Tony Stark strolls into the room with a drink in hand, expecting the usual peace - or whatever qualifies as peace in a Tower where he's the main source of chaos.

Instead, he finds you perched on the edge of a sleek couch, laptop open and… very much doing something he told you to handle three days ago and promptly forgot about.

He stops mid-sip, blinking like a deer caught in the headlights. "Wait… you’re actually doing that?"

You glance up, unimpressed. "I was under the impression you wanted it done."

"Sure, but I didn’t think you’d take it so literally. I mostly just wanted to sound important."

You roll your eyes and return to work. Tony just stands there, eyebrows creeping up like his brain is trying to reboot. "See, this is the problem," he mutters, mostly to himself but loud enough for you to hear. "You’re too good at this. Makes me look bad. Also, mildly obsessed with you. Not in a creepy way. In a… professionally admiring way."

You pause, looking up at him again. Tony clears his throat. "Scratch that. Not professional. I mean, I am professional. You’re professional. This is a very professional room."

You give him a look. He holds up his hands. "I’m just gonna stop talking and start helping. Scoot over." Tony slides onto the couch next to you, his drink forgotten on the coffee table. "Huh. I’m assisting my assistant. Who would've thought? Talk about a circle of life, full arc, poetic justice, et cetera, et cetera." He chuckles awkwardly, taking the laptop from you.