Early Winter Routine (Part 2)

"I think you may have misunderstood something…"

Natasha’s voice came over the phone. "No, you don’t need to explain. Also, S.H.I.E.L.D. actually has health insurance for family members. I told you, our benefits are quite good…"

"I don’t have… Wait, you mean there’s money involved? Thirty percent of the amount Nick reports??? That high??? Captain America’s bonus is only eighteen percent…"

"Oh, yes, yes. Thank you for your concern. She’s fine…"

Natasha said over the phone, "I heard Stark wants to hire some neuroscience experts to further modify his armor. I hope you can remind him that even if Colonel Rhodes resigns from his position, the military will never give up. Even without the Air Force, there are still the Army and Navy. This trouble is far from over…"

Schiller said, "I understand. I believe Stark can handle these matters himself now."

In fact, Schiller was right. Stark really did have to handle these matters alone, and more troublingly, he now had to learn to take care of himself.

Previously, most of Stark’s weapons manufacturing and military industry departments had been managed by Obadiah. But now, Obadiah was still unconscious. His injuries were severe, he was too old, and his recovery was poor. Pepper was nearly worked to death; she wished she could split herself into eight people.

Originally, Pepper had only been Stark’s personal secretary. Even when helping him manage the company, she had merely handled personnel and procurement matters. But now that Obadiah was down, Pepper had begun taking over all of Stark Industries. She no longer had any time to look after Stark’s daily life.

As everyone knew, Stark’s ability to take care of himself was practically zero. He had once been able to stay with his good friend Rhodey, but Rhodey had gone on vacation too. No matter how intelligent Jarvis was, he was still only an Electronic Life and couldn’t take care of Stark in every possible way.

Schiller and Stark stared each other down through the clinic door. Stark patted the door and said, "Let me in! It’s still daytime. Aren’t you open?"

"You don’t have an appointment, so naturally I’m not open."

"Damn it, why can they all come and go whenever they want, but I can’t?"

"You said it yourself—they come and go whenever they want. How long do you plan to stay here? Don’t tell me it’s a month."

"Uh… not that long. It mainly depends on how long Pepper will be busy. With her intelligence, I guess she can take over Stark Industries in about three weeks."

"Three weeks??? I suggest you turn left and head to S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Hey, you know I don’t want to go there. Two of Howard’s old comrades are there." Stark bent two fingers in an air-quote gesture.

"They hold tea parties every day and reminisce about their World War II days or whatever. I can’t stand it…"

As he spoke, Stark tried to push the door open and enter. Schiller braced the door from the other side and said, "Listen, I’m touched that you stayed up late researching neuroscience materials for me, but that doesn’t mean you can crash here for a month…"

"That Spider-Boy can do it, so why can’t I?"

Schiller took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

Stark glared at him from outside. He wasn’t wearing his armor, and the wind outside was strong enough that he had to clumsily hold down his scarf.

Fine, he did look a little pitiful.

Schiller hesitated for a moment. Stark immediately shoved the door open and squeezed inside. Once he was in, he dusted off his coat, then looked around and said, "Your house is the most utterly mismatched combination of structure and function I’ve ever seen."

Schiller immediately regretted it, but there was more regret to come.

Iron Man was indeed a loyal friend. If he only appeared before you once a month, you would think he was the best friend in the world: smart, rich, and loyal.

But when he wandered around in front of you every single day for an entire month, you would only think he was a pile of dog shit.

Stark was the classic type best admired from afar. Schiller quickly understood just how wise Rhodey had been to pack his bags and leave for Antarctica so quickly. He had definitely anticipated this situation and fled New York without hesitation.

The next morning, before Schiller had even gotten out of bed, he heard movement downstairs. Stark grinned as he sidestepped the refrigerator, but when he turned around, the cuff of his sweater brushed against the edge of the dining table. He cursed under his breath, tugged the sleeve free with two fingers, and hurried upstairs to change clothes.

When he came back down, his mouth never stopped moving. "Damn it, I feel like even the air here is full of grease. Why can’t you clean this place properly? God, the dust on this banister must not have been cleaned in ten years. And those picture frames—they’re practically maternity wards for bacteria…"

"Oh, the kettle, and this kettle too. Do you know that the steam it releases may carry all sorts of bacteria harmful to the respiratory tract…"

"Damn it, don’t come near me! You rat, I’m allergic to fur. Get away from me. Has it been vaccinated? It isn’t carrying the plague or something, is it?" Stark shuddered to himself.

After breakfast, Stark lounged on the sofa in the living room and said into the phone, "Oh, yes, yes… Sweetheart, I’m not that free lately. A magazine cover? Then you’ll have to ask that bald editor. You know, I’m busy over in Hollywood too. Olivia? No, no, she’s not as pretty as you. Of course, I doubt anyone at that show will be sexier than you…"

Schiller, who was writing a paper by the window, finally snapped and threw a ballpoint pen at the back of Stark’s head. Stark yelped, then turned around to stare at Schiller in utter shock.

After a while, Peter arrived, and the two started playing video games together.

When those two got together, they perfectly demonstrated what it meant to stay up at night and refuse to get up in the morning.

When Stark was in the lab, his schedule was basically reversed. He usually began experiments around six or seven at night, worked until eight or nine in the morning, then slept until the afternoon. According to him, nighttime was when he had the most inspiration.

Peter used to pull all-nighters often as well, but because his house was being renovated, he had stayed with Schiller for a while. Schiller had a healthy routine and went to bed early and got up early every day. Not wanting to cause Doctor Schiller any trouble, Peter tried his best to adjust his own schedule. He now usually went to sleep around midnight.

As a yellow-furred rat, Pikachu was actually nocturnal. Its most active hours were from three to four in the morning.

So after Stark arrived, the three and a half people in the house all lived by different body clocks.

The fierce conflict between their schedules turned the entire house into chaos. Whenever Schiller cleaned up and prepared for bed, Stark had just woken up. Whenever Stark and Peter were deep into a game, Peter would get sleepy. By the time Stark and Pikachu had battled together until dawn and were exhausted enough to sleep, Schiller had already woken up again.

Not to mention the two superheroes who flew around New York whenever they had nothing better to do.

Iron Man generally saved the world during the day, sacrificing his daytime sleep as a result. So sometimes, between ten and eleven in the morning, when Pikachu was sleeping soundly, he would suddenly spring up like a corpse coming back to life and go save the world. Pikachu had nearly peed in Stark’s cup because of it.

Meanwhile, the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man preferred going out at night, likewise sacrificing his nighttime sleep. Usually, in the middle of the night while Schiller was sleeping soundly, Peter would head out. Because of that, every time Peter left or returned, he was often struck in the back of the head by flying ballpoint pens and teacups.

Steve, who occasionally came over to visit, and Stark had utterly irreconcilable conflicts. Whenever Steve ran past on his morning jog, Stark had not yet gone to sleep. The groggy Iron Man couldn’t out-argue Captain America, and he would get so angry that he stopped trying to sleep, put on his Iron Man suit, and challenged Steve to a duel.

By the time the two finished fighting and went their separate ways, it was usually just about noon. That was right—Peter, who had stayed up until midnight, had gotten up again…

Natasha stood at the clinic entrance and asked Schiller in great confusion, "Excluding your pet, there should be three people living here. So why can I only ever see one of them??"

"The colleagues in the Statistics Department have given up compiling your activity schedules. Every time I come here looking for someone, it feels like a lottery draw."

Schiller was angry too. "This is my house, so naturally they should adjust their schedules to mine. And my schedule is the healthiest. I sleep at eight at night and wake up at five in the morning. Is there any routine more regular than that?"

Stark was equally self-righteous. "No great scientist fails to stay up all night conducting experiments. Night is the best time God gave humanity to use their genius brains. Please, the inventions I create at night can change the world. Why should I adjust?"

Peter complained too. "What good kid goes to sleep at nine these days? All my classmates are like this, and there have been too many new games lately. If you want to know why I stay up late, ask those game companies why they piled all the fun games into this month’s releases…"

Pikachu had even more reason on its side. "I’m just a rat! You actually expect a rat to adjust its schedule like a human?!"

The Symbiote was aggrieved as well. It said in Schiller’s mind, "Their brains always smell especially delicious in the middle of the night. They smell really tasty…"

Finally, one night, Schiller was asleep in the middle of the night while the Symbiote desperately swallowed in his head. Schiller had just been awakened by the noise when Stark burst into the room, shouting excitedly, "I know what’s going on!!! Come look! Look at this! What do you think of this structure? As a neuron for nanoneural tissue… I’m a genius! This will definitely work!"

The next morning, Pepper found Stark at the entrance of the psychiatric clinic, looking utterly baffled after being thrown out together with all his luggage.

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