Finally getting around to cleaning up and uploading the last two fills I did for Darcy Lewis Week. This takes place in what I am hereby calling the Bring the Sunshine' universe.

Darcy is bored. Not 'I've found myself at a bit of a loose end' bored, but mind numbingly, soul destroyingly (Is that a word? Whatever) bored.

It's mid-July, which means Darcy is staying with her dad for the month. Yeah, yeah 'Tony Stark' and 'boredom' are words not to be uttered in the same sentence. That's the problem, he isn't here. Apparently there's a problem with the manufacturing of one of Stark Industries latest products. Tony was called in because he's more likely to be able to solve it than the technicians and the engineers.

Don't get her wrong Darcy is seventeen, she doesn't need her father's constant attention. When he has to work, he has to work. But it means that Darcy is in the mansion on her own. Well JARVIS is there but a girl can only talk to the house for so long before life no longer seems worth living. Darcy reached that point two hours ago, three hours after she filled her yearly quota for watching reality TV.

The universe doesn't contain many absolutes, but this is one of them; a bored Stark is a dangerous Stark - to themselves and others. Just because Darcy doesn't have the surname, doesn't mean she doesn't have the quirks.

So Darcy going through he dad's liquor cabinet could potentially herald the apocalypse.

What the hell. You only live once.

"I am dying. Actually dying. Dad, to you I bequeath my Pokémon plush collection." Darcy would go on, but her stomach does the flipping thing that means she's about to throw up again. Pulling the basin in her lap closer, what's left of Darcy's lunch from the day before makes its second appearance. Her dad is sitting behind her holding her hair and no doubt wishing that he'd considered using a condom.

"Well, I'd say we've learned an important life lesson. Don't mess around in my liquor cabinet. Seriously Darce, I'm pretty sure there's a code about that sort of thing. Thou shalt not get hammered on someone else's booze without their consent. Especially your father's." Tony sounds entirely too cheerful about the whole affair and if Darcy wasn't otherwise engaged, she'd hit him.

"Another thing - idle curiosity really. Why did you choose to pass out behind the door to the workshop? And where did you even find that pink paint?"

Pink? Darcy lifts her head, which feels three times as heavy as it should, to look around. Oh. Someone tried to give the workshop a paint job. She raises one hand up to her eye level. Pink there too. Oops.

"One; I don't know," she answers, "and two; I really don't know. It's your workshop. If we look hard enough we'll probably find the doorway to Narnia. Ugh. I am never touching alcohol again for as long as I live."

Tony laughs as he rubs circles into her back, "Sure. You know what they say about the road to hell kid. It's paved with stupid intentions."

"I'm pretty sure it's 'good' intentions," Darcy contradicts half-heartedly. Trying to avoid making her head spin more than it already is, she sags against her dad's chest.

"Nuance."

Darcy chuckles, "Ow. Don't make me laugh. My stomach doesn't like it."

"Can't help it. I am effortlessly hilarious. All part of my charm." Darcy doesn't even need to look at his face to know he's winking.

"Promise me you won't tell mom. She'll kill me. If you do before she finishes me off I'll convince her that this was all your fault."

"Why is this my fault?" Tony protests, "Oh yeah, remember that time when I forced alcohol down your throat? Good times, kid, good times."

"Anthony Edward Stark; most responsible parent ever."

"I am too responsible! I run a multi-billion dollar company."

Darcy groans, "Only because Pepper runs you." There is nothing left to throw up. Hear me O'stomach, this party is over.

There's a pause while her dad tries to think of a comeback. "You have a point." Something in the air shifts, heralding an abrupt and awkward change in atmosphere. This can't be good, Darcy is cradling a basin of her own vomit, and nothing should be more awkward than that. Oh god. Emotions incoming.

Behind her, Tony exhales slowly. "Look Darce, I'm in no position to tell you what to put into your body or what not to do while you're underage. Whatever stunt you pull, it's pretty much guaranteed that I've done worse."

"Way to take the wind out of my sails, old man."

He ignores her, "Just try not to end up like this all the time. I mean, you clearly did not inherit my ability to work the hungover look."

"What did I say about the laughing thing?" Darcy whimpers. Her body is not in optimal condition to support smiling or any kind of emotional scene. Her dad obviously didn't get the memo. Or more likely he did and just neglected to pay any attention whatsoever.

"I'm pretty sure Pepper is pulling together a 'Stark emergency hangover kit as we speak," he assures her. "Oh and Darce?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever get like that again, you call me. I don't care where I am, you call me. I demand a solemn oath."

"Sure," Darcy tells him, staring her legs. Tony going all parental is weird; it's the same weirdness level as that one time Pepper turned up late. It's a sign that the universe is out of balance.

"Darcy."

Oh god. Fine. Fine. Inappropriately timed father/daughter moment it is. Setting the Basin of Doom aside, Darcy repositions herself so he can look him in the eye. "I solemnly swear, on my honor, that if I ever again get drunk enough to think painting anything pink is a good idea, I will call you. Satisfied?"

"Maybe."

"Dad! Fine on JARVIS's honor."

A silence stretches between them. Tony shudders, "Well. Okay."

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

You are almost an adult Darcy. Act like it. Man up and deal with your self-inflicted pain. You are not a child, do not-"When Pepper brings the magical hangover supplies, can we make one of our forts and just camp out in here for like, ever?"

Tony's answering grin is adorable and Darcy almost regrets all those times she's thought about beating her dad to death with Dummy's arm. Almost. "Sure kid, why not?"