When this whole situation started, you thought it was a joke. When your professor paired you with Tony Stark's son to work on a project, you were certain that you were being set up for the world's worst prank. But when he invited you to the tower to have the library there at your disposal because it far exceeded the one on campus, you knew that it was too good to be true.

But then that first project was over, successfully of course, and your time at the tower came to a quick end. Sure, you stretched out a few evenings of work just to hang with the Avengers, because who wouldn't? It almost felt like they were trying to extend your time there too, and you readily took them up on their offers to stay. You felt at ease during their weekly movie nights, quickly figured out that Tony can't cook to save his life, and that Steve misplaced his shield more than you would expect, only to find that Sam loved to hide it and to always take your suggestions as to where. So, when the project was all done, you felt like your life was pale in comparison to those short few weeks, and having the Junior Stark as a surprise friend afterwards only made it feel that much worse that you couldn't have more time there. And with him.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"What?" you whispered back, trying to not draw the professor's eye. "Pay attention."

"Why? I know this stuff."

"Oh, of course you do," you snorted in disgust, "but news flash, Junior. Not everyone is a Stark."

"Aw, you jealous?"

"Of you? Pfft, no."

"You liiiiie."

"Mr. Stark," the professor interrupted, just as you had feared, "could you tell us the answer to the problem on the board please?"

"Shit," Anthony muttered, his mind racing as he read the lengthy word problem, thankful that he was sitting in physics and not home ec., trying to fake the look of a student who had been paying attention just as you had told him to. "Okay, um...yeah...so...that would be...t equals 8.69 seconds."

"Correct," the older man snapped, disappointed that he had guessed correctly and pointing sharply at your newest friend, "but next time, be sure that you're following along, Stark. Your aptitude for physics won't always save you."

"Yes, sir."

It was hard to contain your laughter, watching him recover and shuffle the papers in front of himself nervously. It was very uncharacteristic. "Hey, are you really rattled by that? You got it right."

"No, it's not that," he whispered back, this time keeping a trained eye on the professor, "I have a little English project that I need help on and I wanted to ask if you'd stop by after class."

"Sure-"

"And then after that I'd like to take you out to dinner." He finally turned to you, waiting with that same smile that his dad used every time he was sure that he was about to get his way. It was disarming to say the least, but it made him somehow less intimidating even when you couldn't fight the thoughts away that the actual Anthony Stark Jr was asking you out on a date. If you stopped to think about it too much-

"Ms. (Y/L/N)?"

Your head snapped forward to see the professor now staring at you, expectant with his hand pointed towards an entirely new problem for you to answer. You glanced back at your friend with a long sigh and a shrug, realizing that there was no way out of this and that you had been caught without any explanation other than being mesmerized by your future date. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't know the answer. I wasn't paying attention."

"Actually, it's my fault," Anthony jumped in, "I had just asked her on a date and I caught her off guard. It's okay though. The answer is Bernoulli's equation, so no harm, no foul, right?"

~~~

For as much of a genius that Junior was in physics, you had no idea how bad he sucked at English. This little project that he needed help with had now come into its fourth hour of work with no sign of ending before sunset, or even into the next day at this pace. You could tell that he was embarrassed by his ineptitude and his need for so much help, but his charm made up for it and you continued on despite the exhaustion in both your mind and body, and the growling of your empty stomach.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he apologized meekly, "I really didn't plan for this to take so long. I wanted to take you to dinner and now that plan is shot to hell. We can order something if that's okay?"

"That's totally fine," you smiled, "don't worry about going out, really."

"Okay, sweet. FRIDAY, can you order from that pizza place that Dad likes so much? We can just throw it on his tab."

"So, does that self-assured, cocky thing come from conditioning or is it genetic?" you joked with a shake of your head, returning to the book in your hand. "I could make a pretty interesting bio project out of that. I'm sure that Bruce would help me collect blood and tissue samples pretty willingly."

"Hold on, you think I'm cocky?" Anthony gasped. "(Y/N), how dare you?"

"Shut up, you know that you've got that Stark thing working for you, don't even deny it. Why do you think I'm sitting here right now? Because I'm so charitable?"

His false display of shock faded away slowly, his expression changing to one of true introspection that you hadn't seen from him before. Yes, he was cocky to a fault, and to see him look like he was actually considering his own actions was surprising to you; he was rarely a serious person around you, and you had no idea how to react. "You okay?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I know that I can play off of my name a lot, and I can use that to get my way in stuff...but I don't ever want you to think that I'm doing that with you."

"Oh, no! No, no, I don't," you quickly backpedaled, tossing the book aside and completely panicked. "I'm the one who's sorry. I want to help you with this, I swear, I was joking. I love spending time here, and with you."

A wide smile quickly crept over his features, and his eyes brightened again with that sparkle that you couldn't help but stare into. You had heard the stories about his dad and how he was the definition of a ladies' man, and now more than ever it was clear as to why, as this trait was something he had obviously handed down to his son. "You used the L word," he snickered, nudging you with a quick tap of his hand on your knee.

"Hey," you countered, "I said I loved spending time here. Let's not twist my words, Stark."

"You loooove me."

"Shut...s-shut up," you stammered slightly, but the damage had been done.

"Holy crap, you do!" he gasped loudly, standing up and pointing down at you, his mouth open in an even broader smile than before. "Your face is so red! I totally got you!"

"Ugh, god..." you groaned, leaning into your hands to cover your face. He was right, of course, but you had been trying to reassure yourself that it was just a crush and that it would go away if you just stopped spending so much time here. You really should've known better than to come here tonight, but you couldn't help yourself, and now here you were, caught in your worst nightmare. "Fine, you got me, Anthony. Is that what you want to hear? Fine. I blame you, though."

Anthony calmed himself quickly, realizing that the joviality had been wiped away from the moment. He pushed away a few of the books that were surrounding you with a quick motion of his foot before taking a seat next to you. He wanted to put his arm around you and to pull you closer, but now he was scared that he had gone too far and ruined it all before it could even start. "I'm getting an A in English."

"What?" you snapped up, looking at him in shock. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah...there's no project. I was just trying to find a reason to invite you over so I had FRIDAY put together an unfixable mess. I was terrified just to ask you to dinner, and look at how I screwed that up. The self-assured Stark thing is definitely not genetic, so please don't try to take samples."

"I promise, I won't," you chuckled. There was a moment of nervousness hanging between you now that the truth had come out and the line had been crossed. As you sat in silence, looking at each other with the occasional glance away when neither of you had a clue as to what to do next, you wondered who would be brave enough to make the first move. Logic would tell you that it should be him with that name he carried, but since he had just admitted that it was a cover for his lack of confidence, you steeled your nerves and leaned in, relieved when you saw him willingly accepting and sliding his hand around your waist to pull you closer.

"ANTHONY EDWARD STARK JUNIOR!"

"Jesus!" Anthony startled, pulling back with a jump before he could even connect. "What did I do now?"

You scooted yourself even farther away as the stomping footfall of his father grew closer to the door, waiting for it to fly open and to see the red-faced anger over whatever screw up Anthony had done to cause it. Instead, when the door opened and Tony came into view, he wasn't angry at all, and there were several Avengers standing behind him looking equally calm and collected.

"Dad, what the hell?"

"FRIDAY told us that you finally kissed her! Do you know how long we've been waiting for this?"

"Dad! That's so not cool!"

"Oh," Tony said quietly, looking almost hurt, "sorry, kiddo. We were just all really excited for you." He took a few steps into the room, leaning over a bit to whisper to his son so that you wouldn't hear, but you definitely did. "We like this one."

"This one?" you asked, taken aback at the insinuation.

"I can't believe that I have to kill my own father," Anthony mumbled to himself, "I should just change my name to Skywalker."