The silence in the foyer was so heavy you could have cut it with a vibro-blade.
Natasha stared at the black-and-white lace fabric resting in the box. Slowly, she lifted her gaze back to Ethan. The deadly, professional spy facade cracked, revealing a flash of pure, unadulterated disbelief.
"You want me... to be your maid," Natasha repeated, her voice dangerously flat. "You want one of the world's most lethal covert operatives to dust your antiques."
"And do the laundry," Ethan added, completely ignoring the murderous glint in her green eyes. "My last staff transferred out. Apparently, watching me turn dark mages into oversized cockroaches was too 'gruesome' for them to handle. I can’t exactly hire civilians. That makes you perfect for the job."
Natasha slowly closed the box. "Director Fury sent me here to act as a liaison between S.H.I.E.L.D. and your organization. Not to play dress-up."
Ethan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. The playful smirk vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating gaze of the Sanctum Master.
"Let's drop the corporate speak, Romanoff," Ethan said smoothly. "Fury sent you here to spy on me. Gather intel about Kamar-Taj. And I’m letting you stay because I prefer to keep Fury’s paranoia where I can see it."
He pointed a finger at the box.
"But if S.H.I.E.L.D. wants a front-row seat in my house, they pay the admission price. You want to stay close? You wear the uniform, you sweep the floors, and you pour the coffee. Otherwise, the door is right behind you."
Natasha stared at him. Her mind was rapidly calculating the variables. If she walked out, Fury would be blind to a man who could fold reality. If she stayed, she suffered the ultimate humiliation.
"Hey, don’t look so aggrieved," Ethan teased, the smirk returning. "If someone sees you, they’ll say I’m bullying you."
"Are you not?" she shot back.
"Of course not. It’s not like I’m making you do this for free. I'll pay you."
"Oh? How much?" Natasha challenged, crossing her arms. "Can you pay more than a Level 7 S.H.I.E.L.D. agent’s salary?"
"Money is cheap." Ethan flicked his fingers.
A sudden pulse of localized gravity shifted in the room. Natasha gasped as she was yanked off her feet, pulled across the space, and dropped squarely onto Ethan’s lap.
He didn't hesitate. His hands hovered over the curve of her hips, resting comfortably on her thighs. "I’ll pay you with knowledge. I can teach you party tricks like this, you know."
Natasha’s eyes lit up, the spy instantly seeing the value. "You're saying you'll teach me this... sorcery?"
"If you have the talent to learn, why not?" Ethan murmured. "But my teaching style can get a little... hands-on."
His hands slid slowly up her thighs. Natasha didn't back away. She leaned into the dangerous game. Shifting her weight, she deliberately ground her hips back against his growing erection.
"That’s even better," Natasha whispered, her lips curling into a seductive smile. "I like hands-on instruction."
She stood up smoothly, picking up the box and tucking it neatly under her arm.
"What are my hours, Mr. Williams?"
Ethan’s grin returned in full force. "24/7. Your room is down the hall, second door on the left. I take my coffee black. Start with the library."
Twenty minutes later, Natasha returned to the foyer.
The outfit was criminal. It was a classic black-and-white French maid design, but tailored to leave absolute devastation in its wake. The skirt was scandalously short; if she bent even a fraction of an inch, the black lace of her panties riding up her ass crack was on full display. Tight, black thigh-high stockings gripped her legs, and the bodice strained tightly across her chest, pushing her cleavage up for the world to see.
She picked up a feather duster. She wasn't just cleaning; she was performing.
Natasha deliberately arched her back as she dusted a low mahogany table, presenting a flawless, tantalizing view. She moved with exaggerated, sultry slowness, glancing back at him through her lashes.
Ethan swallowed hard. He shifted uncomfortably on the leather sofa, adjusting his posture.
"Is this bit of cleaning better... Master?" Natasha purred.
Ethan opened his mouth to deliver a highly inappropriate response, but the universe had other plans.
BRRRING! BRRRING!
His phone vibrated violently against the coffee table.
Ethan squeezed his eyes shut and cursed the heavens. "This tin can always ruins the moment."
He snatched the phone off the table. "Yeah. What is it, soda can?"
"Soda can? Watch your words, Merlin, or I'll burn your beard," Tony Stark shot back through the speaker.
"Just tell me why you called. You are ruining my show experience."
"Show? What show got you so hooked?"
"The kind you can never afford," Ethan grunted, shooting a dark look at Natasha, who was currently dusting a vase with a highly amused smirk. "Tell me what happened."
"Just get over to my place, man," Tony said, his voice buzzing with chaotic energy. "I have to show you my creation."
"You mean your father's creation. The one I helped fix."
"Helped? Please. Even if you hadn't said anything, I would have figured it out myself. Sooner or later. Just get over here!"
"Yeah, yeah, genius boy. I'm coming."
Ethan hung up the phone. He stood up, giving his new maid one last, appreciative glance. "Don't slack off while I'm gone. I don’t want to see any dust."
With a spin of his fingers, he tore open a golden portal and stepped through.
He emerged into the sprawling penthouse of Stark Tower. The vibe was entirely different from the underground bunker. Warm lighting filled the room, soft jazz played from hidden speakers, and a small, intimate gathering was underway.
"Good evening, Mr. Williams," J.A.R.V.I.S. chimed from the ceiling.
Tony was standing by the bar, pouring champagne. He looked like a completely new man. The sickly pallor was gone, replaced by his usual arrogant, energetic glow. The glowing triangle in his chest had been swapped out for a sleek, brilliant blue inverted triangle.
"Good to see you alive, Tony," Ethan said, walking into the lounge.
Pepper Potts rushed forward, throwing her arms around Ethan in a tight, emotional hug. "Thank you, Ethan. Thank you so much."
Unlike the original timeline, she hadn't known about the palladium poisoning. Because Tony had fixed it early with Ethan's help, he bypassed the self-destructive spiral entirely. Tony had simply built the new element, slotted it into his chest, and then organized this little party to finally confess how close to the edge he had been.
"Don't mention it, Pepper," Ethan smiled, patting her back. "I didn’t do much."
As he pulled away, his eyes landed on the corner of the room.
Gwen was standing near a holographic display, holding a glass of sparkling water. She was wearing her sleek corporate attire, but the moment she made eye contact with Ethan, her face flushed bright red. She quickly looked down at the floor, suddenly finding the carpet incredibly interesting.
Ethan chuckled softly. The fierce, multiversal Spider-Woman was still completely mortified by the near-miss on the Sanctum sofa.
"Alright, gather around!" Tony announced, tapping his glass with a stirrer. He tapped the glowing triangular reactor in his chest. "Let's propose a toast. To bad fathers, brilliant sons, and wizards!"