"Been a while since I was up here in front of you all, so maybe I'll just do us all a favour and stick to the cards."

Blaine sighed as he flicked through the channels of his small TV in his dorm room at Dalton. His finger rested on the 'Channel Up' button, not sure whether he should watch the conference, or switch now to avoid the pain. The man on the TV was looking down onto palm cards as he addressed the media, cameras flashing and reporters strangely quiet as he continued.

"There has been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and the rooftop—"

Blaine remembered the incident, it was all over the news and the main conversation point at Dalton; he couldn't escape it.

"Sorry, Mr Stark," interrupted a chiselled blonde reporter. "—but do you honestly expect us to believe that that was a body guard in a suit, that conveniently appeared despite that fact that you sorely despise bodyguards?"

"Yes."

"And this mysterious bodyguard was somehow equipped with an undisclosed, high-tech Stark battle—"

"I know that it's confusing; it is one thing to question the official story and another thing entirely to make wild accusations or insinuate that I am a superhero."

Blaine's head shot up; he, very uncharacteristically, scrambled to the edge of his bed, staring at the screen.

The reporter looked mildly confused, and sort of smug, "I never said you were a superhero."

"Didn't? Well, good, because that would be outlandish and . . . fantastic. I'm just not the hero, type. Clearly. With this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I've made, largely public."

The man next to him (Rhodey, Blaine remembers Pepper calling him once) whispered something in his ear and he nodded slightly, looking at his cards again.

"The truth is . . . I am Iron Man."

There was a stunned silence in the dorm room, the only sound coming from the now frantic reporters on the TV. Blaine stared at the screen, drinking in the information. Iron Man . . . Tony . . . Pepper.

. . .

Stupid, Tony. Idiot, Tony. IMBECILE, TONY!

Virginia "Pepper" Potts ran a hand through her fiery-red hair in distress, denying another call that came onto her StarkPhone screen. She had turned away from the screen showing the disaster and had immediately been bombarded with calls. Reporters, board member, politicians, investors. She was this close to going in there and ripping Tony's throat out. How could he? How dare he do that after they had almost fixed everything?

Her phone buzzed again, but this time she accepted the call after she saw the caller ID.

Blaine Anderson
614-742-0913

"Blaine?"

"Pepper!" came the boy's voice. "What the hell—?"

"Blaine, hold on. I'll call you back after I drag your father out of the cameras' claws and explain. Just sit tight, okay?"

Blaine's sigh came across as crackling static, "Sure thing, Pepper. I just . . ."

"I know," said Pepper, spotting a furious Agent Coulson storming towards her. "I got to go, just stay strong, Blaine. Everything will be worked out."

She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than Blaine.