleam in Edward's eyes that promised bodily harm should he finish that sentence the wrong way. He gestured at Ed. "Young?" he breathed instead.
Ed raised an eyebrow at the man. Clearly Happy still had some self-preservation left intact. Ed shrugged. "I had a teacher," he replied. He grinned, unable to help himself. "Don't feel so bad, I've taken down guys four times your size, and some of them were armed," Ed said. And some of them weren't even human, he thought to himself.
Happy shook his head in good-humored defeat. "Ok," he admitted, "I deserved that." He gestured to the ring. "Again," he said, "I'm gonna get you this time."
"Yeah right," Ed laughed, but dropped into a fighting stance regardless.
Four rounds later, Happy was on his back sweating bullets and wheezing painfully. The older man struggled to his knees after Ed knocked him down for something like the tenth time and hung on to the ropes as if they were his lifeline.
"Give up yet?" Ed called to him. Happy shook his head, refusing to admit defeat. Ed strode over to the winded man and regarded him with a hand on his hip. "You look like you're about to have a heart attack," the blond said with a frown. He gripped Happy by the arm and helped the man to his feet. "C'mon, I need to check how Tony's doing with his repair job anyway."
"Next time," Happy wheezed, jabbing a finger at Ed and climbing painfully out of the ring, "I'm gonna get you."
Ed rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever you say, old man," he replied.
Ed hit the showers and then trudged downstairs to see how Tony was doing. As it turned out, Tony was still tinkering with his automail when he arrived.
"Ah, Ed, I'm just about finished," Tony said, tightening a loose screw before looking up at the blond. The man grinned. "Happy mentioned you gave him a run for his money."
Ed laughed and shrugged. "A little bruised pride never hurt anyone," he replied with a grin, "but I bet he's going to be pretty sore tomorrow." The blond sat down on a stool across from Tony. "So? How is it coming?" he asked.
"It'll be good as new when I'm done," Tony replied, his sharp blue eyes trained on the limb resting on the work table.
As he worked, Tony tried several attempts to learn Ed's true heritage, but each approach, no matter how subtle, was met with high walls. Edward was very guarded about his past—which only made Tony all the more interested in finding out about it. It was obvious he wasn't getting anywhere with friendly methods, so it was time to try something sneaky.
"All done," he said, holding the limb up with a flourish. "Now we just need to reattach it." He raised an eyebrow at Ed.
Ed sighed heavily, grimacing. He hated this part. "I'll walk you through it," he said.
"Hang on, I have something that will help." Tony left for a minute and then came back with a small needle.
"What is that?" There was suspicion in the blonde's eyes as he shied away from the syringe in Tony's hands—which was to be expected.
"Harmless. Just something to dull the pain. Since I don't exactly know what I'm doing…" Tony trailed off, waiting for the kid's response.
Ed briefly weighed the merits of a painless reattachment against his dislike for needles and then came to a decision. With a nod, he allowed Tony to administer the painkiller, wincing and looking away as the needle pierced his right shoulder. While they waited for the drug to take effect, Ed explained how to reattach the arm. Then, gradually, Ed felt a sort of numbness that made his body relax and his head feel like it was floating in the clouds.
"This Mabalu sun is great," Edward slurred, leaning back in the chair.
Tony grinned. It sounded like the kid was ready.
Tony lined up the arm and shoved it back into place. Ed grunted, feeling the pain through a dense wall of fog that quickly drained away. Within minutes he forgot why he was even in the chair. He let his head hang back and sighed.
"Good thing Winry isn't here," Ed mumbled. His head lolled to the side to watch Tony as the man checked his arm's functionality. "Sie würde mich töten."
"Who's that, your girlfriend?" Tony asked, feigning ignorance. Now that the boy's guard was down he would sing like a canary—morphine had that effect on people.
"Jus' a friend. Built my arm. Not this piece of junk, the one I had back home in Resembool. Now that was some quality automail. Nobody builds 'em like the Rockbells, ya know?" Ed laughed, his words slurring. "Winry'd tear me apart if she could see the sorry state 'm in now."
"Automail, huh? And she's your age? Impressive…" It had been an insinuation only, but the blank look on the young man's face led him to believe it was true.
"Y' think that's cool, you should'a seen what we could do," Edward said with a lopsided grin, "Al 'n me, we were unstoppable. Best alchemists in the State. When we were together, wasn't anyone who could get in our way." The boy sighed and closed his eyes. "Man, I miss Al…"
Tony grinned. He never doubted his gut instinct, and once again it had led him true. This small-statured grad student was a giant of a discovery. It was obvious Edward wasn't speaking of the here and now. Usually Tony would be skeptical about the possibility of time travel—it wasn't something a respected scientist believed in—and in any other circumstances he would chalk this boy's mutterings up to mental instability, but the kid's arm was far too mechanically advanced to be from their time. That and his accent—it was something Tony had never heard before.
Edward flickered back to his senses with the oddest feeling—something along the lines of…self-inflicted betrayal. He had a vague memory of mentioning alchemy. Dread filled him. He'd been drugged! He groaned, angry with himself. After all Tony's questioning, he really should have seen that one coming. Of all the stupid, moronic—
"You're lucid, I see." Tony Stark leaned against the work bench, espresso in hand, looking very satisfied with himself. "Because I've been meaning to ask you about this Resembool you mentioned. It's a futuristic city, am I right?"
Edward's jaw dropped open for a brief moment, and then anger quickly overtook any lingering disbelief. He launched himself off the operation chair and at the man grinning smugly over his espresso. Two small but surprisingly strong hands found themselves around Tony's neck as glass and dark coffee scattered across the concrete floor.
"How could—who are you!?" Ed demanded, a wild look in his eyes. His thoughts were racing—who would want information out of him? Unless Tony was one of those—what had he called them? Time-travel freaks? Did the man honestly believe he was from the future? His grip tightened Tony grabbed his wrists, trying to pry his hands away. "What do you want with me!?" Edward yelled.
"—mmy…" Edward loosened his hands just enough to get a coherent response. "Dummy," the man repeated. Edward laughed sardonically—not something he was used to doing—perhaps the full effects of the drug hadn't quite worn off yet.
"Insulting me isn't going to save you, old man," Ed threatened, just as the pressurized coolant hit him close range.
The effect was instantaneous—Edward's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slumped, falling on Tony in a more-than-awkward position.
"Thanks Dummy," the billionaire groaned, equal amounts of sarcasm and gratitude in his voice.
It was at this unfortunate moment that Pepper Potts decided to make her entrance. She keyed her pin code into the newly reinstated glass door (the windows had been fixed as well, and she hadn't even asked about them, though it went without saying—she probably already knew…because Pepper knew everything) and stepped through to find her employer with a young male specimen sprawled on top of him, the blond's nose buried in the neck's most provocative niche.
"Tony?"
"Yeah? Christ he's heavy for such a small..." Tony was too busy rolling the unconscious grad student off of him to notice the horrified look on his assistant's face. "Oh, hi Pepper," he greeted, finally succeeding in ridding himself of this burden. Tony hopped to his feet, rubbing a hand along his neck and shooting a smile at the speechless woman in front of him. She noticed the red welts hand printed around his neck immediately and stepped closer to run a manicured finger gingerly along its length.
"What happened?"
"Nothing, he just…overreacted a bit," Tony replied.
"A bit? He could have killed you!"
"Well, luckily I have Dummy to—for lack of a better word—help." He glanced over to the robot, who, as if knowing it was being talked about, whirred slightly. "I guess you deserve some credit," Tony told the automaton. He turned back to Pepper, an amused grin on his face. "He actually missed me this time, if you can believe it."
"Is that so?" Potts sighed—she had no idea what nonsense Tony was spouting—and dropped her hand from her employer's neck. "I'm going to get something for those welts," she informed him, stepping carefully over the broken glass with an exasperated sigh and making her way back to the door. She stopped and turned around. "I came down here to ask if you wanted another place set for dinner." She glanced at the unconscious blond half sprawled on the workbench. At Tony's nod she gave a slight frown and exited the shop—clearly she didn't approve of his having a murderous young man in the house.
Tony studied Edward with something along the lines of intellectual hunger set deep in his eyes. Plans were already plotting themselves in his mind as he crossed the garage to his work station and sank into the leather swivel chair. He typed his password into the encrypted keyboard.
"Jarvis, what are the chances of being able to time travel?"
"That depends on the school of thought you prescribe to," the AI replied, "Although it is generally accepted as possible to travel through time, most posit that the chances of making it through alive are—"
"Zero to none, am I right?"
"Quite right, Sir."
Tony glanced over to the young man again, the one who had landed in this time on the lucky side of fate. If Ed could do it, then perhaps…but what would he do in the future? Save for bragging rights, Tony had no idea. And it wasn't as if he would be able to brag all that much anyway—that type of information was dangerous if not classified. Still, if only for the personal satisfaction…
Author's Notes:
2.1: The line Ed says in German means, "she would kill me."
2.2: I actually drew a map of Tony's garage using the drawing from the bonus dvd and scenes from the movie itself. The layout of the garage changes so much throughout the course of the movie that this was pretty difficult to pin down. It did allow me the freedom to arrange things the way I needed for the fic though, which was a plus.
2.3: I loved writing Ed's sparring match with Happy. It was one of the last scenes I wrote in. I felt it added a dimension that the story needed and it was super amusing, so win/win. ;)