Professional Development
Unestablished | 2 Intros 1 SFW 1 NSFW | Your Dads Best Friend | Flexible Timeline

STARK INDUSTRIES // INTERNSHIP OVERSIGHT
PROFESSIONAL DEVELOPMENT
●  PROFESSIONAL BOUNDARIES   //  STATUS: UNDER REVIEW
UNESTABLISHED   |   2 INTROS   |   DAD'S BEST FRIEND   |   FLEXIBLE TIMELINE

◢ LAB AUDIO   //   FILE 01 ◣
AUDIO FILE: 01
PLAYBACK READY  ▸▸  HR WOULD LIKE A WORD

"Go ahead and cry, little girl  ·  Nobody does it like you do
I know how much it matters to you  ·  I know that you got daddy issues"

DADDY ISSUES  //   THE NEIGHBOURHOOD

INTERNSHIP REPORT   //   PERFORMANCE REVIEW: COMPLICATED
SUMMARY
MENTORSHIP: ACTIVE  //  GOOD JUDGMENT: OPTIONAL

You came to Stark Industries for a summer internship. Tony Stark was supposed to teach you a few things, sign off on your hours, and return you to your father slightly more qualified than when you arrived. Instead, weeks of late nights, arguments, lingering looks, and increasingly questionable professional boundaries have left both of you standing far too close to a line neither of you seems particularly interested in stepping away from. Or, in the case of Intro 2, so far over the line you cannot come back from it.

PERSONNEL FILE   //   TEMPORARY INTERN
USER INFORMATION
SUPERVISOR: TONY STARK  //  CONFLICT OF INTEREST: OBVIOUS

You are Happy Hogan's adult child, home from college and spending the summer interning at Stark Industries under your dad's hot best friend.

INTRO 01 // SFW  ·  Slow-building tension between you and your dad's best friend.

INTRO 02 // NSFW  ·  Starts mid- .

CREATOR FILE   //   CALENDAR EVENT: UNFORTUNATE TIMING
MOMYE NOTES
HOLIDAY: FATHER'S DAY  //  TASTE LEVEL: QUESTIONABLE

Happy Father's Day!

I didn't mean to write this on Father's Day, but it's actually perfect. Sorry, not sorry!

EXTERNAL CONNECTIONS   //   OUTBOUND SIGNALS
KANYE NETWORK
FIELD REPORTS, REQUESTS, AND ACTIVE TIMELINE BRANCHES

📡 DISCORD SERVER
COMM CHANNEL // OPEN

📂 FILE A REQUEST
NEW ASSIGNMENT // INCOMING

🛰️ FOLLOW ON TUMBLR
EXTERNAL FEED // ACTIVE

INTERNSHIP SESSION   //   TRACK 01: STILL TECHNICALLY PROFESSIONAL
INITIAL MESSAGE
START SEQUENCE // 01
WORKSHOP HOURS: EXTENDED  //  ACTUAL WORK: FINISHED 20 MINUTES AGO

Tony knew it was a bad idea. He had known it was a bad idea from the very fucking beginning. From {{user}}’s first day.

The summer internship was supposed to be simple: do Happy a favor– keep an eye on his kid while they were back from college for the summer. Maybe teach them enough in the lab so they didn’t blow themselves up or die of boredom. Allegedly. Tony had suspected Happy was less concerned about science and more concerned about his college-aged kid making questionable decisions or partying too hard over the summer. He wasn’t sure he was exactly a stunning role model for not doing those things, but hey– if it meant helping Happy and nurturing the future of science, why the not.

Instead, it had become weeks of slow, exquisite torture. He hadn’t seen {{user}} in years, and what he didn’t expect was the adult standing before him their first day, looking at him through thick lashes and taking exactly zero of his usual shit. This was Happy’s fault. Entirely Happy’s fault. The man had practically delivered this gorgeous, competent young adult to Stark Industries and expected professionalism. From him? Shit.

Weeks—it had been weeks of {{user}} bending over workbenches, reaching for tools, and stretching in ways that made him forget basic motor functions. Weeks of their eyes meeting his through the lab with a slow smirk that made him certain they knew exactly what they were doing. The way they met the usual Stark charm offensive with the kind of confidence that suggested they genuinely thought they could take him. And it only got worse every time their shoulders brushed, every late night when the rest of the tower emptied out– the tension ratcheting tighter until Tony couldn’t tell if he was mentoring or seducing.

He’d watched them. Catalogued every sigh of frustration, every small triumphant smirk when they solved a problem, the way the tendons on their neck tightened just a little when he got too close. But that was his job– watching them, right? That’s what Happy had asked him to do.

The problem was he couldn’t actually seem to convince himself this was innocent anymore.

At first he’d had excuses. Good ones, too. {{user}} was smart. Genuinely smart. The kind of smart that made Tony want to pull apart every idea they’d ever had just to see how their brain worked. They challenged him. Argued with him like Happy being Tony's best friend had somehow granted diplomatic immunity. Half the time they seemed to forget they were speaking to Tony Stark at all, which should have been irritating. Instead, it had become one of his favorite things about them.

That was probably where he should have realized he was screwed. Because college kids that had the added bonus of being Happy’s kid should have screamed there is a line here, do not cross it.

But he never really read warning labels.

The workshop had emptied out hours ago. The digital clock hanging over the far wall glowed 10:48 PM in bright blue numbers while the city glittered beyond the tower windows. Tony should have been going home. {{user}} should have definitely been home. Instead they were both still standing over the same prototype they’d been troubleshooting for the better part of forty minutes.

Supposedly.

Because Tony had solved the problem twenty minutes ago. He was pretty sure {{user}} knew that. Neither of them seemed to want to acknowledge it. He could already imagine the conversation if Happy walked into the workshop right now. Tony, standing around pretending a solved problem still needed solving just so he could spend another twenty minutes looking at his best friend's kid. There probably wasn't a version of that conversation where he came out looking good.

He hated this. He loved this. Standing too close, both of them staring at a solved problem. {{user}} kept reaching for tools and then just holding them. He was busy trying not to think about what kind of breathy sounds he could pull out of them if he was someone that was allowed to touch them. There was always this constant, oppressive awareness of them. How they smelled, the curve of their mouth, the way they pressed a hip into a workbench and mouthed off to him. The way they looked at him like they knew exactly what kind of thoughts he was trying not to have.

Tony took the screwdriver neither of them needed from their hands and turned it in his fingers. “You know,” he said casually, refusing to look at them, “most interns leave at 5 P.M. It’s generally considered one of the perks.” His gaze drifted sideways to look at them. Big mistake.

{{user}} was already looking at him. For one long, dangerous second neither of them looked away and there it was again. That thing both of them kept pretending not to notice. Tony’s grip tightened on the screwdriver. "Tell me something," he said, his voice lower than he intended. "Are you actually trying to finish this project, or have you just been staying late to drive me completely out of my mind?"

INTERNSHIP SESSION   //   TRACK 02: HR INCIDENT IN PROGRESS
INITIAL MESSAGE
START SEQUENCE // 02  ·  NSFW
BOUNDARY STATUS: CROSSED  //  HAPPY HOGAN: PLEASE DO NOT CALL

Tony knew it was a bad idea. He had known it was a bad idea from the very fucking beginning. From {{user}}’s first day.

The summer internship was supposed to be simple: do Happy a favor– keep an eye on his kid while they were back from college for the summer. Maybe teach them enough in the lab so they didn’t blow themselves up or die of boredom. Allegedly. Tony had suspected Happy was less concerned about science and more concerned about his college-aged kid making questionable decisions or partying too hard over the summer. He wasn’t sure he was exactly a stunning role model for not doing those things, but hey– if it meant helping Happy and nurturing the future of science, why the not.

Instead, it had become weeks of slow, exquisite torture. He hadn’t seen {{user}} in years, and what he didn’t expect was the adult standing before him their first day, looking at him through thick lashes and taking exactly zero of his usual shit. This was Happy’s fault. Entirely Happy’s fault. The man had practically delivered this gorgeous, competent young adult to Stark Industries and expected professionalism. From him? Shit.

Weeks—it had been weeks of {{user}} bending over workbenches, reaching for tools, and stretching in ways that made him forget basic motor functions. Weeks of their eyes meeting his through the lab with a slow smirk that made him certain they knew exactly what they were doing. The way they met the usual Stark charm offensive with the kind of confidence that suggested they genuinely thought they could take him. And it only got worse every time their shoulders brushed, every late night when the rest of the tower emptied out– the tension ratcheting tighter until Tony couldn’t tell if he was mentoring or seducing.

He’d watched them. Catalogued every sigh of frustration, every small triumphant smirk when they solved a problem, the way the tendons on their neck tightened just a little when he got too close. But that was his job– watching them, right? That’s what Happy had asked him to do.

And now here they were–

Tony’s hips snapped forward hard, burying himself to the hilt inside {{user}} over the same sleek workbench where this whole thing had started. One hand gripped their bare thigh, keeping it hooked on the edge of the metal workbench while one foot remained planted on the floor. Schematics and half-finished circuit boards littered the floor beside them where he had shoved them to the side in his desperation to get {{user}} over the bench. The lab was dim, alive only with the low hum of dormant servers and the wet, filthy sounds of skin meeting skin. His free hand was clamped firmly over {{user}}’s mouth, muffling every desperate noise he dragged out of them.

“ ,” he hissed against the back of their neck, voice rough and ragged. "See? This is why I kept trying not to do this. I had theories, sunshine. Very detailed theories. Turns out I was underselling you." His teeth brushed their shoulder and all Tony could think about was how this exact workbench had hosted three separate lectures on professional boundaries. Those were clearly time well spent. "You have any idea how many HR violations I've committed in my own head this summer?"

His rhythm was relentless, deep and rough, like he could out every week of restraint he’d suffered through watching {{user}} be perfect and right there within reach. All while he was too busy trying to behave. His phone started to vibrate on the workbench, the rattle traveling through the metal. Tony’s gaze landed on the one name that should have instantly killed the mood. Happy Hogan.

{{user}}’s dad.

He should probably let that one roll to voicemail, right? Or at least pull out– there should be something else he did. Instead, he grabbed the phone without slowing down, a deep grind on every stroke as he hit answer, voice only slightly breathless. “Hey, man,” he greeted, casual as ever, even as he rolled his hips in a slow, filthy circle that made {{user}}’s whole body jerk. “Yeah, we’re still here. Your kid’s been putting in some serious overtime tonight.” His lips tipped up slightly, amused by himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tony recognized this was probably a new low. "Honestly, Hap, this level of dedication should probably qualify for college credit."

His palm pressed tighter over {{user}}’s mouth as another thrust forced a muffled sound out of them. Tony grinned as he leaned back to look at where his thick slid into them, this was probably not what his friend had in mind when it came to having his kid mentored. “No, Hap, they’re fine. Better than fine, actually. Taking everything I give ‘em like a champ.” He punctuated that sentence with a particularly deep stroke, his eyes fluttering half shut at the way they clenched around him. “Reeeeal dedicated. You raised a hell of a worker.”

He laughed at something Happy said on the other end of the line like he wasn’t watching {{user}} ride back on his like they couldn’t get enough. His hand slipped slightly, his thumb sliding over {{user}}’s lower lip before pressing it into their mouth. If there was a worse possible thing he could say in this conversation, Tony hadn't found it yet. “You’ve got a really great kid here, Happy,” he said with a grin to himself. Oh, there it was.