100 Marvel One Shots✔️

Patience & Ignorance >> Happy Hogan X Reader

Title: Patience & Ignorance

Paring: Happy Hogan X Reader

Warnings: a few swear words (just sh*t), fluff, angst. Centered around Christmas since it's December and that's what all December-published fics are about these days 

Requested By: alwaysanerd77 - hope you like it!

Author's Note: I think this is one of the first Happy Hogan X Reader fics maybe ever? I can't find any record of him anywhere on Tumblr, AO3 or even other sites. 

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The end of year holiday is always the worst time of the year. People who were assholes became bigger assholes. Lines at the coffee shop down the street from work became longer. People dressed like terrible imitations of Santa rattled their jars, got photos for money, got donations for praise, sang awful carols, over, and over, and over!

It got colder, and not just outside. At work, too. Mr. Stark would be everywhere and nowhere, often neglecting his company, his place as an Avenger. As his secretary, it sucked. But then again, you hated the holiday season anyway, not even thinking about work – it was just the most terrible time of year.

Not that you're a Grinch or anything; you're just not payed enough for this shit.

And it was holidays when the heroes were needed everywhere on Earth, leading you to be manning the facility upstate with your fellow down-on-luck employee, Harry "Happy" Hogan. Like you, he'd been hardened by the job, except, literally. The poor guy had gone from regular-joe, to hell and back, to fed up – all without being a superhero. The number of times you had to fill in for his position as well as yours just because he'd been shot, injured, pissed off or knocked out while protecting Mr. Stark – well, you just didn't have enough fingers to count those occasions.

At least the miserable have company, right?

Especially since the press were hot on your tail to catch up on an official statement now that Spiderman was an official Avenger. You were just a paper-pusher! The person who picked up the trash, ordered other people's Christmas gifts in their name, and pretended to be okay with taking none of the credit. Oh, and the whole Captain America running off into the wind after the kerfuffle in Germany? That was on you to tell them, now that the old secretary Ms. Potts was now officially with your employer.

"You look like you need another coffee," someone says.

You glance up from your work station to see it's Happy. He's in the suit he always wears, the 2005-esq glasses tucked where a handkerchief would be if anyone used one these days. There's a five o'clock shadow on his jaw, and a twitch in his eye. Looks like someone else has been working late nights too, well, you must, to keep up with everything.

"What I need is a pay raise," you mutter, pushing the keyboard from you, going to stand. "And a word with these assholes. First that kid rejects being an Avenger, now he is one? The media will eat me alive if I don't perfect this by ten freakin' minutes ago."

Happy gives you one of his humourless smiles. "I'll grab you that coffee."

You sigh, pushing a hand through your hair. Before you upon the screen is an empty document, the title on the word processor the subject of what press release you are stating on behalf of the superheroes that brave and save the American people. The curser lazily pulses, empty of words, waiting for you to procure them like they can be bought, or magicked up like you're some fancy sorcerer and not a typist.