Chapter Text
Coulson wasn't ashamed to admit that the first time he'd spoken to J.A.R.V.I.S., he'd thought the A.I. was a real human being.
It had been shortly after Mr. Stark's kidnapping and Coulson had been only laying the groundwork for the investigation into what would one day be known as the Iron Man. He'd called Stark's private mansion less in any real hope of reaching Stark himself and more to gauge the number of assistants and representatives and spokespeople he'd have to go through to get at the man. He expected to end up talking to a butler.
He thought he ended up talking to a butler.
"You have reached the Stark residence," a cultured male voice answered, and for a split second Coulson thought he got an answering machine. "As your caller ID is blocked, please hold as I trace the call. You may remain quiet and sweat nervously while waiting or you may explain your reason of calling, knowing that your call is of course being recorded and Stark voice recognition softwares have tested best in the world."
The whole litany surprised Coulson so badly that he actually backpedalled quickly with an awkward: "Sorry. Wrong number."
"I'm sure it was," the British voice answered dryly just as Coulson hung up.
So Stark had a terrifyingly competent butler. Of course he did.
Then the same voice popped up as Coulson tried to make his first appointment with Mr. Stark.
"Stark Industries, how may I help you?"
Coulson blinked at the male voice. "I'm sorry, I was trying to reach Virginia Potts?"
"You reached her office, but Miss Potts is currently busy - would you like to leave a message?"
Coulson left his plea for a private meeting with Mr. Stark, thinking to himself that of course the assistant of the CEO of Stark Industries would have an assistant of her own.
"I'll pass on your message," the British voice said. Then, just before hanging up, he added: "Got the right number this time, then?"
In hindsight it was probably J.A.R.V.I.S. that kept Coulson from getting a call through and what forced him to stalk Stark out in person instead.
According to satellite footage, Stark was on his third iteration of the armour when Stane cut him off and something was happening in Stark Industries. Coulson still hadn't been able to nail either Stark or Potts down for a proper interview. It was starting to irritate him.
And then he got the call.
"I believe Miss Potts will have time for you now," the British voice told him before explaining where he could meet her.
"That… isn't where Miss Potts' office is," Coulson said slowly.
"Don't be late, Agent Coulson," the voice said firmly and hung up.
That night, Iron Man made the headlines for the first time. It wouldn't be the last.
When Coulson went in to brief Mr. Stark on his cover story and alibi, he found the man elbows deep in some wall panelling, wires and sparks flying.
"Is that better, J.A.R.V.I.S?" Stark asked. The lights flickered and speakers hummed but there was no answer. "Damnit," Stark grumbled and got back into it.
"Mr. Stark, I'm here to inform you about your cover story," Coulson said, watching with some interest. There were many ways to view the man - playboy, visionary, narcissistic asshole, and even a superhero. But it was somehow startling to see him being an engineer.
Stark gave him a look. "See, J, this is why I need you at a hundred percent. People just walk in like it's a thing people do - it's intolerable."
There was a garbled noise over the speakers and Stark twisted something in the wall. The noise crystallised into a voice. "-in the future, sir."
It was British, male, and very familiar - and perfectly omnidirectional.
"Stane sabotaged J.A.R.V.I.S," Stark explained like that made any sense. "I'm going to do an overhaul on the whole place after this, make sure it won't happen again. Give J.A.R.V.I.S. a little makeover while I'm at it."
"Are you going to make me look pretty, sir?" The British voice asked, dry enough to cause droughts.
"The prettiest," Stark promised earnestly and turned to Coulson who was this close to face palming. "What do you want, Agent?"
"Your cover story," Coulson said and handed it over. "Please read it thoroughly."
An Artificial Intelligence. Of course Stark had an Artificial Intelligence.
Coulson was more or less alone with said Artificial Intelligence when the cover story went out of the window. He did face palm then.
"I'm not quite sure how you could expect anything different," the A.I. commented, his voice crisp and inflectionless. "Sir has never been much for secrecy. Or cover ups."
"Well," Coulson mused, thinking about all the sex tapes and candid shots by very pushy paparazzi he'd been avoiding throughout the investigation. "It's going to be a mess, and it couldn't have happened to a better person."
Stark could probably handle the fallout, political and otherwise. He just wished it wouldn't send a bad message to those who didn't have his fame and resources.
He glanced around the room, looking for the cameras. "Never, you said," Coulson said slowly. "How long exactly have you been around, J.A.R.V.I.S?"
"Now that, Agent Coulson, would be telling."