My Neighbor, Mr. Rogers

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Jimmy Blue Eyes

"I just can't stand him."

I roll my eyes at Tony's declaration. He'd come down about twenty minutes ago to pout after losing an argument to Steve about something that I'd already forgotten.

Tony, oblivious to said eye roll, crosses his arms and continues. "He just follows orders. He isn't an independent thinker. And have you seen the outfit? Ridiculous."

"I don't believe you," I sing. "I saw the Iron Patriot. Nice paint job, I thought. Rather reminiscent of a certain historical figure though..."

"I had nothing to do with that!" he protests. "That was some promotional thing."

"Sure you didn't, Tony, sure you didn't," I condescend.

He huffs but doesn't get a chance to respond.

James strolls through the door with a cardboard take-out box in hand. "Dr. Banner wants to see you, Stark. Something about having a thought about electro stuff...maybe an ion thing... He said to meet him in the lab."

Tony stares dryly at him. "You certainly have the memory of a ninety-year-old."

James shrugs. "Didn't care enough to remember the particulars." He sits down in the chair by my bed. "Oh, he also mentioned that he made some progress on identifying the components of the inhibition serum they gave Anne."

Tony rolls his eyes, beleaguered. "Next time, just have JARVIS pass on the message." He walks quickly out of the room, leaving me with James and something that smells delightful.

"What'd ya bring the invalid?" I ask lazily.

Being confined to bed rest for the past three days has driven me nuts. Sure, the boys had brought my books, all of them, along with the rest of the contents of my apartment – apparently I'll be staying in Stark Tower for the foreseeable future. But after the time I spent at, um, the other place and being stuck in this room... well, I just want to go for a walk in the park. But the gang doesn't leave me alone much; which is both sweet and annoying. They probably think I'll have a break down – and I might – but I need to be alone to process...stuff. And I haven't been given that chance.

James drums his metal fingers on the lid. "Fresh cookies from that bakery a couple of streets over."

"Fran's?" I ask, this time with excitement. Fran's has some ah-may-zing baked goods and I haven't had anything except "healthy" hospital food for three days (a small eternity for someone who has subsided on mostly junk food for the greater part of the last several years).

He nods.

"What kind?" I question as I reach for the box.

James doesn't hand it to me. "Chocolate crinkle, with strings."

I furrow my brow. I love chocolate crinkle cookies, but- "Strings? What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'll give them to you but I want something in return."

Wondering what he could want from me, I drop my hand and think. I meet his eyes slowly as I remember a previous deal we had made. "Is this about what we talked about in the gym – you know, before? Because I thought I still have a week or so left for that and I sort of have a doctor's note for the week I've missed so far."

He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head minutely. "No, but thanks for reminding me."

I poke my tongue out at him.

Cabin fever, man. It'll loosen you up.

"You're being pretty, normal, for you at least."

"Isn't that a good thing?" I look away. I know where he's going with this.