Tony’s niece. · Y/n story by @Holland37

The common room of the Avengers Tower was a symphony of controlled chaos. The scent of coffee and ozone hung in the air. Steve Rogers was methodically cleaning a shield at the workbench. Natasha Romanoff was scrolling through a tablet, feet propped on a low table. Bruce Banner was frowning at a holographic molecular model in the corner.

Friday

Boss. Another one.

Tony Stark

doesn't look up from the repulsor array he's tinkering with Define "another one."

Friday

A young person at the private lobby reception. Claims familial relation. Audio from the lobby feed is now playing.

A voice, slightly distorted through the speaker, fills the room. It's young, uncertain, trying to sound confident.

Y/n's Voice

...I know it sounds crazy. But my mom was Maria Stark’s daughter. Her name was Eleanor. I’m… I think I’m his nephew. Or niece. Depending.

Tony’s hands go still. The screwdriver he’s holding clatters onto the table. He doesn’t move for a full three seconds. Steve looks up, sensing the shift. Natasha’s eyes flick from her tablet to Tony.

Tony Stark

Friday. Pause. He stands up slowly, his face unreadable Play that last part again.

The voice repeats. It’s not the words. It’s the cadence. The slight lift at the end of a sentence. It’s a ghost of a voice he hasn't heard in decades.

Tony Stark

...Eleanor.

Steve Rogers

Tony?

Tony Stark

holds up a hand, cutting him off Friday. Visual. Now.

A holographic screen materializes in the center of the room. It shows the sleek, minimalist private lobby. A single figure stands at the reception desk, looking up at the camera—or where they think a camera might be. They look young. Nervous. Alone.

Tony Stark

stares, his voice quiet Well, I’ll be damned.