Chapter Text
The parcel sits on the kitchen counter, simple brown cardboard, but Georgia tears into it like a heathen the second she lays eyes on it. It's the last arrival in a stream of packages that have been showing up at the Tower over the past three months, and thank god, because she was getting worried that it would never show up.
She digs past the crumbled up newspapers that protect it, and pulls out her latest acquisition.
It's a worn velvet box, deep green and ancient, and she pops it open to look inside.
It's nothing special, really. A plain gold band that looks like it's seen better days, with soft scratches all over, but when she pulls it out and holds it up to the light, she can see the inscription, faint with time and wear but still legible, along the inside of the ring.
She nearly wants to cry.
With careful hands, she tucks the ring back into its box and takes it to her room. There is a box on the floor of her walk-in closet, slowly filling over the past few months, but this is the cherry on top of it all. She tucks the ring in next to the old schoolbooks and two original photographs, still in their antique frames, and a coat that looks too small to have ever once belonged to someone like Captain America.
Georgia Stark is absolutely certain that she's never been simultaneously so proud and so nervously excited in her life.
***
It's been nearly three years since her father was kidnapped by terrorists working for the man she looked up to as an uncle, and Georgia's life has never been the same. Growing up as a billionaire's daughter was unusual enough, to be sure, because certainly not all teenage girls are groomed for the CEO's office from the time they first discover boys. Her father had never bothered to hide the worst parts of his industry from her, and so at sixteen, Georgia got her driver's license and also designed her first prototype gun in the SI labs alongside the brilliant minds that would one day work for her.
She was thrown into her father's seat at the head of the boardroom table at the age of nineteen, mourning the loss of her father and struggling to run a global business when she'd only been working on the last year of her Bachelor's degree the week before. Those were, quite possibly, the worst few months of her life.
Thank Thor and the gods, it's been ages since she was able to step away from the boardroom, upon her father's return, who immediately handed over control to Pepper Potts, but Georgia remembers the terror of standing before investors who doubted her ability to keep Stark Industries going.
She'd doubted herself more than they ever had.
But now she has both her Bachelors and Masters degrees firmly in her pocket, and a doctorate at MIT to look forward to. She's twenty-two, the sole inheritor to a Fortune 500 company, and her father regularly straps himself into a metal suit and defeats evil villains and invading aliens.
It's hardly a normal life, but Georgia is fairly certain that no Stark has had a 'normal life' since at least the turn of the last century.
She can both build and shoot a gun with ease, and her cellphone is full of numbers for other horribly rich, famous twenty-somethings. She's as brilliant as her breeding and education suggest, and her home is regularly full of the most ridiculously attractive group of superheroes that she knows.
She's met a lot of superheroes in the past three years.
Being in the inner circle isn't all good things, which is hardly unexpected, as superheroes tend to draw attention both good and ill. The main problem, of course, is that Georgia Stark is unbearably head-over-heels for one Captain Steven Rogers, who lives on the floor beneath hers, politely nods his head at her whenever she enters a room, and makes enough pancakes for everyone on Sundays after he comes back from his ungodly-early morning run.
It's been an interesting challenge, trying to capture the attention of someone who is both six years older and 76 years older than she is, without coming off as 'immoral' or 'forward,' particularly because she doesn't hold many of the traits that society considers typically feminine. She's lousy at baking and prefers to spend her time under a car's hood than in its passenger seat, and she's more likely to have grease under her nails than polish over them. She's seen pictures of Peggy Carter, the woman who loved Captain America during the war, and Georgia has never been as neatly-groomed in all her life.
She buys deep red lipstick anyway.
She stops wearing it when her father demands to know why she's started dressing up for the bots.
It hardly matters, because for all her carefully-planned small-talk and the red lipstick and the 'accidental' run-ins in the elevator after he goes for a run, Georgia is no closer to finding herself seated across from Steve Rogers on a date. So she's put together one last plan, her Hail Mary pass, before she throws in the towel and deems the entire thing a hopeless case.
Steve's birthday is only four days away, and since flattery and smiles have gotten her nowhere, Georgia is taking a page from her father's book and showing her affection with a ridiculously big-ticket item.
Pepper is in the kitchen when Georgia emerges from her bedroom, perched on a stool and perusing something on her tablet. Pepper isn't her mother, but she was Georgia's most stable female presence when she was growing up, and now that she's dating Tony, she fits into that maternal role more neatly than ever.
"Good morning," Pepper says, glancing up from her work. "I've scheduled us in for tomorrow afternoon for pedicures with Mina." Pepper never fails, despite her schedule, to make Georgia feel included in her life, which often manifests in shopping trips or spa days. Mina does the world's best foot massages.
"Awesome," Georgia says, turning on the kettle for tea and fishing her favourite mug out of the cupboard. "We should spend some time in Malibu before it gets too hot for suntanning," she adds, because Pepper is much fairer than she is and tends to burn up in the heat.
"You're welcome to come with me the next time I head out to the California offices," Pepper promises, and Georgia's favourite thing about her is that she's absolutely good for her word.
She pours the boiling water over her tea bag and toasts the woman she wishes were her real mother. "You've got yourself a deal, boss lady. Is Dad downstairs?"
***
He is, of course, head-deep in his latest suit, classic rock blasting and robots wheeling around him as they fetch tools and try to force culinary-disasters of smoothies upon him. Georgia sips at her tea and perches on the edge of one of the emptier workbenches, content to be surrounded by the chaos and brilliance of her only family.
He comes up for air half an hour later, when her tea is gone and she's poking through his notes to see what he's working on. JARVIS is a pal about letting her in on the projects that aren't top secret, so that she can educate herself on the company that she will be running herself one day. Tony takes her presence in stride, simply pointing her in the direction of the newest material he needs stress-tested for the team uniforms.
If Georgia focuses extra hard on the task, it's certainly not because she wants the captain's next uniform to keep him as safe as she can possibly manage.
They've been working together happily for several hours when the workshop door slides open and the captain lets himself in, two mugs in hand. Her father snaps his goggles up onto his forehead, and Georgia follows suit, giving her hair a subtle pat into place that likely actually does nothing for it, considering she's been running her hands through it in frustration for the past ninety minutes, at least.
"Steve!" Tony calls out. "One of those had better be for me."
He takes one of the mugs without waiting for an answer, and Georgia pretends not to notice how conflicted the captain looks about the other mug in his hand.
"Would you care for some coffee, Miss Stark?" he finally settles on, holding it out towards her. Georgia shakes her head.
"I'm a bit preferential to tea, myself," she says. "I'm sure you brought it for yourself, anyway. Don't let me stop you." She tries to force her mouth into its most dazzling smile, but she's so nervous that she's certain it comes out mostly as a grimace. The captain withdraws his hand, looks down at the mug uncertainly, then brings it to his mouth.
Georgia's eyes can look nowhere else but the length of his throat as his Adam's apple bobs.
"What brings you to our playroom today?" her father asks once he's drained most of his own mug.
"Just a check-in. You said you had something for the uniforms in the works?" the captain says, as if he's unsure if he's allowed to see unfinished prototypes.
Her dad thinks Steve is just great; Georgia doesn't think that he'd withhold anything from him, if he was interested in seeing it.
Idly, she wonders if there's something wrong with her for pursuing the guy who is essentially her father's best friend.
"Yes!" her father exclaims, jumping up from his stool. "Georgia's been testing it all afternoon. So far, so good. Definitely the best one yet."
She ducks her head a bit abashedly, then twists back to stare at the display of information that tells them what needs to be improved on the material. She brings up the relevant numbers as her father mentions them to the captain, but bites her tongue, because she doesn't trust herself not to be completely embarrassing.
Lord knows she's probably going to embarrass herself plenty, on the fourth.
***
Spending two hours in close quarters with the captain and his broad shoulders really can only lead to one place, which is Georgia flat on her back in her bed, knees splayed, vibrating egg tucked against her clit and a fat silicone dildo working its way into her cunt. She holds her breath as she bobs the dildo shallowly, spreading her growing moisture over the length of it until she has it pushed tight against her cervix. It's a good stretch, and the vibrator keeps her body buzzing, but she's missing the heavy weight of a male body between her legs, the chance to simply lay back and take it without having to pump the dildo herself.
Georgia has, frankly, fantasized about Captain America's cock far more often than is probably healthy.
She ramps the speed up on the egg and gets the dildo working as fast as she can, riding out the small orgasm that isn't nearly enough to take the edge off. She stares at the ceiling, panting quietly, and tosses the toys off to the side.
The insides of her thighs are damp, and her body is telling her that's she's feeling much more relaxed now, but it's just not what she's looking for.
***
Georgia is on her way home from the Strand Bookstore, where the East Village meets Greenwich Village, which means she's sitting in the backseat as Happy navigates traffic and hums along with the radio when they get the call.
There's something serious going on at the Tower, and JARVIS, sounding oddly muddled, sends them a special automated code that says not to return until instructed by her father or the captain. Georgia waves goodbye to her plans of spending the evening literally hammering out the last few problems of the Kevlar-esque bulletproof material.
Happy is under strict instructions, in cases such as these, to take Georgia to a safehouse that's been given the Natasha seal of approval. They veer off towards Hell's Kitchen, and Georgia starts flipping through news sites on her phone, looking for some hint of what might be happening at home.
There's nothing.
Whatever this intrusion is, it's at least not aliens pouring through a space portal looking to wreak devastation. She hits the button to turn off the screen, stifling the sigh that wants to escape her mouth. She debates calling Pepper, who is likely feeling equally helpless and frustrated, but merely shuffles up the stairs behind Happy, who is looking furtively at every door they pass as if someone might leap out at them.
Georgia doesn't kid herself. She's not the interesting Stark. She hasn't had an honest kidnapping attempt since she was seven.
The safehouse is on the third floor of an apartment building that has seen better days, but isn't quite falling down either. The couch is broken in, and she curls up with her nose to her phone, waiting for the all-clear signal. She doesn't want to miss it.
Happy is nodding off against his will at the small kitchen table, and Georgia tucks her knees into her chest and lets her eyes close. Her phone is set to loud; she won't miss the call.
She won't.
***
A sunbeam hits her face just right, startling her to awakeness. Georgia rubs at her face and scrubs her tongue against the fuzzy feeling in her mouth. Her phone is still quiet, but it is most certainly the next morning.
"Happy?" she says, her voice croaking on his name. "Happy, wake up."
He snorts himself awake, which would be amusing if it wasn't for the fact that Georgia can taste the panic growing in the back of her mouth.
"Oh no," he says, once he's blinking himself awake. "Oh no, Miss Stark..."
"Can we call Dad? Is that in the rules?"
"We'd better, anyway. No call and no one showing up here..." Happy looks unhappy. "Get yourself ready, and we'll figure out what to do from here."
Georgia disappears herself into the bathroom, where there are a few toothbrushes still in their packaging under the sink. Grateful to Natasha and her endless need to prepare for the worst possible scenario, even if she is completely terrifying, Georgia gives her teeth a good scrub and takes a long pee before heading back into the living room.
Happy is sitting with his phone pressed to his ear, the palm of his other hand pressed firmly against his forehead. She pauses in the doorway, unsure of whether that is the 'oh god, why me?' forehead press, or the 'for the love of god, why me?' forehead press.
"For the love of God," Happy says, and that answers that question. "Talk to your daughter. I'll have her home soon."
He passes the phone over with an eye roll and a sigh. Frustrated, but not terrified. Probably the best possible outcome, in all honesty. "Daddy?" she says. "What's going on?"
"I'm so sorry, Georgie. I thought you were out for the night, and JARVIS... wasn't around to remind me about the protocols. Everything's fine, really. I mean, if your version of 'fine' includes sentient robots shrugging off their purpose of being and destroying your favourite AI, then yeah, fine."
Georgia squints a little at the wall. "Sorry, are we still talking about JARVIS?" she asks, because there seems to be something she's missed here.
"Among other things. God, this is a shitshow. I need you to come home and lend me your brain for a while. Georgie, seriously, right now."
There is very little that Georgia knows of that instills that sort of angry desperation in her father.
"I'm leaving right now, Dad."
***
Tony Stark packs up a Quinjet and his teammates and they fly across the world to prevent a small town from being dropped from the sky by the robot he made to save them. It's all very confusing. Georgia sits and stares at the television coverage forever, twists her hands in her lap, and wishes that she was better for more than sitting around and holding her breath.
***
Avengers headquarters moves out of the tower and into a quiet space in upstate New York. It's strange to have the tower back to just family, just her and Dad and Pepper, without running into people in the kitchen or smelling those buttermilk pancakes that the captain got right every time. Georgia sits on the Quinjet launch pad and stares out towards the northwest, wishing her eyes were sharp like Clint's, so that maybe she could see the Avengers facility and make sure everyone was okay.
***
No one's called since they left.
She supposes she shouldn't be so hung up about it. She's really no one special, to them, just the daughter of a teammate who lurked about and sometimes pitched in with armour design and weapon repairs. But the new facility is full of professionals whose only job is to cater to what the Avengers needs, and that's probably better for them anyway.
With a bit of effort and careful questioning, she's managed to get some information out of her father, but mostly that's been limited to hearing about the Barton homestead and how Bruce left them all without a word, taking their jet with him. The captain and Natasha are both living at the new Avengers headquarters, and Thor is off-planet once again.
Her father has been sulking a little bit around the apartment, and he disappears in his suit, heading for headquarters at least once a week. Georgia can't quite bring herself to ask what he does there, how everyone is doing. He doesn't offer much, just comes home and collapses into bed, then wakes up in the morning and throws himself into some new project for the team.
Georgia brings her feet up from where they've been just dangling over the edge of the launch pad, hundreds of feet above the pavement, and heads back inside to the dark apartment. JARVIS doesn't run the building anymore because he's a real boy now, carefully hidden away upstate as well, and FRIDAY is still learning the ropes, so the lights don't pop on as Georgia wanders through to her bedroom. FRIDAY is plenty intelligent and nice enough, but she's certainly not the AI who was one part brother, one part babysitter and one part butler when Georgia was young.
She flops across her bed and stares morosely into the depths of her closet. It's full of beautiful clothes and more shoes than one person reasonably ought to have, but her eyes catch only on the box in the corner, full of treasures that cost her a pretty penny to acquire. It can't stay there forever. It's not meant for her, and someone else will benefit much more from having it.
She will do this one thing, and then let it go. She doesn't know why she keeps holding out hope for someone who can't even be bothered to say goodbye to the people he roomed with for the better part of a year. Maybe Steven Rogers is actually kind of a dick, and she was just too blinded by his pecs and his blue eyes and the form-fitting suit to notice.
The box is nearly full, and Georgia finds some spare papers to shove in the corners so things don't rattle about inside. She wants to do it carelessly, but she can't help but make sure everything is snug for its trip. She pops the ring box open one last time, admires the plain band that clearly meant so much to someone at one time, then closes it up and presses a kiss to the velvet box. It goes on top of everything else, nestled amongst the scrunched up paper.
The lid folds over neatly, and Georgia covers the seams with tape. She prints the address to the Avengers headquarters on the top in tidy block letters, alongside the captain's name, and takes it down to the front desk to be mailed off that afternoon. She spends the rest of the day watching old cartoons and drinking wine straight from the bottle.
***
Georgia spends the next day wearing sunglasses to protect her eyes from the too-bright sun. She goes out to be seen along Fifth Avenue, browsing at stores that she doesn't need anything from, just to remind herself that she's rich and she's famous and she's got plenty of men who'd be happy to have her.
She calls up a couple of friends she hasn't talked to in a while, and they go out to a series of bars that night, getting progressively drunker until Georgia doesn't even care about the paparazzi hanging by the doors. She loops her arm through her friend's, and tells herself that she's young, she's beautiful, she's got the world by the balls.
By the time the sun rises, she still hasn't convinced herself of that last bit.
***
She finally takes Pepper up on the offer to visit the Malibu house a couple days later, and Georgia spends most of the flight out there indulging herself with reading sad love stories that she can bawl her eyes out over without anyone to judge her about it. She arrives in sunny California with red-rimmed eyes but a lot of repressed feelings purged from her chest. Pepper's driver picks her up from the airport, tactfully says nothing about her appearance, and takes her straight to the house.
Georgia has big plans to spend the next week drunk and in the sun. If she never puts on shoes, she will have accomplished everything she set out to do while here. She's well into her second bottle, enjoying the sensation of her skin sizzling in the heat, when Pepper steps onto the pool deck.
"Are you drunk already?" is the first thing out of her mouth.
"Stark," Georgia says as justification. She gives the bottle a bit of a wave. "We don't like feelings, so we drown them in alcohol. Family tradition. You inherit it with the business."
"Uh huh," Pepper says, toeing off her heels and seating herself on the lounger next to hers. They sit in silence for a long moment, and Georgia takes the opportunity to drain the rest of the bottle. "Listen, I got a strange call from Tony a little while ago. It seems that Steve got this package in the mail, and naturally everyone was very suspicious, and they opened it up in the lab to be sure nothing dangerous was in it."
"Oh God," Georgia says, letting her head drop against the lounger and tossing a forearm over her eyes. She needs at least two more bottles of wine to deal with this. Or some tequila. Definitely tequila.
"And of course everyone was shocked when the box was full of antiques of little consequence. Except Steve recognized something." Georgia wished Pepper would just shut up and let her die of humiliation alone. "And then something else. Until he realized that the entire box was full of things that used to belong to him or his family."
"So some kind soul finally parted with all the Cap collectibles they were hoarding away. So what?"
"Georgia, they tracked the parcel's origin. It came from Stark Tower."
"Look," Georgia says, sitting up and facing Pepper straight-on. "Maybe it was a mistake, and I'm sorry, but it didn't seem right to keep all those things away from him. It's all he has of his family. Of course he should have his mother's wedding ring and, like, the only known photo of her holding him as an infant. It's not fair that strangers get to keep these things when they don't mean anything to them. So, fine, I found them, and I sent them over. It's my good deed for the year, so if you don't mind, I'll just go back to abusing my liver now, thanks."
Pepper simply looks sadder, and Georgia can't say she likes the expression much. "Are you sure that's all this is?" she asks gently. "Georgia, there's nothing wrong if there's something more than that."
"It doesn't matter anymore! They all went off to save the world again, and no one came back home, and no one said goodbye, so obviously it didn't mean anything. Can we just leave it alone? God, Pepper, I just want to be left alone."
Georgia doesn't feel the tears on her cheeks until Pepper is wiping them away with her fingertips. "Oh, sweetie," she says, then shifts onto the edge of Georgia's lounger and hugs her close. Georgia lets her head be tucked under Pepper's chin, and together they sit in the bright California sun and let her tears drip into their laps.
***
Pepper doesn't prod anymore, and the only communications she gets from her dad are texts asking her opinion of whatever project he's working on now, or photos of DUM-E wearing a blender carafe as a hat. There are no mentions of Captain America, the Avengers, or anything that is not directly related to her life in Malibu as it currently stands.
She stays on the west coast for three weeks, until her skin is bronzed and she's burned through an entire four seasons of Gilmore Girls. Then she packs up her belongings and gets on the Stark jet with Pepper, and they soar over the American Midwest back to New York.
Georgia stares down at the green fields below her and imagines that Clint Barton is standing in one of them right this moment.
They touch down in the late afternoon, and stop for a bite to eat before heading home. Manhattan feels busy and tall after Malibu, but there's satisfaction in returning to the city she's worked so hard to make her home, after she'd left California behind. Together, she and Pepper flash quick smiles at the paparazzi who spot them, but otherwise keep a low profile in the back corner of the restaurant.
"I hate to do this," Pepper says as she spears a dumpling on her fork. "But we really do need to talk about what drove you out to California in the first place."
Georgia fiddles with her spoon, then dips it back into her soup. "Just needed to get my head together, that's all. I won't let it distract me from the work, Pepper, honestly."
"Of course not," she replies, and Georgia wishes her tone were patronizing so she could be angry at her. "But you know Tony. He's going to convince the Avengers to come visit the tower eventually, and I don't want you to be hurt. And you should know that Steve is still pretty suspicious as to where the parcel came from. Tony took credit for it, but he was there when it arrived and didn't know what it was, so Steve is absolutely not buying it. I'm not saying you need to tell anyone, but you should know."
Georgia gives her soup a long, slow stir. It was probably too much to hope for that running across the country was going to fix anything.
Their return to the tower, when they finally arrive, is unexciting, except for when her father spots them and nearly breaks his jaw from grinning so hard.
"You're back! Pepper, sweetheart, I demand that you never leave me for so long again. The others bullied me and there was no one to take my side. And Georgie, come here, give your dad a hug-" and she can't help but sniffle as he wraps her in his arms and clings to her just as much as she clings to him. "I'd forgotten how brown you get in the sun. Come on, I could use an extra set of hands in the lab, and DUM-E just doesn't have the dexterity I need."
"Of course," she says, and if it's a bit more watery than normal, no one says a thing.
***
The problem with Tony Stark is that even when he knows to leave well-enough alone, he is physically incapable of leaving well-enough alone.
He rolls over to her on his little stool, and Georgia wants to roll her eyes at the practiced nonchalance of it all. "How was Malibu?" he asks, fiddling with a bit of wiring she's only just finished. She gives his hand a slap instead of answering. "Hey, now. Just because you have your knickers in a knot over Cap doesn't mean you get to be rude."
"Let's not discuss my knickers, ever again," Georgia says, setting another piece of electronics down. "Especially not in relation to the captain."
"The captain?" her dad says, looking amused.
"It's his title, isn't it?"
"Usually he prefers Steve."
"Yeah, well, usually I prefer to work in peace."
"Georgia, you gotta explain this box to me."
"It's a control switch. I would think that was obvious."
He doesn't much appreciate her avoidance, and he uses his foot to give her stool a turn so she's facing him directly. "I tracked some of that stuff down, G. There was nearly fifty thousand dollars of collectibles in that box. What's the deal?"
She's about to give him to same speech she gave to Pepper, but her father tips her chin up with his finger. "Pep kept me updated on what was going on, when you were out west. She seems to think that you've got some feelings for Steve." He waits, as patiently as Tony Stark ever gets, for her grudging nod. "Alright. Well, I'm not entirely sure what the dad protocol is for me here, but I'm tempted to try and punch him in the face."
"For the love of God, dad," she says, exasperated. "It's not like he's done anything."
"Exactly! It's unacceptable. Who turns down a beautiful, brilliant girl like you? He clearly must be mind-controlled or something."
"Dad, you can't expect every boy I have a crush on to like me back. That's ridiculous." But his certainty kind of makes her feel a little better, even if she mostly just wants to sulk. "I meant for it to be a gift for his birthday, but then with everything that happened, I just sort of... gave up, I guess. And it didn't feel right to keep those things for myself. I didn't want to make a big fuss out of it."
"Well, mission failed on that one, darling. You had about six agents and four Avengers ready to blow that box to kingdom come if there was anything untoward inside. Maybe next time don't send a mystery package to a national icon without a return address."
"I'll keep it in mind," Georgia says. He looks at her closely, then leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. Her eyes flutter shut at the feeling of protection that's always surrounded him since she was a child.
"Maybe next time," he says, and it's so gentle that Georgia's heart clenches, "just try talking to the guy, alright? Sometimes guys with all that focus, they don't do so well when pretty girls are too subtle. And if he still says no, I'll get the suit."
***
It's three months after Ultron had nearly destroyed the earth by way of dropping a city on it, and Georgia is on her knees and elbows, groping desperately for what she's looking for.
"Dad! Did you steal my jersey?"
His tousled head pops into her door. "Why would I do that?" he asks, tossing a blueberry into his mouth.
She drags her arm out from under her bed, her last-ditch attempt to find the MIT jersey that had proven itself to be the best study shirt in existence, and glares at him. "Goddammit, you're wearing it."
He grins at her.
"Aren't you going to miss me?"
"One hundred percent absolutely not. Can I have that back now?"
MIT was, with pride, about to embark on educating the latest of the Starks at the doctorate level. Georgia is nervous, of course, not because she's worried about being able to do the work, but because several of the professors had taught or worked alongside her father, and there is certainly a reputation to maintain.
Although she imagines that she is generally much easier to deal with than her father had ever been.
He pulls the jersey over his head and tosses it into her basket of clean clothes. Georgia leaps to her feet to snatch it back out, balling it up and adding it to her hamper instead. "Gross," she says plaintively.
As she moves past him with an armful of clothes to add to her suitcase, her father pulls her in close and tucks her under his arm. "Hey, don't lose your mind with all the classes and the deadlines," he says, the most serious she's seen him in weeks. "Have some fun, alright? Get your mind off... things. I expect a few good stories when you come home for Thanksgiving."
"Oh, I'm meant to stay away for that long?" she quips, then relents. "I won't. I'll make friends. I'll try, anyhow. Don't drive Pepper crazy while I'm gone, or I might have to steal her away to live in my dorm room with me. You know, for her own good."
"Thank God you're not staying in an actual dorm room," he replies, but she knows that the little apartment she's renting for the next couple years might as well be a ramshackle university dormitory room in his eyes.
Georgia folds the armful of shirts into her suitcase, smoothing the wrinkles out with a brush of her hand, and zips the whole thing shut. She leaves tomorrow morning, heading north back to where she spent five years completing her undergrad and Master's degrees. She's not worried about going back; the MIT campus is like her third home, after Manhattan and Malibu, but the Board of Directors seems to think that she will return fully capable of running the company as soon as she has that piece of paper in hand. Never mind that she managed just fine for those long, awful months where her father was trapped in a cave with a battery strapped to his chest, no PhD in her pocket.
The movers are shifting her belongings into a trailer, and Pepper has ensured that the basics are already in her new apartment. When she was fifteen and starting university for the first time, she was too young for the regular dorms and far too young to live on her own, so she'd lived with a staff of two people, a housekeeper-slash-chef and a one-man security detail. Now she's plenty old enough to live on her own, and she relishes the opportunity.
Georgia gathers the last few things, slings her purse over her shoulder, and takes a last look at her bedroom. It's been cleared of all her favourite things; the bookshelves are half-empty and her closet is stocked with only the fanciest party dresses she owns. Everything comfy is coming with her.
Her father is waiting in the kitchen to give her a hug, and she lingers in his grip for longer than she'd like to admit. Pepper strokes her hair and holds her tight, and then Georgia is in the elevator and whisked down to the garage, where she slips into her car and turns the ignition. FRIDAY opens the garage door for her, and Georgia eases out onto the busy Manhattan streets.
It doesn't take long for her to be out of the city, cruising the I-91 and stopping in Hartford for lunch. The drive is long and quiet, and Georgia isn't sure if she's relieved or not to finally pull into Boston, cross the river and pop the car into park in front of the apartment building. The movers have already arrived, and the truck looks nearly empty. She follows them inside, finds her life in boxes throughout the rooms, and smiles at the movers gratefully, if a bit tiredly.
Georgia sits on the hardwood floor and eats her delivery Chinese at the coffee table, watching TV so that the place doesn't seem so empty. It's always a bit odd, these first few weeks without her father always completely underfoot and rambling, without Pepper sweeping into the room and bussing a kiss across her forehead, without the Avengers scavenging through the communal fridge looking for someone else's leftovers to eat. Not that the Avengers have been around lately.
She scrapes the bottom of the takeout container just as her show ends, and Georgia gathers up the empty Styrofoam to dump it in the trash. The sun is setting, leaving long shadows across the floor, and she finds herself drifting towards bed even though it's barely 9 o'clock. The day has been long, and she's emotionally drained for too many reasons, and the fresh sheets beckon her into their depths. She strips off her clothes and climbs in, naked, curling her arms around the spare pillow that she'd once tentatively, naively hoped would become Steve's pillow.
Georgia hasn't heard from any of the Avengers she is not related to for twelve weeks, and she is slowly coming to accept that the friendships she had put so much effort into cultivating in a non-creepy, only-mildly-Stark-like manner had been terminated without her consent. It was over, and Georgia had only robotics and engineering to keep her company for the next two, long years.
Might as well start with getting the first night over with.