Archive of Our Own ^beta

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“You’re a monkey in a freaking circus Anthony, is that what you want to be?  Is that what you want for your life?  What is this?  Am I running Howard Stark’s freak show?  Should I start charging money to have people come see my son flailing around and knocking things down?”

Howard has been dead for 20 years, but his words still rattle around Tony’s mind from time to time.

Freak show… monkey that belongs in a circus.  Tony has heard worse than that from other people, though not usually about his bizarre mannerisms.  The media has called him a slew of unfriendly names over the years.  At some point he’d stopped looking at the tabloids and magazines altogether.  He had stopped watching the news too, or at least where it concerns him.  He has FRIDAY filter out all things involving Iron Man or Tony Stark so that stories about him don’t reach him to begin with.  Over the years, people he’s encountered have come up with some doozies when it comes to names for him.

He doesn’t think about those names though.  He thinks about Howard getting mad at him for knocking a cup of milk off of the dinner table.  He thinks about Howard storming into the school when he was in the third grade and hauling Tony out by his ear because he’d thrown a pencil on the floor that the teacher had handed him and he had been sent to the principal’s office.  He thinks about Howard describing him and his ‘defiant’ behaviors to the headmaster of his first boarding school, to ensure they knew what they were getting themselves into.

"Let them run the freak show for a while Maria," Howard had told his mother as they walked away from Tony, leaving him on the front steps of the boarding school at nine years old.

Tony knows he’s not a freak.  He knows he’s not part of a freak show.  It had taken him some time to figure out what the hell was wrong with him… or more accurately, Rhodey had figured it out a few weeks after Tony had been sent to MIT at 15 and been put in the same dorm room as him.

He’s not a freak.  He’s not a monkey.  He has Tourette Syndrome.  He knows that, but when he thinks about it… thinks about his mannerisms and the few little things that he can’t stop himself from doing, Howard’s words come back to him.  “I’m trying to build an empire Maria, I can’t have the press getting wind of all of his defiant behaviors.  If they find out, everything I’ve worked for could crumble.”

Howard is dead, and Tony isn’t a freak, but he’s always worked to keep his tics under control, or hidden away.  He doesn’t tell people and does his best to prevent his tics from coming out, or to explain them away when they do.  The only reason Pepper and Happy know is because Rhodey had made it a point to tell them, despite that Tony had asked him not to.  “Tony, I care about you man.  You’re like my little brother.  It’s best if they know.”  Tony had been angry with him about it then, but Rhodey had been right.  Rhodey had been one of the few people in his young life that he knew without a doubt cared about him.  Rhodey, his mother, and Jarvis.  His mother and Jarvis had been gone… long dead by the time he’d hired Happy, and then two years later Pepper, but Rhodey had wanted to ensure that the people Tony surrounded himself with understood him and didn’t think he was odd.

For the most part, no one thinks Tony is odd.  He’s worked hard to ensure that things stay that way.  He only has a few tics now as an adult, and all involve his hands (thankfully he'd lost the tick he had as a child where he used to repeat the word 'freak' under his breath again and again), and he’s come up with a lot of great ways to ensure that his tics don’t come out when least expected.

"What is this?  Am I running Howard Stark’s freak show?"

No dad, Tony thinks on occasion.  I run my own freak show now.

* * *

He only has a few tics… they’re little things really.  He’s always had them, ever since he could remember.  Meeting Rhodey at 15 and having him figure out what Tony’s little oddities are had been a Godsend.  After Rhodey had told him he thought that Tony had Tourette's, Tony still felt like he should do everything he could to hide his tics, but Rhodey had made him feel like he was normal for once, and not a freak that belonged in a circus.  “Don’t worry about it man.”

“How can I not worry about it?  I knock shit off of tables and throw stuff down.”

“Yeah, but not all the time, right?”

“Most of the time,” Tony mumbled.

“Ok so, what is it about the stuff you’re knocking down?  The book from the library said it’s involuntary, right?  There’s not anything you’re thinking about when you do it?”

“It’s not exactly like that,” Tony said, “I can control it sometimes.”

“Really?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try anyway.”

Tony sighed.  “If nothing’s on a table, I’m good.  If five things are on a table, I’m good.  Just one thing though?  It has to go down.  I can’t help it.  One thing can’t be there by itself.”

Tony and Rhodey had been in an intro to engineering class together, and Tony had sent Rhodey’s water bottle hurtling off the table in the middle of the lecture, sending it clattering to the floor earlier that day.

“Just one thing on the table bothers you,” Rhodey said.

“It doesn’t bother me, it just- my brain feels like it itches, or like it’s on fire or something if there’s just one thing there.  My hands too.  I have to knock it down.”

“Ok… but you said not if there’s more than one thing.  How about setting something else on the table next to it instead of knocking it over?”

Tony has figured out a lot of little ways around his tics since then, but Rhodey had come up with most of them that first year they’d spent together at MIT.  Rhodey might not be a genius when it comes to computers or engineering, but when it comes to helping Tony, he almost always knows what to do.

If Tony is handed something, he throws it on the floor.  He doesn’t know why.  It doesn’t matter if it’s something he wants to be handed or not, it goes on the floor.  So Rhodey had come up with the idea for Tony to just not accept things at all that are handed to him.

“Right, awesome,” Tony said.  “That’s gonna go over real smooth when my dad tries to hand me something.”

“Better than it being thrown down though, right?”

“What do I even say to people when they try to hand me something?”

“How about, I don’t like to be handed things,” Rhodey said in a voice that made it clear he thought it was obvious.

Since then, “I don’t like to be handed things,” has become one of the little ‘eccentricities’ that makes Tony who he is.  He would rather be handed things than having them be set down on a table for him to pick up, but he would also rather not throw things he’s handed on the floor.  Howard had always said he was odd… a freak for throwing things down.  Telling people he doesn’t like to be handed things, and then owning it, like he’s not bothered by it at all makes him ‘eccentric’, at least to those that don’t really know him.  Pepper and Happy don’t mind accepting things for him when they’re with him, and then setting them down for him later.  There have been a few times when Tony isn’t thinking about it, that Pepper accepts something from someone, and then hands it directly to him and he manages to hold onto the items.  The few times it’s happened, it’s surprised him and Pepper both.  Then again, last Saturday she'd handed him a granola bar, not thinking about it and he'd sent it flying, so, there’s that too.

Not being handed things is easy enough, and when he can't get out of accepting something that someone wants him to take and he throws it down, he pretends like he dropped it.  "Huh, look at that, wonder how that ended up down there."

Other things are harder to explain however.  All of his tics revolve around his hands.  He has no idea why.  He's done a lot of research about Tourette Syndrome over the years, and knows there are a wide variety of ways in which tics can manifest.  He doesn't currently have any verbal or facial tics that he's aware of, just weird little things he feels compelled to do with his hands.

For instance, he's not a germaphobe, but people think that about him when he shakes their hand and then immediately wipes his hand down the side of his pants like he's trying to wipe germs away.  Ok, so maybe he's a germaphobe sometimes, but that has nothing to do with the hand wiping thing.  His hand just feels wrong, after shaking hands with someone, which is odd because holding hands is just fine.  Over the years Tony has offended a lot of people after a handshake, so now he just doesn't shake at all if he can help it.  He keeps his hands behind his back or in his pockets if he senses a 'hand shake situation' coming up.  Sometimes he offends people by not shaking their hands, and they think he's a jerk, or too good to shake hands with them.  That used to bother him, but people will think what they want to think about him no matter what, and he'd rather be seen as a little pompous than as a freak, or a germaphobe.  Sometimes he has to pick and choose his battles.

The last thing he does with his hands is the biggest one, or at least, it's become his biggest tic since he's figured out how to deal with the other two.  He knocks shit down.  All the time.

Pepper doesn't mind, and Happy has gotten into the habit of not setting singular items on flat horizontal surfaces so that Tony doesn't feel compelled to knock them down.  

Rhodey on the other hand likes to cause chaos, so when he comes to visit, he sets things down all over the house just for Tony to knock over or knock off of counters. "Pretty sure this is what cruelty looks like," Tony had told him a few years back when he'd come out of his bedroom to find a water bottle sitting on the coffee table with nothing else around it, a plastic cup on the kitchen counter, and a single pen on the dining table.

"Tones, you live for chaos as much as I do.  I think you like knocking shit down when you're alone.  You can't do it anywhere else, might as well have fun with it in your own home."

Tony always knows when Rhodey has been through or if Rhodey has come for a visit even before he's found him napping in a guest room, because there will be an abundance of things to knock down scattered around the penthouse.  And if Rhodey is sleeping in a guest room, he always knows when Tony is home because he can hear things clattering to the floor, and Tony grumbling as he stoops to pick them back up.  It's one of the things he loves about Rhodey… if they can joke about it and have fun with it together, then it makes Tony feel like it's normal… like it's not something to be ashamed of or that he has to hide away.  I'm fun, not a freak.  Rhodey had spent five years at MIT trying to change Tony's internal monologue from freak, to fun to be around.

Tony is grateful for that too, because if not for Rhodey, he thinks he might not be any fun at all.  There is value in chaos, something Pepper and Happy might not agree with, but as much as he feels like a freak for all his little tics, he also feels fun, and thinks of himself as such.

* * *

Tony and those closest to him are used to his tics, so it's not usually a problem.  They happen more than usual if he's stressed out or anxious, but he's learned to handle it, and it helps that he doesn't have to hide them (hiding his tics makes him stress out even more), and that he can go home at the end of the day to Pepper and just be himself.

When he'd first built the compound for the Avengers, Tony had worried about moving in with them.  He'd built himself and Pepper a private suite within the compound so he'd have a space to escape to where he wouldn't have to hide his tics from the team.  Still, he'd been worried that they'd notice his compulsive tics and figure out the secret he's been trying to hide since he was a child, Howard's voice always in the back of his mind, "Straighten up and act normal for once Anthony!  This is not a damn freak show!"

He'd thought about telling Bruce once or twice, because back then he'd been spending a lot of time with Bruce in the lab, but he'd changed his mind every time he thought he was ready to tell him.

He'd also thought about telling Clint.  He likes Clint like he likes Bruce… they'd been friends.  Tony had often volunteered to be paired up with Clint on missions, especially missions where they'd need to stake a site out for a few hours.  In the end, Tony had never found it in himself to tell Clint either.

He doesn't want anyone to think he's a freak.  He's never told anyone that hasn't figured it out themselves or been told by Rhodey.  Out of everyone he's ever met, the only other person that's ever figured it out on their own is Yinsen, and Yinsen is gone.

So Tony had been looking at moving into the Avenger's Compound with some trepidation, because up until that point, aside from missions, he hadn't spent a lot of time with the rest of the team, and there hadn't been too much of a chance for his tics to be seen and recognized for what they are.

Then Germany had happened, and suddenly there was no team to move into the compound with.

Tony had almost been as relieved as he had been saddened by the falling out… as comforted to know he wouldn't have to hide his tics when living with them twenty four seven as he was disturbed to know that Steve had almost killed him in that cave in Siberia.

The months after that falling out had been rough, he assumed for all of them, but he'd made it through.  They had too.

Tony had gone about his daily life, never having moved out of the tower and to the compound.  Nothing had changed, except perhaps his dealings with the spider kid.  Tony had done his best to keep Peter at arm's length, which had lasted for about three months, until the kid had stopped the Vulture from hijacking his plane.  After that and getting yelled at by Peter's aunt for over an hour, Tony had decided to take Peter on as his personal intern.

So yeah… life as normal.  It's been good… great even.  Tony doesn't have to worry about accidentally revealing anything about himself to anyone.

That is until the Accords got changed and the Avengers were pardoned.  Since then he's been all set for them to move into the compound while he stays right where he's at in the tower with Pepper where he's safe.

Then Ross intervenes with the new Accords Committee, and demands that the Rogue Avengers be on a six month probation and stay in the tower with Tony.

Tony stares at the email from the Accords Committee outlining the new plan.

No… no, there's nothing to worry about at all.

* * *

Normally Tony only has a thing about single items sitting on a flat horizontal surface.  That's the stuff he knocks off and to the floor.  Normally he's not super stressed out though.  When he's stressed out, it gets worse.  The team moved into the tower up on a floor that's now set aside just for them, and lately he's been knocking all kinds of shit onto the floor.

Sometimes he does that anyway, though in the privacy of his own lab or own home he's not worried about it.  He has bots to pick up after him in the lab.  They're programmed to pick up tools, nuts, bolts and other things after he leaves the lab for the night.

Now, his old worry of living in close proximity to the team is back, and he's worried that with the added stress of having to deal with everything that's happened between them, he's going to be knocking all kinds of things down in front of them.  Fury has been on them lately to, “Regroup and get shit figured out,” so he knows he's not going to get away with just avoiding the team altogether.  At some point they're going to be expected to start going out on missions together again, which means mission briefings.  Then inevitably, Cap will want to start doing team building exercises like team movie nights and team dinners.  Tony used to enjoy those on the rare occasions they happened, but now he's not sure what they'll look like.  If he walks into a team meeting and the situation is tense, his anxiety and stress are going to skyrocket, and he's worried that his hands will want to do something crazy like flip a table over.  It's never happened before, but that doesn't mean it won't, and it doesn't stop him from worrying about it.

There have been a few occasions in the past when he's had a random tic with his hands that happens once and never again, usually when he's really stressed out.  Once, a few days after the incident at the Stark Expo, when he was stressed and anxious about Pepper and what she thought about him, he went to knock on her door at the hotel they were both staying at, and proceeded to knock uncontrollably (about 20 times) until she opened the door in a rush and glared at him.  That had been embarrassing, but as soon as she saw the red in his cheeks and the look on his face, she'd recognized the incessant knocking for what it was: a tic.  That particular tic has never repeated itself, not once.  His worry that he might do something bizarre like flip over a table or knock over a chair is based in reality though, and he can only hope that it won't happen.

* * *

After they move in, it's two days before Tony hears from any of the other Avengers.  They send Bruce down to talk to him since Bruce is the only one that wasn't involved in the fight in Germany.  Bruce had been 'taking a break' after Sokovia and had been hiding out down in South America.  Tony doesn't know what it is that made Bruce decide to come back, but Fury dug him up somewhere, and he moved into the tower along with the others.

Now he's standing outside the glass wall of Tony's lab and asking to be let in.

Tony immediately shoves both hands in his pockets and then tells FRIDAY to let him in.  He knows from experience that putting his hands in his pockets won't help anything.  He can suppress the urge to knock things down for a few moments… a few minutes at most, but the longer he suppresses the urge, the stronger the compulsion to knock things down becomes, and sometimes ends in him knocking over anything and everything he can find.

"Hey Tony," Bruce says, voice quiet and nervous as he takes a few steps into the lab.  His eyes rove around the chaos he finds there.  Tony is glad that Bruce can't see his feet from where he's standing, because there are a dozen tools on the floor scattered around him already.  His workbench is covered in things.  He knows where everything is, but having it covered in things means there's not a single item sitting by itself and waiting to be knocked down, even though his stress has caused him to knock all kinds of things to the floor today.  Most of the time he doesn't even bother to put the mess of tools, wires, soldering irons and other things on his workbench away.  It's always been this way, so Bruce doesn't say anything about the mess on the workbench as he comes over, eyes searching the chaos to see if he can figure out what Tony is working on.

"Hey, all settled in?" Tony asks.

"Getting there."  Bruce motions to his workbench.  "Working on anything interesting?"

Tony scoffs.  "Everything I work on is interesting.  Including this new model of the Stark Phone."  It's not interesting.  In fact, projects he has to work on like this for R and D are the farthest thing from interesting.  It has to be done though, and things like him getting his work done make Pepper happy, so he doesn't mind.

Bruce sets his hands on the workbench and they grow quiet for a few moments.

"So, how is everyone?" Tony asks.  He hates awkward silences and thinks about turning on some music just to cover it up.

"Everyone's a little on edge.  Things are pretty tense between me and Nat right now," he says with a grimace.

Tony nods.  "Right… the whole… flying away after Sokovia thing."  He pulls one hand out of his pocket to motion with it.  He has the urge to sweep a wrench off his desk despite that it's surrounded by other things and stuffs his hand back in his pocket.  The compulsion doesn't go away.  There's a slow feeling of pressure that starts to build in the palm of his right hand from not knocking the wrench down.

"Look, Tony- I'm really sorry about that.  I didn't mean to just abandon you."

Tony frowns.  "You've got nothing to be sorry about.  You needed time away.  I get it."

"No, I-" Bruce opens and closes his mouth a few times, like he's looking for words he just can't find.  "I left because of Nat… because of something that happened between us during the whole Ultron incident.  But, when I left, I didn't just leave her behind.  I left you too."

Tony stills.  He really has no idea what Bruce is getting at.  "We're good."  He takes his hand out of his pocket again and puts it on Bruce's shoulder, just for a moment, then pulls his hand back again.  The pressure is still there in the palm of his hand.  He squeezes his hand in his pocket, hoping that will make it go away.  It's only a few moments before the feeling starts to increase and then starts to crawl up his arm, making his entire arm want to twitch.

"Are we good though?" Bruce asks uncertainly.

Tony raises his brows.  "Yes?"

Bruce sighs.  After a few moments he says, "Why aren't you asking me about Germany?"

"What about Germany?"  Tony shifts uncomfortably, rolling his shoulder.  It feels like he has restless leg syndrome, but in his hand and arm.  He eyes the wrench again and then drags his eyes away and up to Bruce, who looks frustrated.

"When I came back the other night and moved back in, they all asked me why I wasn't there… they wanted to know which side I would have been on.  It got a little… tense, especially when I didn't want to answer, because it's all over now."

"Ah, and you wouldn't have chosen them."  Tony's hand slips out of his pocket without him noticing and he picks up the wrench and starts tapping it on the workbench lightly.  He taps it over to the edge before he realizes what he's doing and then it takes everything he has not to slide it right off and onto the floor.

"Honestly, that whole thing looked like a mess when I saw videos of it on the news.  I'm glad I wasn't a part of that, but I'm also mad at myself for not being there for you.  We're friends… or… we were, and I wasn't there.  I'm sorry."

This isn't what Tony had been expecting.  Then again, he hadn't been expecting Bruce to come back at all.  "You were friends with all of us."  He shrugs like it's no big deal.  It is a big deal, but he can tell that Bruce feels bad about it, and Tony doesn't want him to.  Bruce beats himself up over too many things as it is.

"I'm not sure I was," Bruce says.  Tony looks up and finds that he has his arms wrapped around himself.  It's been almost two and a half years since he's seen him, but he still cares about Bruce and doesn't want him to overanalyze and feel bad about it.

"Look, not a big deal," Tony says.  "I wish I hadn't been a part of it either.  If I could have stayed out of it, I would have.  It's over and done with now.  So," he sets the wrench down and claps his hands together once.  The feeling of pressure in his hand and the tingling of his arm are almost unbearable.  His brain is starting to itch.  The wrench is still begging to end up on the floor.  "How long are you back for?" he asks, voice tight.

Bruce lets his arms drop to his sides.  "I'm not on probation like the others, but Fury wanted me here for a while and I agreed to come back.  Six months, like the others."

"Well," Tony says, "after they leave, you're welcome to stay.  Same offer I gave you before still stands.  I can find work for you at SI."

They grow quiet again, but this time the silence isn't awkward like it was before.

"Do you think the others will want to leave after six months?" Bruce asks.

"I doubt they want to be here."

"I dunno."  Tony meets his eyes again and Bruce says, "From what I've heard, they feel pretty bad about what happened with the team too."

Tony scoffs, his hand now rubbing up and down his pant leg, trying to get the pressure and tingling sensation to go away, even though he knows it won't until the wrench and probably a dozen other items end up on the floor.  "After they harassed you about why you weren't there?"

"I don't know if I'd call it harassing.  They definitely wanted to know though."  Bruce reaches up and rubs the back of his neck.  "They feel bad.  They've all been kind of wondering when you'll come up to talk to them."

"And you were nominated to come find out."  That's what Tony had figured the moment he'd spotted Bruce outside his lab.

"No, I came on my own.  I think they were just going to wait for you to come up."

Tony puts both hands on his workbench and leans on it a little, trying to let the sensation of the cold metal edge override the feeling of pressure, tingling, and itching.  He grips the edge and tries to ignore his brain screaming to swipe the wrench onto the floor.  It's no use, he can't hold the urge back anymore.  He brings both arms forward, wraps them around a bunch of tools and circuit boards, and pulls it all towards himself and then off of the workbench.  It's loud and the noise makes Bruce jump and wince, but Tony’s brain no longer feels like it's itching, and the feeling of pressure and tingling has left his hand and arm.  He wants to sigh in relief, but doesn't because that might look weird to Bruce.

"Tell you what," Tony says, acting like he hadn't just cleared his workbench.  "Let's forget them for a while and work on something fun."

"Wasn't that stuff important?" Bruce asks, looking over the edge of the workbench to the mess at Tony's feet.

Tony shrugs.  "Not important enough to talk about.  Let's go, c'mon, what are we building?"

Bruce smiles at him.  It's been a long time since Tony has seen him smile.  Tony smiles too.  "I've actually been thinking about making a device that can detect the nano particles in-" Bruce is  off and running, talking about a device he has no idea how to build.  His attention is fully diverted from all the crap Tony swept onto the floor, which is exactly what Tony wants.

Bruce is back, and Tony is glad, but that doesn't mean he's going to tell him about his Tourette's, and with any luck, Bruce won't figure it out on his own either.

* * *

Tony doesn't want to go up and talk to Steve or the others, but Bruce had said they seemed sorry for what had happened, and if he puts it off any longer, he's going to stress out about it to the point that he starts sweeping all of his and Pepper's belongings onto the floor.  So he goes up to level 83, where the Avengers are located.

He'd been given three weeks before the Rogues moved back in to get the space ready, and had had a team come in and renovate the space so that there's a common area kitchen and living room, just like at the compound.  The rest of the floor is private bedrooms and a gear room with lockers and benches where the team can get ready if they have to head out in a hurry.

He's not sure what to expect when he gets up there and steps out of the elevator.  He wonders if he'll be questioned like Bruce, or yelled at, or if one of them will want to start a fight.  Tony has his new nanotech watch on so that he can pull a suit out of thin air.  He knows it's not strong enough to stop Cap's shield, but it's all he has to stop the man from trying to finish him off if that's what his goal is.

He steps into the room and lets his eyes sweep the space.  It's only nine PM and he expects the team to be in the living room watching movies or playing video games, because he made sure there were two game consoles in there.  He only finds Steve, sitting at the kitchen island on a stool, reading a book and drinking a cup of coffee.

Tony's stomach does a funny little flip.  He doesn't want to be in a room alone with Steve, but he's more concerned at the moment about the mug of coffee the man is drinking.  Coffee mugs are the bane of his existence for a lot of reasons.  He loves coffee, but he and mugs don't get along.

Mugs are a problem.

Steve turns at the sound of the elevator door and finds Tony standing there.  "Tony?"  He sounds surprised to see him.  "We weren't… erm… sure you were coming."

"Got the email from Fury.  Play nice, kiss and make up, all that good stuff."  He stuffs his hands in his pockets as he makes his way across the living room as casually as he can.  Steve is holding his book, which means the cup of coffee is sitting there on the counter all by itself.  All.  By.  Itself.  His entire body feels like it's itching from the inside out.  His hands and arms feel funny, and he knows they will until that coffee mug is on the floor.  That is not how he wants to start this conversation with Steve.  In fact, he's pretty sure that's how the next civil war, if there is to be one, will start between them: coffee and ceramic shards in a puddle at Steve's feet.

Tony hurries past him and goes directly into the kitchen.  He pulls a mug out and sets it on the counter, and hopes the urge to send them both crashing to the floor will pass.  Then, so it doesn't look weird that he pulled a random mug out and set it on the counter, he starts brewing another pot of coffee, because the current pot is empty.  Once it's set to brewing, he turns and finds Steve watching him from his seat on the other side of the counter.  His coffee mug is in his hands, so Tony picks up the empty mug he set down since his mug is now alone.  This is a dance he's done before, though he hasn't done it in a long time.

"So… how do you want to do this?" Steve asks, and just like Bruce when he'd come into Tony's lab the day before, Steve seems uncertain… like if he says the wrong thing or speaks too loud, a bomb that's sensitive to the sound vibrations around them will go off.  As Steve sets his mug of coffee back on the counter, Tony thinks that's a definite possibility.

Tony frowns and sets his empty mug down.  "Do what?"

"You're not on probation, neither is Bruce.  Ross wanted us here for six months and said you were in charge."

Tony stills.  "That was not in the memo I got."  Probably because Ross is an ass, and wants to make Tony suffer.

Steve sits up a little straighter.  "We thought you'd have rules for us."

Tony shrugs and shakes his head.  "Since when have I cared about rules?"  Always.  Don't hand me things, don't shake my hand, and don't put single items down on flat surfaces.

"So- you don't care if we leave the tower?"

"Do what you want, Cap."  Tony wants to add onto that, 'Just leave me alone,' but he doesn't.  Steve is being far more amicable than he'd expected.  Tony almost wonders if he fell asleep on the couch in his lab and is dreaming all of this.

Steve picks his mug back up, and Tony picks his up.  He turns and pours himself some coffee, takes a sip, and then holds onto his mug until Steve is ready to set his down again.

"Look… about Germany-"

Tony cuts him off.  "Over and done with.  That was two years ago."

"You- don't care?"

"Of course I care."  Tony should have kept his mouth shut, because he really doesn't know what else to follow that up with.  He cares.  The fight in Germany had paralyzed Rhodey from the waist down.  It had ripped the team apart.  It had shown him that Bruce didn't care enough to come back, even when Tony needed him.  Tony had acted like it wasn't something he'd thought about when Bruce had come to the lab, but that had been a lie.  He'd lost everyone but Rhodey and Peter that day.  Nat had switched sides mid battle, Clint had sided with Steve and gone to the compound to collect Wanda, and Steve?  Steve had been determined to do his own thing no matter what the cost.  Tony's throat feels tight just thinking about it, and he's tempted to set his mug full of hot coffee down on the counter just so he can have a good reason to swipe it off and onto the floor, because the itch to knock Steve's coffee mug down is still there, and knocking his own mug off the counter will look better than destroying Steve's.

"Look, unless you want to pick up that fight right where we left off," he motions around the room with the hand holding his coffee.  "Level the tower, flatten Manhattan…" end up in a cave where you can finish trying to carve my chest out with your shield.  He's full of anxiety and definitely feeling the urge to knock things off of the counter, and his eyes dart around looking for something else, but there's nothing, not even on the dining room table.

"So we just," Steve shakes his head slowly, like he's not sure he's hearing Tony right, "put this behind us?"

"That's the plan Capscicle."

Tony sets his mug of coffee in the sink, even though he's barely taken a sip of it.  He heads straight for the elevator.

"We were thinking about making a big breakfast tomorrow," Steve calls after him.  "If you want to come."

"Sure," he says, not turning back.

When he gets back up to the penthouse a couple minutes later, he knocks Pepper's purse and his wallet off the dresser and onto the floor.

“Are you ok?” Pepper asks, looking up from the book she’s sitting in bed reading.  Tony knocks several other items off the top of the dresser.  It would look to anyone that doesn't know, like he's throwing a temper tantrum of some sort, except for the fact that he grimaces as each item hits the floor and then stares down at the mess for a moment in dismay before bending down to pick it all up.

“I agreed to go to a team breakfast tomorrow.” He stands up and puts several items back on the dresser.  His brain starts to itch again right away and he sweeps them all off again, unafraid to do so when it's just him and Pepper in the room.  He sighs, runs a hand over his face and hangs his head.

“Leave them on the floor sweetheart.”

He nods and takes his watch off.  He sets it on his nightstand, but it and the tablet and battery operated clock sitting there end up on the floor right away too.  He sits down heavily on the edge of the bed with a sigh.  Pepper always knows when he's stressed out because nothing can stay on any surfaces in the house.  He doesn't know what he's going to do tomorrow.  He hasn't been this stressed out since Germany… since trying to recruit Spider Man to help bring Cap in and knocking several things off of Peter's desk in his small bedroom in his Queens apartment, and then having to pretend like it was an accident.

She reaches up and runs her hand up and down Tony’s back.  “I'm here.  Just remember, you're not doing this alone.”

He can feel some of the tension drain out of him at her words and gentle touch.

* * *

Pepper goes with him the next morning for breakfast because it's a Saturday.  She knows that Tony is nervous about being around the team again.  It's not like they haven't shared team meals before, or been in close proximity to each other, but Tony is stressed out, and when he's stressed, it makes everything worse.  Pepper knows that about him, and doesn't make him ask her to go with him.  She just goes.

It's a good thing that she does.

Clint seems excited to see Tony, even if the rest of the team seems a little wary.  This will be the first time they're all back together (minus Vision and Wanda, both of whom Fury hasn't been able to track down yet).  The moment Tony and Pepper walk into the common living area from the elevator, Clint calls out to him and waves him over to the kitchen.  Tony tries to ignore the gazes of Steve, Bruce, Nat, and Sam.  He doesn't know Sam, or anything about him other than that he's seen the schematics for Sam's wings, which he and FRIDAY had gotten ahold of by hacking into a military database just before Germany.

"Here you go," Clint says, holding out a mug of freshly brewed coffee to Tony.  "French roast with far too much creamer, just the way you like it."

Tony stares at it for a moment in Clint's outstretched hand, but before he can say anything, Pepper says, "Smells good.  I'm going to steal a sip."  She says it to Tony as she takes the coffee from Clint.  It doesn't seem like Clint minds.  Pepper takes a sip, then sets it down on the kitchen island and slides it over to Tony, who takes it gratefully.  There was no way he could take the coffee from Clint without it ending up on the floor.  Pepper is the best.

He tries not to search the area for things he might have to knock off the counter, but his eyes do it without his permission.  Currently there are four mugs and a glass of orange juice on the kitchen island, several plates of food getting ready to be served on the counter, and napkins and silverware on the kitchen table.  He lets out a sigh of relief.  This is good.  He's good.  Pepper is there with him, and there aren't any single items sitting on the counter or table, and he thinks that he might be relaxed enough to get through this.

"So, how are things on the homefront?" Tony asks Clint.

Clint grins at him.  "I've been at home with my family the whole time.  We were off the grid anyway, so no one knew where to find me."

Tony's eyes travel around the group at the table, wondering if they had been with Clint too.

"Wakanda," Clint says, seeing the unasked question in his eyes.  "I was with them for a few days, then I went home."

Tony nods.  "So, Laura and the kids are good?"

Clint beams and starts telling Tony about how much his kids have grown.  "You should come out and visit," Clint tells him as Steve and Sam start carrying plates of food to the large round table.  "You and Pepper both."

"Sounds good, Katniss."

It looks like Clint wants to keep him engaged in conversation throughout breakfast.  Tony isn't sure if this is some sort of plan they have, or if Clint legitimately missed him this much.  Tony wouldn't have turned him in if he'd contacted him during the last two years, but maybe Clint doesn't know that.

They eat bacon and eggs and homemade biscuits, and just as Tony's plate is nearing empty, Nat says, "Clint, if you'll shut your mouth for a minute, the rest of us might get a chance to talk."

Clint grins and leans in towards her.  "Why would I want to talk to the rest of you?  I've spent the last three days talking to you."

She rolls her eyes and acts like she's going to poke him with a fork.  Then she turns to look at Tony.  "So, looks like you've been doing well."

Tony nods.  He has been, or at least he had been until he'd been contacted by the Accords Committee.

"We saw you in the news a few months back… taking out a drug cartel with a local vigilante?  That spider freak," Sam says.

Tony drops his fork on his plate.  It's not because of an urge to throw it, he's just surprised.  He swallows that surprise down with anger.  Freak.  Freak.  Freak.  Freak show… monkey that belongs in a circus. His eyes come up full of all the anger he's trying and failing to tamp down.  "Don't call him that.  His name is Spider Man."

"His powers are kind of freaky though," Sam says, like he doesn't see the big deal.  "I mean, do those webs come out of him or what?  Disgusting."  He shudders, and Pepper puts a hand on Tony's wrist.  He doesn't know if it's just to lend him some of her calm, or to prevent him from picking something up and throwing it across the room.  Throwing random things really isn't his thing though unless he's been handed something.

Tony's voice is tight, along with all of his muscles as he says, "He's a good kid.  He gets enough of the name calling from the media.  Don't talk about him like that."

Sam looks like he's going to open his mouth again but Steve nudges him and Sam turns to look at him, confused.

"So, you like working with him?" Steve asks carefully in a clear attempt to steer the conversation in a positive direction.  They can all feel the tension hanging between them, or maybe just hanging around Tony like a cloud as he clenches and unclenches a hand below the table.

"He's a little inexperienced, but he's good.  He has good instincts."

"Is he part of the team now?" Steve asks, and Tony is surprised.  He's asking Tony?  Steve is the team lead and they've always made decisions on new members of the team together.  They've considered several vigilantes in the past, but none have made the cut, and it was a team decision to bring both Vision and Wanda on board after Sokovia.

"No," Tony shakes his head.  May wouldn't be ok with Peter joining the Avengers, and Tony doesn't think he would be either.  The kid needs to graduate high school first, and then college.  He's too young to know what he wants, and too young to know that joining the Avengers isn't all it's cracked up to be.  There's so much more that life has to offer than always being on alert and being ready to run out to the next big fight.

"But you're fighting with him," Steve presses.  "It's not the first time we've seen the two of you in the news."

"Kid gets in over his head sometimes."  It's not the whole truth.  Peter does get in over his head sometimes, but more often than not, Tony gets an alert about Spider Man being involved in a car chase with bank robbers or that he's dealing with a gigantic lizard wearing a lab coat that's destroying a jewelry store, and he suits up to go help.  Peter can probably handle most things on his own, but he shouldn't have to, and Tony doesn't want him to feel like he's doing this all alone.

The conversation turns to other people after that, and Tony is thankful.  Clint asks if Tony wants to hang out later, and even though the answer is no, he says, "Sure."  Then he and Pepper make their escape.

"That wasn't so bad," Pepper says, holding his hand as they ride up toward the penthouse in the elevator.  She's trying to sound positive, even though Tony doesn't think she has any positive feelings about the Rogues at all.  She's still mad at Steve in particular for crushing his sternum and leaving him for dead in Siberia.

"There was a lot of stuff sitting around."

She nods.  "Do they know you don't like to be handed things?"

"I'll tell them again."  It's been two years since he's seen them.  Two years is more than enough time to forget that he doesn't like to be handed things and that he doesn't like to shake hands.

"They're going to be here for at least six months," she says.

"Yup."

"Don't you think you should tell them?"

"I'm not telling them," he says.  Sam's voice is on repeat in his mind.  Freak.  Freak.  Freak.  Sam thinks Spider Man is a freak.  There's no way that he'll think that Tony's odd mannerisms are normal if he finds out.

"Ok," she says slowly as the elevator door opens up to the penthouse.  "What about Peter then?"

"What about him?" he asks, confused.

"Are you going to tell them about Peter so you can avoid more conversations like the one at breakfast?"

"I'll tell them I have an intern if they ask.  Peter doesn't want anyone to know Spider Man's identity."

"That's his choice," she says.  "But if he's not going to reveal that, the same conversation could come up again."

"I'll be fine.  I wasn't going to throw anything."

"I didn't think you were."  She brings his hand up to her mouth and kisses it.  "I just wanted you to know that I was there."

She gives him a quick kiss on the lips, lets go of his hand, and goes to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea.

Tony takes a deep breath and lets it out again.

The breakfast had been a little tense, but it hadn't been that bad.  He thinks he can handle going to a team meal again without knocking anything off of tables.  He might even be able to handle talking about Spider Man again as long as Sam doesn't start calling him a freak.  Even if Peter isn't there to hear it being said, there's no way Tony is going to let the kid be called that.  Not to his face or behind his back.

* * *

Things still feel tense between Tony and the others for the next two weeks, but he's invited up to the penthouse to watch a movie two days after the team breakfast, and to dinner the night after that.  Sam is absent from both events, and Tony wonders if he just doesn't want to attend, or if he's busy, or if he doesn't want to talk to Tony.  Tony doesn't really care either way.

He's not sure if he wants to actually reconcile with the team, or to be part of the team again.  For now he's housing them because he has to, and doing his best to keep his tics hidden.  His plans don't extend beyond that.

Bruce comes down to his lab a few times in the following two weeks, and Clint comes down once to hang out with Tony and to see if Tony will fix up some of his gear, which is long overdue for repair.  Tony knocks a few things off his workbench in front of them, but makes it look like an accident each time, and neither of them comment on it.

He doesn't spend any time alone with Steve, Nat or Sam, though he does see them a few more times when he's asked to come have a meal with them.  Spider Man isn't brought up again, and Tony thinks he just might be in the clear.

He starts to relax a little.  Maybe he has nothing to be worried about after all.  He can do this, he thinks.  Things are going far better than he'd expected, and he can do this.

* * *

Tony isn't actively avoiding the team, but he doesn't go to spend time with them unless asked to.  He spends the majority of his time with Pepper, working on new things for R and D, or in his lab, by himself or with Peter.  Peter is around a lot.  He used to just come one afternoon a week, but six months prior he'd started coming for three afternoons a week.  Since the Rogues have returned, Tony has told the kid to come by more often if he wants, and Peter has been coming by not only on his official lab days, but on other days and times as well.

Peter is one of the few people in his life that he doesn't mind spending time with, and doesn't feel like he has to be on edge around.  The kid has no idea that he has Tourette's, but it's been more than a year since Tony has tried to play off the various things he knocks to the floor as an accident when around him.  Peter is around so often now that Tony almost thinks of his lab as belonging to him and Peter both.  In his mind, because the lab is part of his home, then that makes the tower in some part Peter's home too, and if it's Peter's home as much as it is Tony's, he doesn't feel like he has to be on edge around him all the time where it involves his odd tics.

It helps that Peter never mentions it when Tony knocks tools off of his workbench.

Sometimes when it happens, Peter just picks the tools up and sets them back on the workbench.  Other times the kid leaves the downed items on the floor (particularly if Tony is having a really stressful day and is just knocking shit off the workbench repeatedly).  Once, when he'd been stressed out about a deadline he needed to meet and was miles behind on paperwork Pepper had been on him to finish, he'd knocked about nine items down in twenty minutes.  Peter had stooped to continue picking things up, and Tony had told him, "Just leave it there for now kid."  Ever since then, if he's knocking a lot of things down, Peter leaves them where they lay.

There had been a time in the early days of Peter coming to his lab when Tony had been afraid that Peter would ask about his tics.  Tony would knock something to the floor and occasionally Peter would say, "Mr. Stark?"  Tony had always tensed up at Peter saying his name like that right after he'd knocked something down… it was like the kid wanted to ask, but was nervous about doing so.  But after a few moments Peter had always followed that up with a mundane question like, "What's your favorite Star Wars movie?" or, "What's your favorite kind of jelly donut?"

He's so used to Peter's off the wall questions now, that when he knocks several items off his workbench, and Peter says, "Mr. Stark?" he doesn't tense up or grow weary.  

He's expecting a mundane question to follow, so he says, "Yeah?"

He's surprised when Peter doesn't ask a question and says, “You don’t have to be stressed out around me.”

Tony frowns and looks up from the PCB he’s soldering.  “What?”  He is stressed out, but he hasn’t been snapping at Peter, so he’s not sure how the kid knows.  Maybe his hearing is so good that he can hear Tony’s heartbeat and tell that his blood pressure is higher than normal.

Peter points at the twelve or so items around Tony’s feet on the lab floor.  “Your tics get worse when you’re stressed out.  I just wanted you to know, you don’t have to be stressed around me.  I mean…” Peter trails away and bites his lip, looking like he’s unsure of himself.  “I don’t mind,” he finishes quietly.  “That’s all.”

Tony realizes after long moments that he’s holding his breath.  He gathers enough mental energy back to himself to say, “Tics?  I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  This was not how he'd been expecting time in the lab to go today.  Not at all.

Peter fidgets with his fingers again, toying with a piece of smooth metal on top of the workbench.  After a few moments his face goes from uncertain, to determined.  “Uncle Ben had Tourette's too.  He had a couple facial tics and there were a few words he’d sometimes repeat under his breath.  It always happened more often when he was stressed out about work or money or something.  He didn’t like people to know either.”

Tony just stares at him.  Peter looks up and meets his eyes.  He’s not accusing Tony… not putting him down for it or acting like it’s a big deal.  He doesn’t even pretend that Tony might not know that he has Tourette's.

“Yeah,” Tony says slowly, “all right kid.  I’m not stressed out about you.”  He motions towards Peter’s part of the project they've been working on, hand moving in a little circle.  “Just focus on what you’re supposed to be doing so we can get this done and go watch a movie, Roo.”

Peter smiles to himself and looks back down at his project.  Tony knocks a wrench off the desk and it clatters to the floor.

“Uncle Ben was the best,” Peter says, not even looking at the wrench or flinching at the sound of metal hitting the floor.

Tony wants to ignore him… to get away from the talk of his uncontrollable hands and bizarre behavior, but Peter almost never talks about Ben, so when he does, Tony feels like he has to listen… feels like he’s being let in on a part of Peter’s life that is completely private to everyone but Peter and May.

“You’re the best too Mr. Stark.  You’re still my favorite Avenger.”

Tony looks over at Peter, though the boy’s face is slightly red and he’s pretending to be focused on his task, rewiring a component.  Tony doesn’t know what to do with that.  "Uncle Ben was the best.  You’re the best too."  He’s always known that he’s Peter’s favorite Avenger.  He frequently teases him about it and often buys him Iron Man merchandise, like mugs and pajama pants, and once, an Iron Man Build A Bear.  In turn Peter finds or makes Spider Man items and gives them to Tony.  Tony has several Spider Man t-shirts that he wears with pride.

But today Peter hadn’t said, "You’re my favorite Avenger," he’d said, "You’re still my favorite Avenger."  Tony toy’s with a wrench, spinning it between his fingers.  Maybe what he’d been trying to say is, 'You’re still my favorite Avenger even though you have Tourette's.'  Tony lifts his eyes up to look at the kid again.  Peter’s face is no longer red and he’s working quietly.  The kid had basically said, ‘You have Tourette's and I don’t care.’

Tony's chest fills with warmth.  If he didn’t already adore this kid…

Later, as they finish up in the lab and then head up to the penthouse to watch a movie (he lets Peter pick Star Wars again, because how could he not after what the kid had told him in the lab), he thinks about the other thing Peter had said.  "Uncle Ben was the best.  You’re the best too."

Ben Parker holds a special place in Peter’s heart, not just because he died, but because he raised Peter… was Peter’s father for seven years.  Tony doesn’t dare to believe that Peter is comparing him to Ben in that way.  The two statements must be separate.  There must be something else about Tony that Peter likes.

But still.  "You’re the best too."

He knows he’s loved by Pepper, and Rhodey, and liked by Happy.  He’s disliked by a lot of people though… the media, various people in high positions in the government, the Avengers…

"You’re the best too."

Ben had held a special place in Peter’s life.  He was the best.  Tony doesn’t know how, but somehow he’s earned a spot right there next to Ben in some form or fashion.  He doesn’t think he deserves it, but that’s where things stand.

Next to him on the couch in the penthouse, Peter wraps his arms around himself like he’s cold.  Tony doesn’t usually hug the kid unless he’s been stabbed or needs a blood draw and Tony has to calm him down.  But right now he feels like- he feels like- yeah.  He feels like hugging the kid might not be such a bad thing.

“Cold?”

“Yeah.”  Peter doesn’t take his eyes off the screen until Tony lifts his arm up a moment later.  Peter looks at him, looks at his raised arm, and then leans into his side.

Tony sets his arm around Peter’s shoulders.  “This ok?”

“Yeah,” the kid chirps.  He sounds happy, and a few moments later he scooches down on the couch a little and presses closer until he’s comfortable and warm against Tony's side.

“Warm now?”

Peter nods with a smile.  Tony can have no idea that he has just given Peter blanket permission to steal his body heat whenever he wants, and that Peter plans on taking full advantage of that.

* * *

Tony hates mugs with a passion.  It's an odd contradiction, because he loves the promise of coffee that mugs hold.  Tony usually uses a metal mug with a lid for his coffee, and has several with a spill proof lid.  That way when he knocks his mug off the table, his coffee doesn't die a gruesome death and he's not left having to mop up a mess on the floor.  Pepper sometimes uses regular mugs with no lid, but for the most part she and Happy have switched to using spill proof mugs as well.

The problem with mugs is that they're such an easy thing to set down somewhere and forget about.  They often end up sitting all by themself on a kitchen counter, or a coffee table, which makes them fair game to knock to the ground as far as Tony's brain is concerned.

So far, the dozen or so time's he's interacted with the returned Rogues, he's managed to not knock anything of theirs down.  It appears that that short winning streak (because Tony has considered it a win up to this point) is over.  He knows it is the moment he steps off the elevator and into the empty Avenger's common area and sees a white mug sitting all by itself on the dining table.

Every time he's been to the Avenger's floor since they returned, it's been a careful dance not to knock things to the floor, or he's had to suppress the urge, which resulted in him leaving quickly and then going to the penthouse or the lab and having a mini tic attack, where he'd knocked lots of things down.  Now the living room and kitchen are empty and his hands are itching to knock the mug to the floor.  It can't be on a table by itself.  It just can't.

He moves quickly across the space to the table and knocks it right onto the floor, thankful that the mug is empty, just a few drops of coffee or hot chocolate left in it.  He winces when his victim hits the ground and splits in half, right down the center.  Thankfully it was just a plain white mug.  He'd stocked the cabinets with a dozen or more white mugs right before the team had moved in.

"Dude, what the hell?"

Tony's head snaps up to see Clint, who is standing in the hallway leading to the bedrooms and gear room.  The man looks shocked, but the look gives way to anger after only a moment.

Tony tries to suppress a groan and fails.  "It was an accident.  I'll clean it up."  He stoops down to pick up the two broken pieces and a few little splinters of ceramic.

"That didn't look like an accident," Clint says, coming over to him.  "You pushed it right off.  What the heck did I do to piss you off?"

"What?" Tony asks, looking up at him.  He stands up, two halves of the white mug in hand.  "Nothing.  I was coming down to hang out… like you said."  Clint had sent him a text twenty minutes before, asking if Tony wanted to come watch a movie and talk about modifications to his bow that Clint has ideas about.

"And to break the mug my kids gave me for Father's Day."  Clint has his hands on his hips.  "It wasn't an accident.  I saw you reach over and push it off the table."

Tony is confused.  He looks down at the broken halves of the mug and flips one over.  There's a photo of Clint's kids printed on it.  His stomach falls.  Not a plain white mug after all.  Not that he could have stopped himself even if he'd known it was a keepsake to begin with.

"Look, I'm really sorry.  I'll buy a new one.  I thought it was a plain white mug."

"And that makes it ok to break it?"

Normally when he can't pass this tic off as an accident, he says something like, "I do what I want."  People that don't know him well often think he's just eccentric because of it.  Sometimes they think he's cocky.  He can't say that to Clint though.  Clint is the only Rogue Avenger that's been making an effort to include him in things regularly, or to ask him to do things like hang out.  The others have been civil with him… careful even, but Clint is the only one that has seemed genuinely happy to spend time with him.  Bruce has been trying to spend time with him too, but with Bruce it's different, because Bruce hadn't been part of the whole mess in Germany and Siberia.  "It was an accident," Tony says again.  "Really."  It's all he can say, even though he knows Clint doesn't believe him because he'd seen Tony knock it down.

Clint sighs, holds out his hand for the broken mug, and then takes it to the kitchen and throws it away in the trash can.  He still looks angry… upset, but Tony can see him visibly trying to tamp down on those emotions… fighting with himself to let it go.  Tony's stomach churns again.  He hates mugs, and he hates his crazy tics.  "Am I running Howard Stark’s freak show?  Should I start charging money to have people come see my son flailing around and knocking things down?”

"Ok," Clint says, voice dark, but calmer than it had been a minute ago.  "So, do you want to watch a movie or what?"

Tony's not sure he does, but he can't back out now.  "Sure, what are we thinking?"

"Something destructive…" Clint says, voice tight.  He moves for the couch.  "Die Hard."

"Sounds good."

Tony sits down in a comfortable leather chair, making sure there's some distance between him and Clint, who is sitting on the couch.  They turn on Die Hard, and it's not until halfway through the movie that Clint starts to relax a little.  "That's what I'm talking about!" he shouts happily at the TV as the main character knocks one of the bad guys out.  "I did the same thing on an op in Turkey!"

"I watched Spider Man do it like that to a child trafficker.  Cold-cocked him right to the face.  Guy's head snapped back so hard he had to have gotten whiplash."

"You guys took down a child trafficker?"

"A small ring operating in Harlem."

Clint nods, looking impressed.  "You said Spidey's a kid, right?  When will he be done with college?"

Tony flexes his fingers, and then digs them into the arm of the chair he's sitting in.  "It'll be a while yet."

"Well, the next time the two of you go out on a bust like that, count me in."

Tony isn't sure whether he's excited that Clint wants to go on a mission with him and Peter, or nervous.  Out of all of the team members, he's always thought that Clint is the most fun to spend time with when they're doing boring recon work.  Tony hasn't done a lot of recon work since the team broke up, but if they get called out on a mission like that again, he hopes Clint will want to be paired up with him.

Clint seems to have pushed the broken mug from his mind by the time the movie ends and they move down to Tony's lab to hash out ideas for Clint's bow.  He doesn't seem angry at all.

Tony does his best not to knock anything down in his lab while Clint is there.  He's already acted weird enough for one day in front of him.

* * *

Even though they'd left off on a good note the day before, Clint is pissed off at him now.  Tony can't pin down why.

"Do you think this is funny?"

Tony frowns and looks down at the cardboard box he'd just brought in to give to him.  He'd promised the day before that he would replace the mug he'd broken.  He'd had FRIDAY grab the same photo that had been on the broken mug, and then ordered a dozen more.  This way, if he can't control his stupid hands and breaks one again, Clint will have eleven more to use.  Tony would like to say that it's not possible for him to break all twelve new mugs, but he knows that's not the case.  If he buys Pepper a ceramic mug and it turns out that she really likes it, he buys a case of them.

"No."  No, he doesn't think this is funny.

Clint eyes him warily.  He motions towards the box and says uncertainly, "This isn't just you trying to show off how much money you have?"

Tony shakes his head, and Clint pulls in a deep breath and then lets it out slowly.  He stares at the case of mugs warily for a moment and says, "Whatever.  You can take those to your house.  I’m not using them.  Those aren’t from my kids.  I already called home and asked Laura to send a new one.”

Clint walks away, leaving Tony there alone.  Except, he isn't alone.  Sam is sitting on the couch, watching, and not pretending to mind his business at all.  Tony stares after Clint, takes the box of mugs and heads back to the elevator without a word.  He can feel Sam's gaze burning a hole in his back as he goes.

* * *

It's a full week before Clint asks him to hang out again.  Tony figures it's probably best that he gives the guy his space, but doesn't want to make him angry by refusing his invitation.

He goes down to the Avenger's floor and has coffee and donuts for breakfast with Clint and Natasha.  Three mugs on the table along with a box of donuts.  He doesn't feel compelled to push anything onto the floor, and he's grateful.  Clint doesn't bring up the broken mug from his kids, or the box of mugs Tony had tried to replace it with.

One incident, he thinks when he's back in the elevator forty minutes later and on his way down to Pepper's office to sign some paperwork.  It was just one incident, and they can move past this.  He lets his head fall back against the elevator and lets out a sigh of relief.  He can still salvage this.  It's the first time since he'd been told that the Rogues were being forced to move into the tower that he feels like he wants to salvage it… that he wants to be part of the team still and to make it work.  He wants to go on missions with Clint, and to be on the team again with Bruce.  And with that realization comes the realization that he wants all of it: the team training sessions, the group dinners, and movie nights.  He's just not sure if the rest of the team wants him to be a part of all of that.  If they do, or if they're going to make this work, he's going to have to keep it to just one incident.  One broken mug.  They can move past that, right?

* * *

Steve emails Tony and asks if he'd like to join a team training session in the gym on the 84th floor.  Tony has always had a gym on the 84th floor, complete with a boxing ring, a basketball hoop, and workout equipment.  Since finding out that the Rogues would be moving in, he's had Steve-strength punching bags installed, as well as other training equipment the team might like.  He readily agrees, and then, that Saturday, finds himself in the gym with the team.

Steve talks about some drills he wants to run, splits them into groups of two, and then they're off and running.

Tony loves the gym because aside from the floor and the boxing ring, there are no flat surfaces to set things down on.  For the entire two hour training session, he doesn't feel the urge to knock anything over.

They practice maneuvers, he and Clint laugh and joke around, and he even gets Bruce to laugh a couple times.

Things are good, and he thinks if they can do more of this, things can stay good.

* * *

Tony stares down at the wattle bottle he's knocked off the kitchen counter on the Avenger's floor.  He looks around to see if anyone noticed him knock it to the ground.  All eyes are on the TV, because it's movie night.  He picks it up, turns in a slow circle, and finds that there are several boxes of popcorn sitting on the counter behind him.  It's a safe place to set the water bottle, so he puts it down there and hurries back to the living room.  No one gives him a look like they've noticed anything amiss, and he takes his seat again and relaxes.

* * *

The Rogues have been back in the tower for just over a month.  They've invited Tony to several movie nights, multiple big meals, and five training sessions in the gym.  Things are going well, right up until the point that they aren't.

Tony is staring at another mug on the floor, this one broken into several pieces and many small shards.  At least this one is a plain mug, he's sure it is.  It's not one of the ones he'd purchased for the team to use, but it's plain black and there's no design on it, so he doesn't think it can be a keepsake.

"Is there a reason why you keep breaking our stuff?" Sam asks.  He'd turned his back for a moment and without thinking, Tony had reached out and knocked the black mug off the counter.

"I'm not," he says.

Sam eyes the clearly broken mug on the floor and then looks up at Tony and raises a brow.

"I broke it," he says, "but I'm not trying to break your things."  He goes to the pantry and grabs a broom and dust pan.  "Was this yours?"

"Cap's."

"Shit," he mutters as he stoops down and sweeps up the shards of ceramic.

Sam is quiet for a moment as he watches him.  "I don't think he'll care too much.  It wasn't his favorite mug or anything."  Sam reaches up to open the cupboard full of mugs and cups, and pulls out a gray mug with the Captain America shield on the front.  "This one is his favorite."  Tony knows that mug is going to hit the ground too the moment Sam sets it down on the counter by itself.  Tony stands up and swipes his hand at it, knocking it to the floor, then he freezes.

Sam stares at him for one breath, two, and then says, "You are such an ass."

He can't claim this was an accident.  Not two mugs in a row… not when Sam had just told him that this one was Steve's favorite and then he'd reached over and knocked it to the ground.

Tony's throat is dry when he says, "I do what I want."  He wishes he had something better to say, because this is definitely not the way to get the team to like him again.

Sam scoffs and walks away, leaving Tony to continue cleaning up the mess.  Tony crouches down to sweep the second broken mug up, though he doesn't clean it up right away.  He hangs his head and covers his face with his hand for a moment.

"FRI, can you find this same mug and order one?"

FRIDAY chirps to let him know she's heard and is working on it.  He sweeps up the mess, makes sure there are no more little shards of ceramic on the floor for anyone to step on, and hurries away to the elevator.  "You are such an ass."  "I do what I want."  This is the price he has to pay to look normal.  Not that being an asshole is normal, but it's better than being a freak.

FRIDAY finds the mug in stock at a local Target.  Tony goes out and gets it, and then late at night, when FRIDAY has confirmed that all the members of the team are asleep, he sneaks back down to the Avenger's floor and puts the new mug in the mug cabinet.  Clint hadn't reacted well to him buying an entire case of mugs.  He hopes Steve isn't too upset that he replaced it with just one.

* * *

"So, we should talk about Germany," Nat says.

Tony groans.  He's sitting and having coffee and croissants with her and Steve for breakfast.  It's been four days since he broke two mugs right in front of Sam, but none of them have said a word about it.  This is the first time that they've invited him back to have a meal since then.  For now it's just the three of them because everyone else is either out or still sleeping.  It's early still, only six AM.

"We really shouldn't," he says.  He wants to forget about Germany and pretend like it never happened.  There's a phantom ache in his chest just thinking about what came after Germany, and he resists the urge to reach up and rub his chest where his sternum had been crushed by Steve's shield.

"You're not still angry about it?" Nat questions.  Tony notes that Steve is staying silent.

"No."

Nat and Steve exchange a glance.  Tony pulls apart a soft croissant and stuffs one half in his mouth so he has an excuse not to talk.

"It's ok to be angry," Nat says, and Tony rolls his eyes.  "But we can't move past that without talking about it."

"Not angry, and no need to talk about it," he says again, voice a little cutting.  He likes coming down to have little early morning breakfasts with her and Clint, or now with her and Steve, but he doesn't want to talk about anything related to how they all fought and fell out.

"Good," she says.  "Because I'd really like to move past it."

"Moved, put the old house up for sale, and planted a garden in the new yard," Tony says.

She doesn't bring it up again, and Steve starts up a conversation with her about an email he'd received from Fury the night before.  It's not about a threat or an upcoming mission, but Steve talks about it like it is.  Fury wants them to find ways to work on the team's image… to get people to believe in them again.

"We could always do some sort of charity event," Tony says.

Steve looks across the table at him.  "Charity?"

"A gala to raise money for a good cause, something like that.  SI runs a few a year.  There's a team from PR down on floor 17 that puts them together."

"Can we get their help to put together a gala for a charity we choose?" Steve asks.

"Sure.  FRI, send a message down to the gala team and let them know they'll be working with Steve.  Send Steve the email address for the head of the team too."

"Yes Boss."

"What kind of charity will we be raising money for?" Nat asks.

"The PR team has a list of good ones.  If you don't like any of those, they can help you find something."

"Where would we have the event?" asks Steve.

"They have a list of places, but have it wherever you want.  SI will fund it.  The team will help you get all the details figured out."

"Thanks," Steve says.  Tony looks up and finds him smiling.  "This might be just what the team needs.  We'll all have to be there though.  Fury made it clear that we have to present a unified front."

"Everyone is going to need nice clothes.  I'll have FRIDAY give you a list of tailors we use, and then you guys can go get suits and dresses.  Just tell the PR team when you talk with them that clothing costs need to be covered too.  They'll give you a card to use."

"What do you think Nat?" Steve asks, because she's been relatively quiet throughout the conversation.

"I'm not going to turn down a chance to get a new dress and get all dressed up.  Shoes come included in this, right?"

Tony leans back in his chair, relaxed.  He likes having the money to be able to do stuff like this for the team.  "Two pairs."

"Two?" Steve asks.

"Why not?"

He doesn't have time to sit there with them and hash out all the details.  He has an R and D meeting to get to in an hour and a half, and he has to get down to his lab to get some things together for it beforehand.  He puts his dishes in the dishwasher, and leaves Nat and Steve there, still talking about the gala, bouncing ideas back and forth about charities they might be able to raise money for.

* * *

He thinks things are going well.  Pepper mentions the Avenger's charity gala to him a few days later, so he knows that Steve and the PR team have the ball rolling on that.  He's invited to a team dinner, and to another team training session in the gym.

Then he knocks a plastic cup of orange juice off the coffee table in the Avenger's living room and right onto Sam's feet.

"Man, what the hell is wrong with you?" Sam asks.

"Nothing."  Everything.  "I'll clean it up."

Sam stands up and says, "Forget it," and stomps away to change into a clean pair of socks and wash his feet.  Tony gets up to get a towel.

"Are you mad at him?" Steve asks.

"No!" Tony cuts out.  He brings back a towel and mops up the sticky orange liquid.

"Why did you do that then?"

"It was an accident."

Steve doesn't respond, and Tony tries not to look up at him as he stands up with the wet towel, but he catches sight of his face anyway.  He looks upset, but not angry.

"It was just an accident," Tony cuts out again.  He puts the dirty towel on the kitchen counter and goes to the elevator.  He feels like a monkey in a fucking circus.

* * *

"I don't even think he realizes he's doing it."

"How can he not realize he's doing it?" Sam snaps.  "I've watched him push like, three cups down now!  He broke two of them!"

"Yeah, but he replaced my broken mug," Steve points out.  "Clint's too."

Clint shifts in his seat like he's uncomfortable.

"I'm telling you, he's doing it on purpose," Sam says, eyes and voice frustrated and angry.  "Guy's a lunatic."

"He's self destructive," Nat says.  "I've never seen him destroy other people's property on purpose though.  So, like I said, I don't think he even realizes he's doing it."

Sam reaches forward to the pen and pad of paper sitting on the coffee table in front of him, and with an exaggerated motion, swipes it off the table and to the floor.  "Nope, I knew what I was doing," he says with a sarcastic tone.

"I'm with Nat," Bruce says quietly, holding his mug of hot tea.  "I've never seen him break things on purpose."

"Why would he keep doing this if he doesn't realize he's doing it?" Steve asks Nat.  He's trying to get a handle on what's going on, and he trusts her.  He's known and worked with her long enough to know how observant she is, and that she's usually right about things like this.

"I think he's still angry about Germany."

"He said he wasn't," Steve says.

"He told me that too," Bruce puts in.

"He says it, but that doesn't mean it's true," she tells them.  "Ross forced us on him… forced us to move into the tower with him.  Don't you think that would make you angry if you were in his place?  Especially after everything that happened… Rhodey, and- Siberia."

Steve flinches.  They all know he and Tony fought a second time, but he doesn't think any of them know the truth of how bad that second fight had been.  Only he and Bucky know, and Bucky is still in Wakanda sleeping in a cryochamber.  "Nat might be right," he says heavily.

Sam shakes his head.  "Ok, he's pissed off.  I don't buy for a moment that he doesn't know what he's doing though.  Breaking our stuff, knocking things down… that's some passive aggressive bullshit right there."  He gestures emphatically with his hand, punctuating the last point sharply in front of him.

The group falls silent, not sure what to do or say about it.

"What do you think Clint?  You've been spending a lot of time with him," Steve says.

Clint looks up, shifts uncomfortably again, and says, "He hasn't seemed angry to me."

"He broke your mug first," Sam says.

"Yeah."  Clint reaches up and rubs his forehead for a moment.  "Ok, look.  Let's just give him the benefit of the doubt for a minute.  He's been friendly to all of us.  He didn't have to remodel a whole floor for us, but he did.  This is a lot nicer than staying at SHIELD in a bedroom the size of a closet.  He's paying for this gala, right?"  He looks up at Steve but doesn't wait for an answer.  "He comes to all the things we invite him to."

"And?" Sam asks testily.

"I'm just saying, the good is stacked up way higher than the bad."

"Do you know what he said to me when he broke Steve's mug right after I told him it was his favorite?  I do what I want."  Sam leans back against the couch.  "Real standup guy there.  We don't have to put up with this."

Steve holds up his hands like he's trying to calm the group down even though it's only Sam that's agitated at the moment.  "We're here for five more months at least.  I'm hoping it will be longer.  We need to try to make this work.  Fury is right, we need to be together in case of another big threat.  I think Clint's right.  The good outweighs the thing he's been doing."  He looks up at Nat.  "Do you want to talk to him again about Germany or should I?"

"I'll do it," Bruce says.  "You said he wouldn't talk to either of you about it."  He looks like he's not looking forward to talking about it with Tony at all.

"Ok, Bruce is on it," Steve says.  "In the meantime, we need this gala to go smoothly.  We need people to believe in us again as a team."

The elevator door opens and Tony walks out.  Everyone collectively reaches for their drink and picks it up from the coffee table.  Tony flinches and Bruce grimaces.

"Team meeting?" Tony asks.

It is a team meeting, but no one had told him about it since they're discussing him.

"Just discussing the gala," Steve says.

Everyone's face is too tight though… everyone is sitting too rigidly.  Steve can tell that Tony doesn't believe what he said.

"Right."  Tony eyes the way everyone is holding their mugs and cups protectively again.  He doesn't say anything for a few moments, but then suddenly, he claps his hands together once and his whole demeanor changes.  "I was thinking takeout for dinner.  Chinese?"  He says it like he's happy to be there… like everything is just fine.  Steve wishes he could pretend that it's fine as easily as Tony does.

"I'm out," Sam says.  He stands up, taking his drink with him, and disappears down the hall leading to the bedrooms.

"Chinese sounds good," Bruce says.

"We have a lot left to discuss about the gala," Steve tells him, "and I already ate."

Nat nods and says, "Me too."

Clint stands up and turns to Tony.  "We can go out and grab Chinese."  Steve can't see the smile Clint is wearing, but he can hear the strain in the archer's voice.

"Come on then, let's blow this pop stand," Tony says.

Bruce stands up too, leaving his mug on the coffee table.  It's the only one there.  As he makes his way to Clint and Tony, Steve doesn't miss the irritated look Tony gives to Bruce's mug as they get into the elevator and the doors slide closed.

* * *

"Say it," Tony says with a huff.

Bruce looks up at him from the other side of the metal workbench in Tony's lab the next day.  "Say what?"

"Whatever it is that's been making you frown since you came down here.  What is it?  Chinese food from last night not agreeing with the big guy?"

Bruce looks down at the sensor he's calibrating.  He's quiet for long moments.  He's quiet for so long that Tony can feel anxiety trying to rise up in his chest.  Then he speaks, and it's the last thing Tony expects to come from his friend.

"They all think you're still mad about Germany."

He frowns.  "I'm not.  I keep telling them that."

"But you've been acting odd.  They think that's the reason why."

"Ok, first off," Tony says with a little laugh, "I'm not odd, I'm eccentric."  He's not.  He knows he's not, but he has to spin this some way and this is always what's worked best for him.  Bruce won't buy that he's a jerk if he tries to play it that way, because Bruce never has.

"I'm serious, Tony."

"I am too.  I'm not acting odd."

"You dumped orange juice on Sam's socks."

Tony points at him and says, "You weren't there.  That's not what happened."

"You didn't knock his orange juice to the ground?"

"That, I did," he says.  "You made it sound like he told you I just turned the cup upside down over his feet or something."

"He didn't say it like that.  Besides, I heard it from Steve."

"It was an accident, no big deal.  I cleaned it up."

"They're not so sure it's an accident.  They think you're angry about the fight in Germany still and trying to get back at them."

Tony pauses and looks up at Bruce.  He blinks several times and says, "That's ridiculous.  I've been nothing but nice since everyone came back!"

"Clint said the same thing."

"At least somebody's on my side."

"I'm on your side," Bruce says.  His voice is quiet though… upset.  Tony wonders if he's talking about Germany or the thing they're discussing right now.

"Yeah, I know.  Look, you don't have to keep beating yourself up over that.  You don't always have to be on my side either.  I'm a jerk sometimes.  I get it.  They think I'm a jerk, and that's ok."

"It's not ok, because I know that you're not a jerk."

"Yeah, well, can't fool everybody," Tony says.

Bruce gives him a dark look.  "You're not fooling anybody.  Ok, look," Bruce sighs and reaches up to rub his eyes under his glasses for a moment.  "I just wanted to tell you what's going on with them."  He looks at Tony and says, "Now what's going on with you?"

Tony is reminded of all the times he's wanted to tell Bruce about his Tourette's in the past.  He thinks about the times he's wanted to tell Clint too.  They're his friends.  He'd thought that before though and found out that he'd been wrong.  They're only his friends right now because it's convenient, and they're all at the tower together.  That could change in an instant.

"What's happening is that I keep being clumsy and knocking things down, and people are reading too much into it.  What's also happening is that I'm starving because I skipped breakfast this morning, and I'm thinking about Chinese food again."

Bruce scrutinizes his face for a few moments, mulling over his words.  Tony isn't sure he believes him.  Bruce grimaces a few moments later, and puts his hand on his stomach.  "No, no Chinese food.  You're right, the big guy didn't like it."

"Mexican?"

Bruce nods.  "I could go for tacos."

"FRI, you know the drill."

FRIDAY chirps to let him know she's doing what he wants.  When he's ordering for him and Bruce, or him and Peter, they order one of everything on the menu.  Tony's not picky when it comes to Chinese food, Mexican food, or several other kinds of food, so whatever Bruce decides he doesn't want, that's what Tony will eat.

Chapter Text

Maybe it had been a mistake to let Cap and the PR team plan the gala by themselves.  Usually Pepper looks over all final plans for any galas or charity events Tony is expected to attend before those plans are put into motion, but this is an event for the Avengers, not for SI.  Tony is so used to letting other people handle this kind of thing that he hadn't thought twice about handing it over to Steve and the PR team to take care of.

He's never going to make that mistake again, he thinks as he stares out at the gala hall, full of donors and children.

Tony likes kids, he really does.  Hell, recently he's started to think of the spider kid as his kid.  What he doesn't like is walking in blind to a gala and finding out that it's a charity event for an organization aimed at research for neurological disorders, and seeing that several of the kids in attendance have TS.

Here's the thing about Tony's TS: when he sees someone else ticking, whether it's on TV or in person, his body goes into overdrive and takes on a life all of its own.  That's saying something considering his hands already have a mind of their own most of the time.

He's encountered a few people with Tourette's before, and while he enjoys knowing he's not alone… likes knowing that there are other people out there that just get him, these meetings never end up well for him.  While ending up in the same room with someone that has Tourette's might normally stress him out a little, seeing a handful of kids at the gala with TS is sending his anxiety through the roof.  There are cameras everywhere because this is a PR event, which means this is the worst place for Tony to be right now.  If the press gets wind of Tony's odd movements and tics, they'll have a field day with it.  "If they find out, everything I’ve worked for could crumble.”  Howard's words ring through his mind, only this time they're in Tony's own voice.  It's not so much that he thinks SI's stocks will tank, but what he's been building with the Avengers could, and would fall apart.  He's certain of that.

The other thing Tony is certain of, is that he needs to escape.

"FRI, tell Happy to pull the car around front," Tony says into his phone as he turns back towards the door.  This is one charity event he's going to have to support from afar.

Tony only makes it a few steps before Steve spots him and is at his side.  He comes over and blocks his path.  "Tony, there you are.  Listen, we've got a bunch of kids that want your autograph, and several donors that want to meet you.  Nat thinks they might be willing to donate more if you talk to them first."

"No can do Cap, I just realized I- I- have somewhere else to be."  He's so flustered, he can't even find the words he wants.  He hears a child in the distance make several loud noises over the crowd.  The noises aren't words, they don't make any sense.  The kid can't help it any more than Tony can help his tics.  Knowing other people are ticking in the room makes his hands start to itch though.  The sensation starts to crawl up both arms and he tries to shake them out, but it doesn't help.

Steve is smiling like he thinks what Tony said is a joke.  "The donors we were hoping you could talk to are right over here."

"I really can't," Tony says.

"It will only take a few minutes."  He takes Tony gently by the elbow and turns him towards the donors.  Everyone at the gala is dressed to the nines, but he can tell that the group he's been steered towards are wealthy by their custom tailored clothes.  One gentleman is wearing a suit that rivals the one Tony is wearing.  Tony doesn't know why he allows Steve to steer him over there.  He could pull his arm out of his grasp and move away… make a break for the door, but he doesn't.  His eyes are darting around, looking for something he can knock down.  His mind darts for a moment to flipping a chair or table over, and he clenches his eyes shut, praying that it's just a stray thought and not a compulsive tic he'll be driven to complete.

He opens his eyes right before they come to a stop.  Normally in these situations he'd already have his hands clasped behind his back, or in his pockets to avoid a handshake, but his hands are itching so bad, his skin crawling, that he has to clench and unclench his fists and run his hands up and down the sides of his pants.  The sensation doesn't ease, and he realizes too late that a hand is being held out to him to shake.  It will look bizarre if he pulls his hands back and behind him now.

"Bran Cartright," the man says.  Tony stares at the hand for a moment, and then takes it in a shake.  The sensation in his right hand spikes, and he can't wait for the man to let go so he can wipe his hand on his pantleg.  He pulls his hand out of the man's grip and wipes it vigorously on his pantleg, causing the man and everyone in their group, including Steve to frown.

"Tony Stark," he says.  For just a few moments, the sensation in his right hand goes away, but then he hears one of the kids in attendance (guests of honor probably) ticking again, and the sensation comes back full force.  He continues to rub that hand on his pantleg and says, "I hear you're thinking of donating to the charity fund."

"Yes," Bran says, eying Tony's hand, which can't stay still now that it's rubbing his pant leg.  "I'm the head of an organization that helps educate people about Tourette Syndrome.  We feel very strongly about helping kids with-" Bran can't finish, because Tony's hand is distracting him.  "I'm sorry, but are you all right?"

Tony looks up at him, surprised that he's asking and not just assuming that he's trying to wipe germs off.  Tony pulls his hand away from his pant leg, though it's a struggle, clasps both hands together and says, "You know, it's the darndest thing.  Leg cramp, just won't go away."  His voice is tight, strained.  Bran notices.  His eyes are still glued to Tony's hands.  Tony realizes he's fidgeting, despite his hands being clasped together, and puts his hands behind his back.

"Well, perhaps we can talk later, when you're feeling better."

He can't believe his luck.  The way the man says it makes Tony think he's offended him, but the man is letting him off the hook.  Now all Tony has to do is make a break for the front entrance.

"Of course.  Tell you what, whatever donation you make tonight, I'll match it."

He starts to back away.  Bran turns to a couple of people in his group and starts to talk in low tones, but Tony can't focus on them right now.  He startles when he backs right into somebody and turns to find Steve.

"Tony," he says, voice low and serious.  "What was that?  We're trying to impress these people, not offend them."

"I don't think he was offended," Tony lies.  He tries to step around Steve, but Steve moves to block his path.

"You shook his hand and then wiped your hand off, like he was disgusting or something."

Tony leans in, desperate to leave, and says in an elevated whisper, "I don't like to shake people's hands, you know that."

Steve eyes him for a moment.  He looks disappointed.  "I thought you were on board with this event.  You seemed enthusiastic about it."

Tony holds up his hands, like he doesn't want to fight.  "I am.  Great event, good charity, but I have to go."

Steve doesn't stop him this time, but someone else does.

"Tony, there you are.  Hey, there's a great group of kids over by the stage that want to meet you."

Tony's breath picks up as Bruce moves into view.  He has a pen and a pad of paper in hand.  "Could you sign a few autographs?  I kind of promised you would.  I already gave them mine."

His eyes dart around looking for a table Bruce can set the pen and pad of paper on, but there's not one nearby.  "Autographs, right."  He's pretty sure he's on the edge of a panic attack.  He knows he's on the edge of a tic attack.  The feeling of his skin crawling has moved up to his neck now, and he rolls his head from side to side a little and shrugs, trying to get the feeling to go away.  This is bad.

Tony holds out his hand for the pen and paper, knowing he's going to throw them to the floor as soon as they're in his grasp.  There's nothing else for it.  Bruce and Steve aren't going to let him out of there until they have those autographs.

Bruce hands the pad of paper, with the pen clipped to it to Tony, and Tony sends them to the ground.  Again, the feeling in his hand eases, but only for a moment.  He stoops down to pick the pen and paper up.

"Tony!" Steve chastises.

He rolls his shoulder, trying to brush it on his neck, unclips the pen, and scribbles his name on a sheet of paper.  It's barely legible.  He flips to the next sheet, signs his name, flips to the next sheet, signs.  He's done it ten or twelve times before Bruce says, "That's enough.  There's only ten kids."

Tony pushes the pen and pad of paper into Bruce's hands and steps around him, heading for the door.  He hadn't made sure that Bruce had ahold of them, and he's pretty sure that Bruce dropped the pen.

"Tony!" Steve calls after him, but he doesn't turn back this time.

He steps around a group of richly dressed people coming in, and finally breaks free into the cool night air.  He spots Happy out front, waiting for him, standing outside with the back door to his SUV open.  He doesn't care how unceremonious he looks as he throws himself inside.  Happy seems to recognize that he's on the edge of a panic attack, and closes the back door quickly.  It's only a few moments before Happy makes it around the front of the car and is inside and pulling away.

"Boss?"

"What?" Tony says, absentmindedly scrubbing both hands up and down the legs of his pants, and then moving onto rubbing them on the seat.

"You ok?"

"No I'm not ok!" he snaps.

"Home?"

"Yeah."

"Mrs. Boss hasn't made it to the gala yet.  Want me to call her and tell her to turn around?"

"No.  No no," he says.  He wants to scream, because there's nothing to knock over or throw in here, and his brain is on fire.  "She needs to… she's gotta be there.  One of us has to be there."

"What happened in there?"

"Can you step on it?"  He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, trying to get the tingling, crawling feeling to go away.

Happy pushes the gas pedal down and they speed forward.  It's long minutes before Tony says, "I didn't know the event was for kids with neurological disorders."

Happy is quiet, willing to just sit and listen.

"There were a few kids with TS in there."

Happy nods.  "We'll be home in a few minutes."  Happy has seen Tony have a tick attack before.  It's only happened a few times in the presence of other people in his adult life.  Once in front of Rhodey, once in front of Pepper, and twice in front of Happy.  They'd been at a conference in Bern when Tony was in his twenties, when Tony had been approached by a brilliant scientist who has Tourette's.  Tony had spoken to the guy for almost an hour, intrigued by the concepts he wanted to talk about, but by the end he was twitching visibly himself.  He'd gone back to the hotel room with Happy after that and proceeded to trash it until every tingling sensation in his body had disappeared.

"You're not going to the lab are you?"

"Penthouse," Tony says as Happy pulls down into the private parking garage under the tower.

"How about my place?"

Tony snorts.  "Forget it."  He clenches and unclenches his fists.  The sensation in his arms is so irritating that he starts to rock a little in the back seat, trying to get any other sensation.  He's dismayed when his arm jerks of its own accord and hopes it's a one off.  His hands have been twitching since leaving the gala.

The car is barely in park before Tony has the door open and is striding towards the elevator.  Happy hurries to catch up to him before he gets inside.  Tony presses the button for the penthouse a dozen times despite that they're already moving upwards.

"I'll come up with you," Happy says.

"No.  Go back to the gala.  Watch Pep."

"Her bodyguard is there."

"Be a second set of eyes."  His right hand is rubbing his left wrist all on its own.  He's never considered this behavior a tic before.  It's something he does sometimes when he's anxious or stressed out.  He's starting to think it might be a tic though, because at the moment he feels like he can't stop.

"I'm your bodyguard," Happy says gently.

Tony leans forward, resting his head on the cool metal of the elevator, breathing hard.  "Yeah," he says.

"You don't have to do this alone."

"Maybe just… give me twenty," he says, eyes clenched shut.  "I just need a few minutes."

The door opens to the penthouse, and Tony turns and makes sure that Happy doesn't step out.  Tony keeps rolling his right wrist around.  It's being wrenched so far to the side that it's starting to hurt, but he can't stop.  "FRI, lock the penthouse down for twenty minutes."

"Boss," Happy says, but FRIDAY obeys him without question and shuts the elevator door, blocking Happy off from him, and finally, finally giving Tony some privacy.

There's not too much on the kitchen counters to knock down, but what little there is, Tony pushes to the floor.  The sensation in his arms and hands doesn't cease and he makes a beeline for the bedroom, right wrist still being rolled, fingers of his left hand tapping on his pant leg, like he's jittery and has had too much caffeine.  It's quite the opposite: he's exhausted.

There's a few watches on top of the dresser, all his.  They go to the floor, and then because there's nothing else, he opens Pepper's side of the dresser and starts pulling her clothes out and throwing them to the floor.  One drawer empty, he moves onto the next.  Then the next.  It's only moments before every drawer is empty.  He turns to the perfectly made bed and pulls the blanket, sheets, and pillows off.  Then he goes into the walk in closet and starts pulling clothes off of hangars, and then hangars off of metal rods.  There are shelves full of shoes and folded clothes.  Everything comes down until he's standing in a jumbled pile of clothes, shoes, belts and ties, breathing heavily.  His hands and arms no longer itch, and his brain isn't on fire, but he can't stop jerking his wrist despite that it's painful to do so.

He leans heavily against a wall inside the walk-in closet, and slides down it.  He puts his head in one hand.  He hates himself.  It's been more than ten years since he's had a tic attack this bad.  His right hand is still twitching, like a zombie hand that belongs to a mad scientist somewhere… except he's the mad scientist, and it's his hand, and he can't do a thing to stop it.

He doesn't know how long he spent destroying his and Pepper's bedroom, or how long he spends sitting on the floor of the walk in closet, but FRIDAY lets Happy into the penthouse and he comes into the bedroom, and then to stand in the closet door frame.

"You good?" Happy asks quietly.

"Yes." No.

"I'll help you clean up."  Happy stoops down to pick up an expensive blazer, but Tony reaches out and puts a hand on his wrist to stop him.

"Don't… not yet."  His hand is still twitching.  He really hopes this isn't going to become a new tic.  He's pretty sure if they try to pick anything up right now, that it's all going to end up on the floor again.  Just thinking about anything being back in place makes his hand start to feel pressure in it.

"Ok."  Happy stands up.  "Want to watch a movie?"

"Psh."  Tony puts his head in his hand again.  He's surprised when Happy pushes some of the mess of clothes aside with his foot and sits down beside him in the large closet a moment later.  "What are you doing Hap?" he asks quietly.  He's so, so tired.  He peeks out from between his fingers at his Head of Security.

"Sitting with my best friend."

"Where is he?"

Happy snorts.  "Right here wallowing in his own misery."

"I'm your best friend?"  He's surprised.

Happy frowns at him.  He reaches forward into the pile of clothes and pulls out a knit sweater.  It's one of Pepper's.  He starts to fold it.

"I think that's one I pulled off a hanger."

"It's not."

"How do you know?"

"It's knit.  You fold knit items.  If you hang them, they stretch out."  He pushes a pile of clothes aside, making a clear spot on the floor in all the chaos, and sets the newly folded sweater down.  "Pepper would know that.  That's how I know it wasn't hung up."  He digs through the pile a little and comes out with another sweater and starts to fold it.

Tony doesn't want to sit and watch Happy folding clothes without helping.  He always tries to clean up his own messes.  I run my own freak show now.  He reaches forward into the pile and grabs one of his hoodies.  It's not knit, but there's a shelf in the closet where he keeps all of his hoodies folded up.  He starts to fold it, hand still twitching slightly.

"FRIDAY, how about some music?" Happy asks.

FRIDAY responds by turning on Tony's playlist.  Iron Man by Black Sabbath starts playing through the speakers in the closet and bedroom.  It's loud, like Tony likes it, and he thinks FRIDAY might even be playing it out in the rest of the penthouse.

"Since when do you get to boss FRIDAY around?"

Happy motions towards the mass of clothes on the floor.  "Just find a good shirt to fold and listen to music with me."  Tony stares at him, mouth hanging open a little.  "Look, one of things I've always liked about you is loud music.  Doing laundry isn't fun without listening to some music."

When Tony still doesn't move to grab another item to fold, Happy huffs and says, "You used to be more fun than this."

"Excuse you, I'm more fun than you are.  The other day Peter came into the lab complaining about how not fun you are.  He called you Mr. Grumpy pants."

Happy snorts.  "That's because he was in the back seat and was mad that I wouldn't join in on a wild car chase to go after some guy the cops were after.  And I locked the doors so he couldn't climb out and take off to join with his webs.  Kid pouted all the way to the tower."

"See, not fun," Tony says, pulling another hoodie out of the pile and starting to fold.  "Kid likes me better because I'm fun."

Happy nods and doesn't contradict him.

I'm fun, not a freak.  He glances at Happy, who now has a neat pile of Pepper's knit sweaters waiting to be put back on the shelf whenever Tony is ready for that.  He's fun, and he has friends that like him enough to want to sit with him in the messes he's made, and help clean them up.

As he thinks about that, and other things, such as the fact that he's Happy's best friend, his hand stops twitching and all the fear and anxiety he'd felt earlier at the gala slowly seeps away from him.

An hour and a half later, when Pepper returns home, the closet is half put back together, though the rest of the room is still a mess, and there are still dozens of items on the closet floor.

She finds Tony and Happy picking things up, laughing about a trip to Brazil that Happy had accompanied Tony on when he was 27, where Tony had almost started an international incident, and both he and Happy had ended up in jail overnight.

"Hey," Pepper says softly, sliding her arms around Tony from behind and resting her cheek on the back of his shoulders.

"Hey."

"Redecorating?"

"The feng shui was completely off in here," he says, motioning around the closet.  He has an armful of shirts ready to hang up.  He's been handing them to Happy one at a time, and Happy has been putting them on a hanger and then hanging them up.

"It's much better now," she says.  She squeezes him tightly for a moment.

"You're full of it."

"It's the company I keep."  She steps away and looks back into the bedroom.  "Am I good to put the bed back together?"

"I can do it," Tony says, feeling bad.  She shouldn't have to come home and deal with this.

"I know you can."  She turns and goes to untangle the bottom sheet from the blankets and pillows.

"FRI, play Pepper's playlist."

The music changes to something softer than the rock they've been listening to while they put the bedroom back together.

It takes them another half hour to get everything cleaned up.  Pepper makes the bed and gets everything back in its place in the dresser, and Happy and Tony finish up with the closet.

"Night, Boss," Happy says, heading out of the master bedroom.  It's almost ten PM.

"Whoa, wait a minute, Boss?  That's what you call your best friend?  You know Rhodey calls me Tones."

"Rhodey doesn't work for you."

"That's it, you're fired."

"Night, Boss," Happy calls behind him again, putting a hand up in a solitary wave.

"FRI, turn Iron Man on on repeat in the elevator."

"Tony!" Happy calls right as the elevator doors slide closed, loud music coming out.

"Yup, I'm fun," Tony says to himself.

Pepper startles him a moment later as she slides her arms around him from behind again.  "You are fun," she says.

He turns to face her and she lets him.  He wraps her up in a hug.  "I'm sorry about all of this."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"I'm a lot to deal with."

"I've known you're a pain in the ass since the moment you hired me."

He smiles at her, and leans in to kiss her.

"Are you ok?" she asks after he pulls back again.

"I'm fine."

"I had no idea they were going to have kids that the organization helps at the gala.  I'm sorry."

"You didn't organize this," Tony says.  She's the one that has nothing to be sorry for.  "I should be able to handle stuff like that."  He thinks that if Steve and Bruce had let him go outside and gather his thoughts, that he might have been able to go back in at some point.  "I got in there and- I saw some of the kids ticking and I knew I had to leave."  He swallows hard.  "There were a lot of cameras in there."  As well as the rest of the team.

Pepper hugs him tightly and they just stand there like that for a few minutes.  Tony is lucky to have her… he's lucky to have Happy and Rhodey in his life too.  He doesn't know what he would do without any them.

* * *

Something changes after the gala.  He can feel it the moment he walks into the Avenger's common area the next morning, looking for Steve and Bruce so he can apologize to them.  His plan is to tell them he was having some kind of episode with the arc reactor in his chest, or maybe even that he was having a flashback to Afghanistan to explain away his behavior.  He finds Steve and Sam at the dining table, having breakfast and talking.  Both of them stop talking as soon as he steps off the elevator.

"Cap," Tony says.  Neither of them look up at him, and it makes him feel like he's on uneven footing.

"Tony," Steve says evenly.  He pushes some of his scrambled eggs around on his plate with his fork and doesn't say anything else.

"How'd the rest of the gala go last night?  Rake in some good donations?"

Sam snorts in disgust but doesn't say anything or look up at him.

"Yes.  Thank you for asking."  Steve's voice is cold… emotionless.  It's creeping Tony out.

"I came to apologize for last night.  I was having-"

Steve interrupts him, tone going from cold to disappointed in an instant.  "You know, I thought you were on board with all of this."

"The gala?  Of course I am."

"Not just the gala.  Us being here.  I know Ross forced us all to move in together, but you said you were ok with it."

"I am."  He lets out a little sigh of relief despite that his stomach feels like it's in a knot.  Bruce had warned him about this… about what they think of his behavior.  If this is all he has to deal with, then the situation is still salvageable.

"Yet you keep doing things to make me think you're not."

"I don't know what to tell you Cap," Tony says.  "I was having an issue last night and needed to leave."

"You know, we were all there," Sam says, finally looking up at Tony with a glare.  "All of us made an effort to show up and be present.  The thing only lasted a couple hours.  It was for the kids, and you couldn't even be bothered to stick around for twenty minutes.  Nice."  He says it like he thinks it's anything but nice.

SI paid for the gala hall.  They paid for the catering, and the Avenger's tailored outfits, the band, the people staffing the event… Tony had paid the PR team to do this despite that it's not an SI event.  And Tony had done his best to show up.

"Yeah… you know what?" Tony says, pulling his hand out of his pocket and pointing into the air with it.  "You're right.  I do what I want."  He turns on his heel and stalks back towards the elevator.

Later on he gets a text from Bruce, asking if he can come down to the lab to talk.  Tony ignores the text.  He also ignores the call he gets from Bruce an hour later.

He'd made a fool of himself at the gala.  He'd acted like a lunatic, and the team was doing the best they could to make sense of that behavior.  It irks him that they think the worst of him… that Steve had thought the worst of him before this… has always thought the worst of him, for wanting to sign the Accords, for Ultron, and from the very start… from the first moment they met.

Sometimes he acts like a freak, and he can't help that.  He can't stop it or change it.  He just has to live with it.  He can't play this stuff off as an accident with them anymore, and decides not to try.  He only has one thing to fall back on.  They already think he's a jerk… some of them have always thought that, he supposes.  So this will be easy then.

I do what I want.

He really doesn't, because he can't control his hands.  He's sad that they don't know that, and won't, because he can't let them find out.

* * *

Two weeks pass, and Tony doesn't get invited to have a quiet breakfast with any of them.  He thinks that's what he misses the most… quiet breakfasts with just a couple people early in the morning, with coffee and donuts, sitting around and talking before everyone else gets up.

He doesn't get invited to big team meals either, or to movie nights.  He has to stop himself from asking FRIDAY if the team has had big team meals or movie nights without him, because he's sure they have, and it just feels pathetic to mope about being excluded.

It's not until fifteen days after the gala that FRIDAY notifies him that Steve has requested his presence at a team meeting.  He thinks it must be a mission briefing if Steve has called him to come to the meeting room on the Avenger's floor.  They need Iron Man, or else Tony wouldn't be there.

He rides the elevator down to the Avenger's floor and finds the living room and kitchen empty.  He turns and goes down to the end of the long hall to the small conference room.  It's big enough for the team and a few guests, in case Fury or other SHIELD agents need to be present.  The team is already seated and talking amongst themselves when he comes in.  Just like two weeks before when he'd walked in on Steve and Sam having breakfast, the table goes silent.

Tony sits down next to Bruce, because it's the only empty seat that's not near Steve or Sam, and waits quietly for the meeting to start.

Steve clears his throat.  "I received an email from Director Fury.  He looked over the report on the gala and how much money was donated to the charity.  He's also been keeping an eye on news reports and articles about the team.  The media has been saying positive things about the charity event, and about us.  He wants us to come up with another event or something else the media will approve of."

Steve stops talking, and no one else starts.  Tony looks up to see the table looking at him.  His heart rate picks up a little.  Oh, so this is why I'm here.

"Why don't you contact the PR team again?" he asks.

"Are we allowed to use them again?"

He waves his hand like he doesn't care.  "It's fine.  They're full of good ideas."

"That's it?" Sam asks.  "You're just going to throw some money at it?  You're not going to help us brainstorm at all?"

"You seemed to like me throwing money at it the last time," Tony snaps.  He really doesn't want to do this with them.  Being the subject of constant negative attention from them is wearing… like it had been with Howard when he was a kid.  "Ten thousand for catering, another five thousand to rent the gala hall, five grand a piece for everything you guys wore-" he's going to continue, but Sam and Steve are both glaring at him.  Clint is watching him like he's trying to figure out what Tony is all about, and Nat is scrutinizing every movement of his hand, which has been punctuating the air, tapping the table, and doing all kinds of odd, bizarre shit he doesn't want it to.

He pushes his chair away from the table and stands up.  "Tell me what you come up with and I'll be there."

"Will you?" Sam asks, tone cutting, but Tony is already out of the room, the door falling closed behind him.

Back down the hall and into the living room and kitchen, he spots a water bottle on the counter he hadn't noticed before.  He knocks it onto the floor and doesn't stoop to pick it up.  He doesn't pick up the fake plant he knocks over by the elevator either.  He leaves it on its side and hurries out.  As the elevator carries him to his lab, he thinks about the plant.  The water bottle he'd had reason to knock down.  The plant was already on the floor though.  The only thing he can think of that bothered him about the fake plant is how tall it was.

He drags a hand down his face.  He really feels like there's no hope in salvaging his image with the team now.

* * *

"Tony?  Come on, open the door."

Tony sighs and has FRIDAY unlock the lab door for Bruce.  The man steps inside, looking nervous.  He'd knocked several times before Tony had given in and granted him entrance.

"If you're here for takeout, I'm afraid I'm fresh out of ideas and money."  He knows he's being sarcastic, but he wants to be.  Why bother trying to be nice to people when he's totally fucked anyway?  "Throwing money at things apparently isn't the answer, and even if I was going to throw away a hundred bucks on takeout, I don't have any good ideas to contribute about where we'd eat."

"Stop," Bruce says, hurrying over to the workbench.  "You don't need to do that with me."

"Do what?"

"Whatever this is," he says.  "I'm on your side, remember?"

"You shouldn't be.  You should be on the 'Tony is an asshole and not part of the team anymore' bandwagon."

Bruce sighs.  "You're part of the team."

"How many movie nights or team dinners have you guys had the last couple of weeks?"

Bruce reaches up and rubs his forehead.  "A few."

"And I wasn't invited.  See, not part of the team anymore.  I'm down here by myself on team asshole."

Bruce sits down heavily on a stool.  "Why are you doing this?"  Before Tony can spit out a smart remark, Bruce motions between the two of them.  "This, right here?  What did I do that's so bad?  I've been sticking up for you, and I'm not the only one.  Clint has been too.  It wasn't my idea to exclude you.  I told them they should invite you.  Steve felt like it was a good idea for everyone to have some space to cool down."

"By everyone you mean me."

"I mean Steve and Sam.  They've been a little riled since the gala."

"And you're not?"

Bruce gives him a wary look.  "I could tell something was going on with you that night.  It looked like you were ready to have a panic attack.  I didn't have a problem with you leaving."

Tony deflates a little at that.  Bruce is right, he hasn't done anything to Tony.  Since returning, he's been nice to him, has spent time with him, and Tony believes Bruce when he says he's been sticking up for him.

"I wasn't having a good night," Tony admits.  "I went the next morning to apologize to you and Steve, and it didn't go well."

"Why don't you try again?"

Because there's no good explanation for my behavior aside from the truth, and I can't give them that.  "Yeah, not gonna happen."

"Then what are we going to do to fix this?"

"Fix what?  As far as they're concerned, I'm not worth it."

"Clint and I think you're worth it."

Tony reaches up and rubs his forehead.  Great.  He'll take them and drag them down with him.

"You're not going to believe me, but Clint and I aren't the only ones."

"What do you suggest?  They're already cutting me out of team meetings."

"Ok," Bruce says.  "Why don't you just come up on your own to spend time with us?  You always wait until we invite you."

"You don't think that'll look like I'm just trying to be a jerk and inserting myself where I'm not wanted?"

Bruce snaps his mouth shut.

"See.  That's not going to go over well."  He drums his fingers on the workbench.  "You know, you and Clint haven't come down to see me in the last two weeks."

"I texted and called you for three days and you didn't pick up.  I figured you wanted time to cool off too."

Tony didn't want time to cool off.  He'd assumed that Bruce was just as mad at him as Steve and Sam were and had been calling and texting him to tell him that.

He takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, and then lets it out.  "So I just show up and say, 'want to watch a movie?'"

Bruce nods.

"Tomorrow."

"Right now," Bruce counters.

Tony stares at him.  "I just stormed out of a meeting with them forty minutes ago."

Bruce gives a nervous laugh.  "That was forty minutes ago."

Tony doesn't want to go back up there and face their anger… their angry looks and snide remarks, and be reminded yet again that he's been cut out of the team and is unwanted.

At the same time, he wants to go back up there and be part of the team he's not really meant to be a part of.  He wants it like the day he first figured out that he wanted it a few weeks after the team moved back in.

He stands up and says, "I'd offer to order takeout, but I don't want to be accused of throwing money around again."

"Why don't you just come upstairs to start.  We'll make tea and-"

"No tea," Tony says as they head out of the lab.

He doesn't elaborate and Bruce hesitates a moment before he says, "Coffee then."

"No coffee either."  He realizes that what he's saying sounds like he's just being difficult to deal with.  "Diet," he gives as an explanation.  He pats his stomach.  "Have to keep my slim figure."

Bruce gives a little laugh but doesn't say anything as they step into the elevator at the end of the hall.  Tony lets Bruce hit the button for the Avenger's floor.  Lately he's been pressing elevator buttons more times than is necessary.

When the doors slide open to the Avenger's living room, Clint and Nat are sitting on the couch eating lunch.  It looks like some kind of leftovers.

"There's more on the counter," Clint says.  Tony feels awkward being there, especially after storming out of the meeting.  He feels a little childish now, and wishes he'd stuck around and just stuck out Sam's anger.

He follows Bruce to the kitchen, and they each heat up a plate of leftovers in the microwave.  There's a lot of food, and he wonders if they'd had a big team dinner without him the night before.

A few minutes later, Tony follows Bruce back to the living room, and they sit down with their food.

"Steve told Sam to knock it off," Nat says.

Tony gives her a bewildered look.  "Why?"

"Because it was uncalled for.  We appreciate the money and resources you put into making the gala happen."

Tony tries to relax and to let all of the bad feelings from the meeting flow away.  He's almost successful.  He takes a bite of his lunch, feeling awkward.  "So how did the gala go?" he asks.  He can't stand awkward silences.

"That one guy you talked to donated forty thousand dollars," Clint says.  "He said you'd match whatever he donated."

"I did."  He hadn't realized the guy had given forty thousand, but Pepper had taken care of matching the donation he'd promised.

"A lot of people donated.  We raised almost half a million.  Fury was impressed," Nat says.

"Good.  Good cause."  Tony had spent some time looking into the organization they were raising money for in the days after the gala.  They did research on all sorts of neurological conditions affecting kids, including TS, ADHD, autism, OCD and other things.  Apparently it's an organization SI has been donating to for years.  It was on the list of charities PR had, and Steve had picked it wanting to do something good for kids.

"So, do you have any ideas for what we can do next time?" Bruce asks him.

Tony doesn't have a clue.  He doesn't want them to think he's being uncooperative though, so he has to come up with something.  "With the team back together, we're going to need to bulk up the fund for damages."

"Damages?" Nat asks.

"We do a lot of damage… when we go out.  Buildings… cars… civilian casualties.  SI runs the fund that cleans up and reimburses people… helps them rebuild.  We usually get some of the money from charity events."

"I didn't realize that was a thing," Clint says.

They're all looking at him again.  Tony shrugs.  "Sometimes we wipe out whole buildings.  People lose their homes.  The damage fund covers rebuilding."

It's one of the reasons he had been on board with signing the Accords, even though they weren't perfect at the time.  They still aren't.  Some of them are enhanced… they're a team, they do good, but they also have to be responsible for mistakes and try to cause as little damage as they can while they're out there.  He'd explained that to Steve, but Steve hadn't understood.  Bruce, Nat and Clint are looking at him now like they understand.  He wonders if they really do.

"I think that's a good idea," Bruce says.  "Not just for good press.  I don't really care about that."

"I like it," Nat agrees.

Things had been tense between Nat and Bruce when they'd first returned to the tower.  They'd had a relationship before Ultron, albeit a new one.  Tony doesn't think they're back together now, but they seem to have worked things out… put their differences aside.

If Nat and Bruce can learn to live with each other again after Bruce took off without a word for years, Tony thinks he's willing to give things another try with the team… with Steve and Sam.

Being praised by his team members feels nice… good in a way he's always craved but rarely ever gets unless he's with Pepper or Rhodey.  He wants this.  He wants to hang out with them more… not be cut out of team activities.

He'll have to do this again… just come up to hang out.  Even if they stop talking as soon as he walks in, because he'd tried that once before and it hadn't worked out.  Now, after today, he's got a fifty percent success rate.  Maybe he can raise his odds of success.

Chapter Text

Sam can't let it go.  It both annoys Clint and gives him time to pause and think, because the more that Sam complains, the more that what he's saying starts to make sense.

Clint wants to give Tony the benefit of the doubt… has been trying hard to do just that over the last month and a half, but it's getting harder and harder to believe that Tony doesn't know what he's doing.  It's always been Clint's policy to try to see the best in people, and there are a lot of good things about Tony.  There's no disputing the fact that Tony has housed them without complaint, that he built the compound for them without complaint and then remodeled an entire floor of his tower just for them.  Generally when he's with Clint or the rest of the team, he's friendly, even if he does sometimes get on people's nerves.  Getting on someone's nerves isn't something Clint would ever hold against him, especially not since Clint himself is frequently called out for doing the same thing.

He likes Tony.  He wants to be friends with him… had sort of been friends with him before the team fell out.  So yes, Clint wants to believe the best in him.

But Sam can't let go of his belief that Tony is being passive aggressive towards them all, and won't shut up about it.  Whenever someone brings Tony up, or after Tony leaves the Avengers floor, or if Sam is just sitting there thinking about it, he starts to complain to anyone that will listen.

"I don't care if he's angry or what he's angry about.  He can't keep coming in here and just breaking our stuff and knocking things over.  You know he threw stuff down after he stormed out of that meeting."

"He told me straight up, 'I do what I want,' right after he broke Steve's favorite cup, and that was after I told him it was Steve's favorite cup.  I set it down on the counter and he reached over and pushed it onto the floor!"

"So what if he replaces what he breaks.  It just proves that he knows what he's doing is wrong!"

"He's breaking cups and throwing stuff on the floor now.  What's next?  What does he have to do to prove to you that he's doing this on purpose?"

At first he tries hard not to think about what Sam is saying.  He tells Sam to pipe down and stop complaining a few times, but gives up after a while.  It's the most recent thing that Sam had said that has Clint mulling over his words.  "What's next?"

He tries to remind himself that after breaking the mug from Clint's kids that Tony had seemed genuinely remorseful.  He tries to remind himself that so far the guy has only broken a few mugs and knocked a few things to the floor.  "What's next?"

Tony is a good guy.  He is!  Clint can't see Tony doing these things with malicious intent, or doing anything to harm them.  He's not that kind of person.  "What's next?  What does he have to do to prove to you that he's doing this on purpose?"

There's something about Clint that most people don't know.  Or maybe they do, he's not really sure.  He's fiercely protective of those he cares about.  He'll lay down his life for any member of the team.  He's not particularly close to Steve, Bruce or Sam.  He's the closest to Nat, and he's been trying to get closer to Tony.  Tony feels like his friend.  Nat feels like his family.  He and Nat have been through hell and back together.  She's the godmother to all three of his children.  While he'd been able to handle being away from the rest of the team for two years, he'd really struggled being away from Nat, and had left home several times to sneak out of the country and into Wakanda to visit her.

While he'd lay down his life for the team, because that's what a good teammate would do, he'd burn the world down for Nat, or his wife and kids if it meant protecting them.

He's spent a few days mulling over Sam's question of "What next?  What will it take?"  The answer doesn't come to him until he sees Tony reaching out to knock Natasha's one and only mug off the kitchen table.

Natasha doesn't have many personal items.  There's a lot of reasons why.  She doesn't have the money to spend on new things for one.  For another, she knows that if she has to pick up and move from one place to the next in a hurry that she won't be able to take many things with her.  She has an old family photo, a worn hoodie that she refuses to sleep without, and one gray mug with a chip in the handle.  So when Clint sees Tony moving for the mug to destroy it, all thoughts of Tony being his friend, or of him being a good guy, or of trying to give him the benefit of the doubt fly out the window.  All he sees is Tony trying to hurt Tasha by destroying one of the few items that mean something to her, and he hears Sam's question playing through his mind.  "What does he have to do to prove to you that he's doing this on purpose?"

Hurt Tasha is the answer.  Clint is fucking done.

Clint lunges for Nat's mug and reaches it just before Tony can push it off the table.  He pushes it out of Tony's reach and thinks bizarrely that he'd caught a glimpse of relief on Tony's face, but that can't be right, because Tony is out to get Tasha now.

Mug safe, Clint wheels around to face Tony, reaches forward and shoves him hard in the chest.  It's hard enough that Tony stumbles back into the wall between the elevator and the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

"Clint!" Steve shouts.  Nat shouts something too, but Clint isn't listening.  He takes two steps forward and throws his forearm across Tony's chest to hold him up against the wall.

"Clint, you need to calm down," Steve says.

"Let him go," comes Bruce's voice from off to his right, but Clint's sole focus is Tony.

"What the hell Stark?" Clint shouts.  "You break my stuff, fine, but you leave Tasha alone!"  He expects Tony to answer him… to try to play this off as if it's nothing, but the man is just staring at him open mouthed.  Clint doesn't know what to do with that, so he lets his rage continue to boil over.  "You come in here and break everyone's stuff and I'm fucking done!"

Clint is ranting at him, but Tony loses the words amongst the things the rest of the team is shouting.  They could be shouting at him, or Clint, or even at each other, he's not sure.  This is a fucking mess.  Tony knows it is because Clint looks ready to hurt him.  Tony has only ever seen him like that on missions, and even then Clint is usually calmer.  He knows he's fucked up.  He can't help it.  He'd got up off the couch to search for a snack in the kitchen, and had seen a lone mug sitting on the dining table.  He hadn't realized it was Nat's until Clint had shouted at him to leave her alone.  It doesn't matter… the mug could have belonged to the president of the United States and Tony still would have pushed the mug to the floor.  He thinks they know this somehow, because whenever he walks into the room, they all pick their mugs up like he’s some sort of mug sadist that just loves throwing their coffee and tea to the ground.

Clint digs his arm into Tony's chest and Tony lifts his eyes up to him again.  His friend's face is red and he's still yelling.  He's going to hit me, Tony realizes.  He should say something to stop it, or fight back, or move away, but he won't.  Tony isn't going to stop him… isn't going to tell him that he can't help pushing things off of flat surfaces.  He knows this has been coming for a while, and if this is what it takes to make Clint feel better, he's not going to stop him.  He's going to let it happen.  They think he's a jerk, and he's going to be hit for it.  It's still better than them thinking he's a freak.

Tony doesn't pick up the thread of what Clint is shouting at him until Clint reels back to hit him, fist clenched tight, other arm letting up on Tony's chest just enough so he can shift and grab Tony's shirt to keep him from getting away.  He's saying something about not messing with his family.

Tony clenches his eyes shut, waiting for the blow, but a voice he doesn't expect shouts, "Stop!"  Bruce and Steve and Nat have been trying to talk Clint down… telling him to let Tony go, telling him to stop.  He's surprised to hear the word shouted in Pepper's voice however.  He thinks FRIDAY must have tattled on him… told her what was going on, because she never comes to the Avenger's floor and has no reason to be there now.

“Pep, it’s fine, just go,” Tony says, opening his eyes to find Clint’s angry gaze boring into him.  It’s not the first time that he’s been hit for this… or for other things.

“No it’s not, Tony.  I can’t let this go on."  Her voice is shaky, and he wonders if there's tears in her eyes, but he can't tear his eyes away from Clint's to look.  Clint still has his fist raised, but Pepper hurries over and pushes his arm down.  “Enough!”

“Pep-”

“No Tony!  This has gone on long enough!  They need to know!”

“Know what?” Steve asks, because Clint is still breathing hard… still gripping the front of Tony’s shirt tightly in his left hand, eyes boring into Tony’s.

Tony’s gut clenches.  She’s going to tell them.  She’s going to tell them everything, and there’s not a thing he can do about it.  He’s not mad at her, he’s just… he can’t do this.  He has to get out of there.

“He’s not breaking your things on purpose,” she says.  Tony's breath catches.  She'd asked a few weeks ago why he hadn't been spending much time with the Avengers.  He'd mentioned that he'd broken some of their things.  She'd encouraged him again to tell them the truth, but he'd refused.  Now she's going to tell them for him.

Clint scoffs at Pepper's words and so does Sam, who has his arms crossed over by the couch.

Tony reaches up with his hands and starts trying to pry his shirt out of Clint’s grip, but Clint only clenches his fist around the fabric tighter, his other hand still balled into a fist at his side, ready to knock some of Tony’s teeth out.

“He has Tourette's,” Pepper says.

Tony grimaces and holds in a groan, because he doesn’t want to draw any more attention to himself.  He tries tugging the fabric of his shirt out of Clint’s grip instead of prying his fingers up.  No one is looking at him thankfully.  Even Clint is looking at Pepper now.  That’s one thing he’s always loved about her, is her ability to command the attention of everyone in the room.

“You can’t just make shit up to excuse his bad behavior,” Sam says.

“I’m not.  He’s not doing it on purpose, and this- the way you’ve been treating him-”

Tony tunes her out as he works the fabric out of Clint’s grasp slowly.  If he just tugs a little harder- there.  He’s free, and Clint doesn’t move to grab his shirt again.  Tony slides sideways against the wall and out of Clint’s reach, and then strides quickly past Pepper and towards the elevator, which FRIDAY opens for him without him having to ask.

“Tony!” Pepper calls, but he’s already jamming his finger into the button to close the elevator door.

“Stark, wait a minute,” Steve calls, but it’s too late.  The elevator door slides closed and cuts Tony off from the room.

“Don’t open this door for them FRI,” Tony says, breathing heavily.  He slumps back against the wall and puts his head in his hands.  One breath- two- three- four.  This doesn’t have to become a panic attack, he thinks to himself.  He just needs to get out of the tower.  He’d worked so hard to hide it, and Pepper had finally had enough.

“Parking garage FRIDAY.”  The elevator starts to move downwards and he drops his hands from his face and stares up at the ceiling, trying to keep his breathing normal.  He can’t say that he blames Pepper.  She puts up with a lot, and he knows she cares about him.  He’d had it all under control though!

The image of Clint’s angry face comes back to him in that moment, clutching Tony’s shirt, fist raised to beat the hell out of him.

Ok, so maybe he doesn't have it all under control.  It doesn’t matter though.  It’s all out in the open now, whether the rest of the team believes it or not.  They probably won’t, he thinks.  Most of them have always believed the worst in him no matter what.  Steve especially.  Steve had blamed Ultron on him, and there were other things Steve had blamed him for before that.  And Nat had made that report to Fury about all of his negative personality traits.  He knows that the way Sam sees him is his own fault.  He hadn’t known Sam until after the Rogues had returned to live in the tower, and all he’s done since that time is break people’s stuff and act like a jerk.

He’s sad about Clint though.  Clint and Bruce have always been nice to him.  They’d been his friends, or at least, he’d counted them as friends.  Clint obviously thinks the worst of him now.  He has no idea what Bruce thinks about him, because he hasn’t seen that much of the man lately.  Tony has been going up to the Avenger's floor on his own, just like Bruce had told him, but Bruce has been busy, or depressed or- Tony really doesn't know.  All he knows is that Bruce hasn't been around much whenever he ventures up to spend time with the team.

Fine.  It’s all fine, Tony thinks as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open up to the parking garage.  He got along fine without the team before they came along, and he’ll get along fine without them now.  He’ll just stop going to the Avenger’s floor altogether.  Hell, if he really stops to think about it, he’s better off than he was before, because he has Peter now.  Peter knows about his tics and still thinks that Tony is all right… had told him outright that Iron Man is still his favorite Avenger.

Tony hurries to his car, gets in, and pulls out from the parking garage.  He needs to get away and clear his head.  His phone rings, but he doesn’t answer.  It’s probably Pepper.

Once he’s in traffic, he tries to make himself stop thinking about the team knowing… about them knowing and still hating him anyway. “You can’t just make shit up to excuse his bad behavior.”  It doesn’t matter how hard he tries to shut his brain off.  He can’t stop thinking about how little they think of him.  They think he’s a jerk.  They think he’s been breaking things on purpose… trying to harass them.  He was ok with it before, but suddenly he’s not ok with it anymore.  They’ve always thought the worst of him, even without him breaking their stuff, and now they hate him enough that Clint was ready to throttle him.  He can take a beating, he’s not worried about that.  He’s worried that he’ll return to the tower and find them all packing up their things to move out.

It shouldn’t bother him that much.  If they want to leave, then fuck them.  Let them go.  I'll be better off without them.  That’s what he tells himself… tries to convince himself.  That lie had never worked when he’d tried to convince himself about Howard shipping him off to boarding school and MIT.  He doesn’t know why he thought it would work now with the team.

“FRI, find me a souvenir shop or somewhere that sells mugs.”

“Turn left onto a one way street in two blocks,” FRIDAY’s voice comes out of his phone speaker.

Tony reaches up and rubs his forehead hard.  He can’t fix this, but maybe they’ll see that he’s trying.  Or maybe it won’t matter at all, like the box of mugs he’d tried to give to Clint.

* * *

Back at the tower, Nat and Steve stare into Tony’s dark, empty lab.  They’d gone down to talk to him, because his lab is where he lives when he’s trying to hide from people.  It’s clear that he’s not inside though.  The entire lab is shut down.

“FRIDAY, where is Tony right now?” Nat asks.

“Boss has left the tower.”

Nat and Steve share a look, and then look down the hallway to where Clint is leaning against the wall by the elevator, arms crossed and staring at the floor.

“You’d better hope he comes back,” Nat says angrily, striding past Clint and into the elevator.

Clint doesn’t say a word as he follows her inside, Steve close behind.

“He should have told us,” Steve says, voice hard.

Nat and Steve are both surprised when Clint says quietly, “Shut up.”

“What?”

“Just- shut up and let me think.  And don’t talk about him like that.”

“This all could have been avoided if he’d said something.  He should have told us.”

“He should have told me,” Clint says.  His tone is cutting, but Nat can tell that he’s more angry with himself than he is with Steve.  Then Clint’s eyes come up to Steve and his anger shifts to him.  “He would never tell you.”

“I’m the team lead.”

Nat wonders if Clint will try to push Steve, because he’s still riled up… shifting from foot to foot like he’s ready to fight somebody.  “You’ve always treated him like he’s nothing,” Clint snaps.  He opens his mouth to say something else, but the elevator stops at their level and the doors open.  He storms out.  Steve moves to go after him but Nat puts her hand on his arm to stop him.

“Let him go.”

Steve sighs.  “He should have told me,” he says again quietly.  He has a pained expression on his face.  After a moment he motions after Clint.  “I’m going to go see if Clint is ok.”

“He’s not ok,” Nat says.  “He almost hit Tony for something he has no control over.  He’s angry at himself.  Just give him some time to cool off.”

She steps out of the elevator, turns back and says, “And he’s right.  Tony had no reason to tell you.  He’s a private person and he was never going to tell someone he doesn’t trust.”

“He didn’t tell any of us.”

Nat frowns and nods.  “I know.”  She can see why he wouldn’t trust them after Germany, but she'd thought that the two of them had been friends before the team had fallen out.  Apparently not.  Tony hadn’t trusted any of them… not even Clint and Bruce, who he had been closest to.  She’s not sure if that says something about his lack of ability to trust, his lack of faith in them to not use what they know against him, or worse yet, their lack of ability or effort to gain his trust.

* * *

Tony drums his fingers nervously on the lid of the cardboard box on top of the stack.  He has five cases of mugs stacked on top of each other on a metal hand truck, waiting to be given to the team.  It’s the best he can do as an apology.  They’re probably expecting an explanation from him, but he doesn’t have one to give them.  All he knows is that he has to make this right, and that he'd run out of there like a coward as soon as Pepper had told them.  He’s not a coward and he has to show them that too.

FRIDAY had found a souvenir shop full of mugs and other sappy stuff tourists might want to have to remember their time in New York.  He has a case full of coffee mugs depicting different boroughs, things like the Brooklyn Bridge, the Staten Island ferry and the Statue of Liberty.  Cap ought to like that one, he thinks.

Two other cases hold Avenger’s mugs.  The store had had a surprising amount of them in stock.  The only ones he skipped buying were the ones with Iron Man.  After everything that's happened, giving the team a case of Iron Man mugs is probably not the best idea.  The store owner had been surprised to see him shopping for mugs, but even more surprised that he didn’t want any of the mugs with Iron Man.

The last two cases are full of mugs of random historic and natural sites around the state.  There are a few with waterfalls, Niagara Falls, and other things of that nature.  His plan is to go up to the Avenger’s floor, deliver the mugs, say he’s sorry, and hope that Clint isn’t still waiting to punch him in the face.  He guesses that if Clint is, he deserves it.

The elevator doors open up sooner than expected, and he looks out cautiously into the space.  Sam is sitting on the couch with Bruce, talking quietly.  Bruce notices him first since he’s facing the elevator.

“Tony?” Bruce asks.  He’s only been gone for an hour… maybe an hour and a half.  He’s surprised they’re not all still in the living room or kitchen complaining about him.

Sam looks over his shoulder at Tony, brows pulled together in a frown.  Tony pushes the hand cart with the stack of boxes out of the elevator and sets it down just in time for Steve and Nat to come out of the hallway leading to the private rooms and gear room.

“What’s this?” Steve asks, pointing at the stack of boxes.  Tony doesn’t pull his hand away from the handle of the hand truck.  He expects them to tell him to take his offering of mugs and leave, just like Clint had before.

“Mugs.”  He pauses, swallows hard, and then tries to pull out his friendliest, most unbothered voice.  “I’m going to break them all, so you might as well use them while they’re in abundance.”  He tries to make it sound like he’s joking, but his voice is too tight.  He can feel heat creeping up the back of his neck, and is sure his face is red with embarrassment.

None of them say anything.  They all just stare at him.  “Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk.  I don’t want to break your stuff.”

They’re still staring.  They don’t believe him.  Or maybe they do, and they think he’s a freak… a monkey that belongs in a circus, just like Howard.  Tony pulls his hand down off the hand truck and starts to back towards the elevator again.  He’s not a coward for leaving now, he’s just leaving because they don’t want him there.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Steve asks, voice hard and arms crossed.

“It’s not mission critical,” Tony says.  “Doesn’t affect my work.”  His mind flits to the piles of tools currently scattered on his lab floor.  “My AI is programmed not to let me knock shit down when I’m in the suit.”  He’d programmed JARVIS to lock his arms in place when he’d first built the Iron Man suit, if the AI thought he was going to start knocking things off of counters.  That had been a great idea, until he’d raised his arm up and blasted something off of a table one time on a mission with his repulsor.  Now FRIDAY has a much better algorithm set up to keep him from using his repulsors to obliterate things on flat surfaces that he doesn’t like.  “It wasn’t important,” Tony says.  “Doesn’t make a difference.”

“It makes a difference in how we treat you,” Nat says.  Her voice is a lot gentler than Steve's.

Tony really doesn’t think it would make a difference, at least not in a positive way.  If she had known she probably would have put it in her initial report to Fury.  Fury already has a poor impression of him without Tourette’s being added into the mix.

“You should have told us,” Steve says again, arms falling to his sides.  His voice is a little softer now.  “We’re a team.”

Are we, Tony wonders silently.  Are we a team?  He doesn't know.  He's wanted to be part of the team again, but he doesn't think he's been successful on that front since they've returned.  He's really not sure that he was ever a part of the team to begin with… that they'd ever fully accepted him to start.

Tony backs towards the elevator again, ready to get out of there and go back up to the safety of the penthouse, where he knows he's part of a team… a team he's had on his side for more than 15 years.  It’s at that moment that Clint comes out of the hallway leading to the bedrooms.  Tony thinks he might have been in the hall the whole time just listening.  “Leave him alone,” Clint tells Steve, voice hard.  Tony can hear from his tone and see from how tense Clint looks that he’s still angry.  He wonders if he’ll go back to the penthouse with a black eye or broken nose after all.  He tries not to flinch as Clint strides over to him and the stack of boxes full of mugs.  "It's not something he has to tell anybody."

Clint doesn’t make eye contact with Tony… won’t.  He picks up the heavy box on top, turns and starts to walk towards the kitchen with it.  “I want my box of mugs back… the ones with my kid’s faces.”

Tony stares at him as he walks away with the box.  He doesn’t know why Clint wants these mugs or the previous ones Tony had ordered… not after all this time.  Maybe he wants to set them up and shoot them for target practice.  Maybe Tony should have grabbed a case of Iron Man mugs as well.  Then Clint could have something good to aim at.

Nat grabs a box too, and Tony is surprised when Bruce and Sam come over from the couch and each take a box.

Steve is still watching him, but he’s keeping his mouth shut.  Tony finally turns and goes back to the elevator.

“Where are you going?” Nat asks.

He looks up and finds that they’re all watching him.  “Home.”  He needs to find Pepper and try to put out any fires that he’s started with her, and then hope she forgives him and will wrap him up in her arms.  That's all he wants now.

“We need to talk about this,” Nat says.

No we don’t, Tony thinks.  His face heats up again.  “Sorry, I’ve got things to do, places to be, a pissed off fiancée to apologize to… you know the drill.”  He presses the elevator button to close the door, and tries to ignore the urge to push it half a dozen times like when he’d escaped a couple hours ago.

The doors slide closed and Tony tries to get his muscles to relax.

In the Avenger’s living room, Sam asks, “What does he have to apologize to Pepper for?”

“Nothing,” Bruce says, sounding sad.

When Tony gets back to the penthouse to find Pepper, she's upset, but not with him.

“What all did you tell them?” he asks.

“Nothing.  I left right after you did.  I only told them what you heard… that you’re not doing it on purpose and that you have Tourette’s."  She bites her bottom lip, something he's only seen her do a handful of times when she's anxious.  "Tony, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to chase you out of the tower.  I was really worried you wouldn’t come back.”

“They didn’t believe you anyway.  No harm done," he says quietly, looking away and at the floor.  He sniffs once, but she knows him… knows how to read him, and doesn't believe that he's ok just because he said no harm was done.

“I just- I know I shouldn't have said anything to them," she says quietly.  "It's your life to tell them about if you choose to."  Her voice starts to raise a little as she continues talking, and fresh tears pool in her eyes.  "It’s so hard to watch them treat you like they do and to know that it’s all because of a misunderstanding.  You don’t deserve to be treated like that Tony!”

He stares at her in shock, feeling bewildered.  She sounds so earnest.  When Rhodey had told Happy, and later on Pepper, he'd patted Tony on the shoulder gently and told him in a calm voice that it was for the best… that it was in Tony's best interest.  Pepper had told the Avengers because she believed it was in his best interest, but now she can't stop crying about it, like she's committed a crime.

He wants to make her feel better, like he had tried to make Bruce feel better about not being there to fight beside him in Germany.  “I’m a jerk.  Doesn’t matter what they think I’m a jerk for.”

“No.”  She shakes her head and takes a tentative step forward, bringing her hand up to cup his cheek gently.  “You’re one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.  You’re not a jerk.”

He scoffs at that, because he can do and say some things that are pretty bad, but she somehow finds a way to look past all of that.  Always.

His goal is the same as when he'd left the Avenger's with their cases and cases of mugs five minutes before.  He wants her to hug him.  He wants to feel like he's part of this team.  She looks like she wants a hug too, so he opens his arms and holds them out to her.  She leans forward and hugs him, tentatively at first as if he might not want to be hugged, but then tightly when he doesn't push her away.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.  He hugs her tighter and thinks about saying 'don't be', but doesn't.  When he doesn't say anything after a few moments, she says, "I can't do anything to keep you safe when you're out fighting bad guys.  I couldn't do anything to help you when you had to fight Steve in that cave.  You were all alone."  He still doesn't respond, just stands there in her arms, soaking up her warmth.  She's not wrong, he thinks.  There was nothing she could do to help him then.  "You're not alone now though.  FRIDAY told me what was happening and I couldn't let them hurt you again."

He thinks about all the times he's been alone before.  He spent the first fifteen years of his life alone until he met Rhodey.  Then after college Rhodey had gone off to the military, and Tony was alone again, until he hired Happy and later on, Pepper.  Rhodey hadn't wanted him to be alone… had made sure that Happy and Pepper knew his secret so he wouldn't have to be.

He thinks about Peter fighting the Vulture alone… being trapped under a collapsed warehouse by himself because Tony had taken his suit and Peter hadn't been able to contact him.  He thinks about the way he rushes out to help Peter when he gets notified that he's dealing with bank robbers or enhanced villains, because he wants Peter to know that he's not alone… that he doesn't have to do this alone ever again.

He thinks about Peter telling him, "Uncle Ben's the best.  You're the best too."  Thinks that maybe Peter wanted Tony to know that he's not alone.

He hugs Pepper tighter.  There have been moments when he's been alone since he was fifteen, moments when he'd had to fight bad guys on his own, or faced down Steve in a cave in Siberia.  But he hasn't been alone for all that time, not really, because Rhodey, Pepper, Happy and Peter haven't let him be.

Chapter Text

Tony is pretty sure his offering of mugs has done nothing to help the situation.  It’s been two days and he hasn’t heard from any of the members of the team and hasn’t been invited to any sort of gathering or team briefing.  He's reminded of what Bruce had told him… that he can go up to the Avengers floor on his own.  The problem is, this time he really doesn't want to go up there.  He doesn't want to have Steve tell him yet again how he should have told them about his Tourette's.  He doesn't want to talk about it with Nat, or answer her questions, or hear her tell him that he should have mentioned it to them like it's just the easiest thing in the world to bring up.

He expects that the next time he sees any of them, that it will be Bruce, because Bruce is the one that comes down to his lab the most often, especially after Tony has fought or argued with the team.  What he doesn't expect is to see Clint standing outside his glass lab door on the third morning after his secret was revealed.

Clint doesn't knock.  He doesn't ask FRIDAY to request entrance.  Tony looks up and almost startles to find the man just standing there, watching him in a guarded sort of way.  He's not scared of Clint.  He'd like to say he's not scared of any of them, but even just thinking about it makes him remember the look in Steve's eyes as he raised his shield above his head for the killing blow while all Tony could do was raise his arms up to shield his face.

He stares at Clint for long moments and thinks about turning on the intercom and asking if Clint is there to give him a black eye after all.  He huffs a quiet laugh to himself at the thought, even though he doesn't smile.  It's funny, at least to him, but somehow he doesn't think Clint will find it funny.

He can't stand awkward silences, and even though Clint is on the other side of a soundproof wall of glass, this counts as one.  He doesn't like just staring through the glass at the man.  Tony tells FRIDAY to turn on some music and to turn it up loud, and then as soon as the music is playing over the speakers, he tells the AI to let Clint in.

The door clicks open and Clint pushes it just enough to stick his head inside.  "Can I come in?" he asks over the noise.

Tony huffs another little laugh.  If he didn't want Clint to come in, the door wouldn't have opened for him.  "Be my guest."

Clint frowns at that but steps inside, letting the glass door fall closed behind him.  He sticks both of his hands in his pockets.  Tony thinks it's odd for Clint to do something like that, because it's usually Tony putting his hands in his pockets, trying to keep his hands and himself out of trouble.  Clint doesn't move across the lab towards him.  He just hovers by the door.

"Might be kind of hard to talk with the music this loud."

"Not if you come over here it won't be," Tony says.  When Clint doesn't move, Tony rolls his eyes and tells FRIDAY to turn the music down by half.  "So… you need a bow modification?  Arrows?"

"No."  Clint trails off and doesn't say what he is there for.  Tony thinks he's probably there to talk about Tourette's, but that's the last thing Tony wants to talk about.  Maybe Clint is there to tell him that he's off the team… or that he's too weird and they don't want him to come around anymore unless it's for a mission briefing or work they have to do.  They'd accepted the boxes of mugs, but that doesn't mean they forgave him for breaking their other mugs and cups, spilling orange juice, water and other things all the time.

"Well, what is it Katniss?" he asks, voice tight.

Clint opens his mouth but no words come out.  He closes it, opens it, and tries again.  "You weren't going to defend yourself," is what he finally says, and even over the still playing music, Tony can hear that Clint sounds hollow… quiet… lost.

He frowns, completely confused.  "What?  When?"  Immediately after he asks he realizes that this is about the other day.  He should have known, but he can't quite equate the way that Clint looks and sounds lost with the phrase, "You weren't going to defend yourself."

"When I was going to hit you," Clint offers up as an explanation, voice still quiet.  He looks away, eyes shifting down.

Tony still has no idea why Clint looks like that… like he's ashamed.  He'd had a good reason to hit him if he thought that Tony was knocking Nat's things off the table on purpose and trying to break them.  Tony had given them no real reason for his behavior and all the reason to think poorly of him.  "No offense, but if I have to get hit, I'd rather it be by you than by Steve or the Hulk.  I can take a hit from you."  Somehow his words don't fix things like he hopes they will.  Clint looks up at him, mouth hanging open a little, but that only lasts for a moment and then he goes back to looking ashamed again.

"You don't have to get hit," Clint says, voice growing hard.  He takes a step forward, then seems to think better of it and steps right back to his spot by the door.  It's all bizarre to Tony.

"Is there a reason you're standing all the way over there?"

"Is there a reason you're acting like this is no big deal?" Clint counters, voice still hard.  Hard, but not angry.  Tony doesn't answer, and Clint's voice softens and grows quiet again.  "I almost hit you man… for something you have no control over."

"Yeah, not gonna lie," Tony says, and he's still using a light tone, like none of this bothers him at all.  It bothers him that they know, and that Pepper told them, but this?  Getting hit over it?  This is nothing new.  "Getting hit sucks, but it's nothing I haven't dealt with before."

"You've been hit for this before?" Clint is so quiet that Tony is tempted to turn the music the rest of the way down so he can hear him.

"I grew up in boarding schools, what do you think? I didn't know what the hell was wrong with me until I was fifteen and Rhodey came along.  Kids would just walk up to me and hand me shit to see me throw it down and then beat me up for being weird."  He shrugs again.  "So like I said, no big deal."  He doesn't mention that Howard never cared that he was getting bullied at school, because he was just as big of a bully on the rare occasions that Tony went home between terms.  It was only after he was at MIT that he stopped going home for holidays and summers, and Howard seemed happy to have him stay away for as long as possible.  That had suited Tony just fine, because by that point, Rhodey was his family, and he had been trying hard to pretend that he didn't need anyone else.

"That's messed up," Clint says.  He finally takes a few tentative steps forward, eyes on Tony, and when Tony doesn't object to him coming closer, he continues over to Tony's workbench, careful to stay on the opposite side.  "And it was messed up what I did the other day.  If I had known, I never would have done that.  I thought you were doing it on purpose, and I didn't care that you did it to me or the others, but I couldn't let you break Tasha's stuff on purpose."

"I don't have any reason to break people's things."

"I know," Clint says, and now that he's closer, Tony can see the other man's face heat up.  He can see in full detail the shame playing across the archer's features.  He kind of wants Clint to go back across the room so he doesn't have to see it.

"So is everyone still mad at me?" Tony asks.

"No one is mad at you."

"Cap might disagree."

"He can shut the hell up then," Clint says, and his voice grows hard again.  The last few minutes he's been like a yo-yo, ashamed and quiet and then full of conviction.  Tony's starting to feel like he's going to get whiplash.  He's never seen Clint act like this before.

Clint reaches up and rubs the bridge of his nose, leaning on the messy metal workbench with his other hand.  Tony casually pushes a screwdriver off the workbench and it clatters to the floor, startling Clint.  It's one of the few times he didn't feel a compulsion to do it, but did it just because.  In this case he did it to make Clint look up at him again.  It works.  Clint startles, pulls his hand away from his face, and looks up at him.

"All right, so no one's mad.  We can move on and you can stop looking all conflicted over there," Tony says, motioning up and down towards Clint.

The archer stares at him for long moments.  "I almost hit you, and you're ready to just let it go?"

"I expected one of you to hit me for this a long time ago, and like I said, I'd rather it be you than Steve or the Hulk.  From you I'd get a black eye, from them I'd get crushed.  I've been hit by Cap before.  Gotta tell you, I don't want to end up back in the hospital for another month."

Clint blinks once, twice, and then shouts suddenly, startling Tony.  "I'm sorry, WHAT?!  When did he put you in the hospital?!"

Tony subconsciously reaches up and rubs his chest where the reactor used to be… where his sternum had been crushed by Steve's shield.  "Not important."

"No, I'm pretty sure having a member of the team put you in the hospital is pretty fucking important."

"We weren't team members anymore.  It happened after Germany."  If Tony doesn't want to talk about his Tourette's, then he really doesn't want to talk about this.  "Change of subject."  The way he says it makes him want to grimace.  He sounds like he's pleading, and his tone catches Clint off guard just enough to make him stop his line of questioning.

"I'm not going to try to hit you again.  Ever," Clint says after a moment.

"Good to know.  You're probably going to regret that though."  Tony smiles to himself.

"No, I won't."

"You don't know how big of an ass I can be.  If I advertised that people could take a free shot at me, people would be lined up for miles."  Clint looks up, and his eyes are so full of remorse that Tony shuts his mouth and stops talking.

"I know how much of an ass I can be.  Was.  And I know you would never hurt Tasha or anyone I care about on purpose.  I knew that and I should have thought harder about that before.  It doesn't matter what you do, I'm not going to raise my fist to you again."

Tony has never received a promise like that before.  He's never needed that promise from certain people… but it's nice to have from someone now.  He's been close to people before and believed they wouldn't hurt him, and then had them do terrible things.  Howard, Obadiah, and Steve come to mind right off the bat, and it's the first time Tony realizes that he classes Steve right there beside Howard and Obadiah.  It's a disturbing thought.

"I mean it," Clint says, and he sounds so earnest that he draws Tony's eyes back up from where he's been staring at the workbench.

"I know."  Tony doesn't know what else to say.  He believes him.  It feels like there's way more to Clint's words than what was actually said, but Tony doesn't know exactly what hidden meaning there is.

"Do you want me to leave?" Clint asks.  He must have said all he came to say.

"Do what you want.  I'm just working out the kinks in a piece of tech."

Clint looks around and finds a tall rolling stool and sits down.  He doesn't ask what Tony is working on.  He rarely does when he comes down to the lab, either because he knows he won't understand the technical jargon or just doesn't care to hear about it.  Tony is fine with that.  The music is still playing in the background, loud enough to drown out uncomfortable silences or to let Tony lose himself in his work.

"You can come back you know."

Tony had thought the conversation was over, but apparently not.  "Hm?" He's already looking down inside the gear assembly he's working on, trying to tighten a tiny screw deep inside.

"We want you to come up and hang out.  You don't have to stay away."

It's the same thing Bruce had told him weeks before.  "I know."

"Steve will leave you alone."

Tony looks up from what he's working on.  "Are you trying to convince me?"

"Maybe."

"I'm not going up there just to get ambushed and asked all kinds of questions about-" he's going to say Tourette's, but can't bring himself to.  He's never said it out loud before… not about himself.  He's never had to.  Clint catches his meaning anyway.

"I get it.  They'll leave you alone."

"Uh huh."

Tony doesn't agree to go up to the Avenger's floor.  Clint stays for another hour, sitting in a silence that feels awkward for a few minutes, but evens out as the music continues to play.  He plays on his phone and watches Tony work, before finally inviting him to a meal (which Tony declines) and then leaves the lab.

All in all, it was sort of awkward, but better than Tony could have expected given that three days before, Clint had been ready to beat Tony to a pulp, and Tony had been ready to let him.

* * *

Bruce comes down next.  He catches Tony on his way out of the lab the next day and asks if Tony wants to grab a bite to eat.  "I'm buying," Bruce says.

"I don't need you to buy."

"I want to.  Chinese?  Just not that place from last time."

"Pretty sure if you're buying you get to pick wherever you want."  He's not sure why Bruce wants to buy him lunch, and hopes it's not because he's trying to lull him into a sense of security and then start peppering him with questions.  If that happens, Tony thinks he isn't above just leaving Bruce at whatever restaurant they're at and letting him make his own way back to the tower.

They make it to a hole in the wall Chinese place, grab their food, and then make it through a meal back at the tower without incident though.  They eat in Tony's lab, talk tech and science, and then Bruce leaves.  No questions, no comments about the incident with Clint, just a couple of hours spent hanging out.

Tony doesn't dare believe he can be so lucky with the others.

* * *

He decides not to find out if Nat, Steve and Sam will be as relaxed about things as Bruce and Clint have been.  He still thinks Bruce and Clint are just waiting to ask him about his weird mannerisms, but he doesn't want to speed towards that conversation and is positive that that's exactly what is going to happen if he encounters the others.  So he doesn't go up to the Avengers floor.

A couple days after lunch with Bruce, he fails to hold in a groan when FRIDAY notifies him that there's someone in the elevator waiting to be let into the penthouse.

"Who is it, FRI?"

"Miss Romanoff and Mr. Barton."

Tony groans, and then he groans again when he goes to the elevator since he was passing by anyway, and hits the button to open it.  The doors slide open and he finds Clint and Nat holding a tray full of coffee from Starbucks and a bag of pastries.  Despite not wanting to be peppered with questions or to discuss things at all with Nat, he can't help a little trill of excitement at the thought of having an early breakfast with them.  Pepper is already out because she had to travel to New Jersey for an early meeting, so it's just the three of them.

"Can we come in?" Nat asks, holding up the cardboard tray with three coffees.  It's only after she asks that Tony realizes he's just been standing there for several moments without saying anything.

He steps aside and says, "What's this?"

"Breakfast," Clint says.  He gives Tony a wide berth as he passes him.  Tony frowns at that but doesn't comment on it.  He's reminded of Clint standing all the way across his lab earlier in the week.

Nat takes the coffee to a little table in the dining room up against the wall of windows, and Clint and Tony follow.  There's a larger table for big meals, but this is Tony and Pepper's favorite place to share a cup of coffee or have breakfast.  It's cozy and the chairs are soft, comfortable leather chairs.  They'd only recently added a third chair for Peter because he's been coming over on weekends a lot more than he used to.  Sometimes he swings by as Spider Man just to say hi, and other times he stays for the entire day.  A few times he's spent the night after coming in late as Spidey to get patched up after a bad fight with criminals.

"You know, I don't think I've been up here since we fought Loki," Clint says, looking around as he sits down at the little table and pushes the bag of donuts towards Tony.

"We've remodeled a couple times since then."

"Yeah?  Been fighting more Asguardians?"

"Try a scientist that accidentally turned himself into a giant lizard."

Nat's hand pauses over the cup of coffee she's pulling out of the cardboard container.  "When did you fight a lizard man?"

Tony opens his mouth and is about to say, 'Peter and I,' but catches himself just in time.  "Spidey and I took him down trying to rob a jewelry store.  He was low on funds and trying to find a way to turn himself back into your regular run of the mill mad scientist.  Turns out he had an accomplice we didn't know about that busted him out of jail before SHIELD could come get him.  Two days later he broke in here and the kid and I had to take him out a second time."

"Revenge?" Clint asks.

"No, he figured I probably had some tech that could help him or that he could sell for funds."

"Spider Man must live nearby if he was able to get here that fast to fight him," Nat says.

"He was here when it happened.  We were down in the lab working on his gear when FRIDAY notified us that there was a break in.  Luckily Pepper was still at work at a meeting that ran late."  Tony motions around the penthouse.  "Had to replace the kitchen island and a couple windows.  No big deal."

"When are we going to meet him?" Nat asks about Spider Man.

"Don't know, our schedules don't always match up."

Nat lets it go, recognizing Tony's evasion of the question.  He almost wishes she would press him on it when an awkward silence settles over them as they eat their pastries and drink their coffee.  He starts to get anxious, because awkward silences do that to him, and the skin on his right hand starts to crawl.  He pushes the rest of his raspberry jelly donut, sitting on a napkin in front of him, right off the table.  It hits the expensive tile floor with a little 'splat' sound.

If the silence was awkward before, it's even more so now.  Clint glances down at the pastry between he and Tony, then makes an effort to pull his eyes back up and ignore it.  Nat just reaches into the bag and pulls another pastry out and hands it to him.

"Don't," Tony says.  She tries to set it on the table in front of him, and he says, "Don't do that either.  Put it back or it's going to end up on the floor."  He expects her to ask why, but she doesn't.  She simply puts the donut back in the white paper sack and picks up her coffee to take a sip.  "You aren't even going to ask?" he says both wary and frustrated, because the silence is stretching out between them and starting to feel suffocating.  He thinks they both look like they want to ask.

Both of them remain silent, Clint shooting Nat a panicked 'what do we do?' look.  Tony rolls his eyes, looks at the ceiling, and grounds out, "Ask."

"You didn't want us to ask," Nat says, taking another sip of her coffee like all of this is no big deal.

"I don't, but here we are.  I knocked shit down and now it's weird."

"It's not weird," Clint tries to protest.

"Yeah, me knocking food to the ground isn't weird," Tony says in a huff.  Usually Pepper doesn't let him get this sarcastic about things, but Pepper isn't there at the moment.

Neither one of them ask anything except that Nat says, "When can I hand you your other donut?"

"Never," Tony says, and Nat raises her brow.  He sighs heavily.  "I don't like to be handed things."

"You don't like to, or you can't be handed things?" she asks.

"Can't," he says, voice tight.  He hasn't had to talk about this since he discussed it all with Rhodey at MIT at fifteen years old, trying to figure out what was going on with him and how to fix it.  When Rhodey had told Pepper and Happy that he has Tourette's, they'd both been observant enough to figure out for themselves what was going on, and hadn't asked Tony anything about it.  It wasn't until after he and Pepper had been dating for a few weeks that she'd asked why he sometimes pushes down one item, and sometimes multiple items, and he'd explained that when he's stressed out it all gets worse.  "Pretty sure I told all of you when we first met that I don't like to be handed things."

"You did," Nat says.

"I forgot."  Clint sounds like he's feeling guilty again.  Tony wishes he wouldn't.

"If someone hands something to me, it goes on the floor.  I can't stop it from happening, it just happens," Tony says, trying to fill the silence again, and ignore the guilty look on Clint's face.

Nat nods.  "Can I slide the bag over to you then?"

"You can set stuff down on the table and I can pick it up.  I can't take the other pastry right now though."

"Because?"

He thinks he's made a mistake opening the door up to questions like this.  At the same time he feels like he should push through it and just get it over with.  Maybe Nat and Clint will tell the others about all the weird shit he does and the rules, like not handing him things, and then he won't have to tell them himself.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and then rubs his eyes.  He takes a steadying breath and says, "I'm stressed out right now, and it's worse when I get stressed out."  He doesn't normally like to admit when he's struggling, or feeling any kind of hard emotion at all, but he figures that everyone gets stressed out sometimes, for a variety of reasons, and that sometimes people know when he's stressed out anyway because he starts to snap at them.  He's kind of snapping at them now.  He pulls his hand away from his eyes and picks up his coffee just to have something to do while he talks.  He takes a sip and tries to erase any hints on his face that he's stressed out at all… like admitting it to them doesn't matter if he can hide all the evidence.  "Normally it's just single items sitting on a flat surface… a mug on a table, or a pen on a counter.  Those things have to go to the floor.  I can try to hold it off sometimes… force my hand not to reach out and push something down, but the longer I hold back, the worse the sensation gets, and then I end up pushing all kinds of things down.  Sometimes I reach over and push single items down without even thinking about it, and it's not a choice then.  That's just the way it is.  It's always been that way."

He notices that Nat's eyes start to travel around the penthouse, from the larger dining table, to the kitchen island, and then to the coffee table in the living room.  They're all clean, no items of any kind on the surface.  When Tony goes to make himself food, he always pulls out two or three items at a time and sets them all down on the counter at once, so there's not a single item there to push down.  Pepper does the same thing if Tony's in the room when she's fixing food, or if they sit down at a conference table to have a business meeting.  In the last ten years she's always had her assistant set out multiple pads of paper or other items on conference tables before the meeting starts if Tony is supposed to be in attendance.

"We won't hand you things anymore," Nat says.  "And we'll make an effort not to leave single items laying around."

"The Avengers floor is for you guys.  You don't have to do that.  You're the ones living there, not me."

"And you're an Avenger," Nat counters.

In his head, Tony asks, 'Am I?'  Sometimes he's really not sure.

"Is there anything else?" she asks.

"I don't do handshakes.  That's it."  Three things.  Three things isn't that bad, is it?  Well, there's tic attacks too, but he's not about to go into that with them.  He is never going to let them see that happen to him.  Never.

"Is that what happened at the gala?"

Tony frowns and looks up at Nat.  "What?"

"Steve was upset that you wouldn't shake a donor's hand, and that when you did, you wiped your hand on your pantleg."

He nods.  "I can hold hands, I can't shake hands.  I always wipe my hand on my pantleg after.  I can't stop it from happening.  It's automatic.  My brain just does shit like that."

"Was Steve being a jerk to you for that at the gala?" Clint asks.  "Is that why you left?"

Oh yeah.  Three things, plus tic attacks, and the fact that he has a really hard time being around other people that have tics.  He's not going to tell them about that either.  "Change of topic."  And just like that, the questioning is over.  They don't press him.  They don't beg him for details, or put him down for his tics, or call him names, or tell him he's weird.  They just let it go and move on.  Nat looks across the little table at Clint and asks if he's going home for the weekend for Lyla's birthday in a few weeks.

The raspberry donut still lies where it fell between him and Clint, but the air around them doesn't seem so heavy to Tony anymore, and he's hopeful he won't have to have this conversation with them again, or with anyone else.

Telling people about something that he's tried to keep hidden for his entire life is hard.  He doesn't think it will ever get any easier.

* * *

Tony thinks that Nat and Clint must have told the others, because the next time he sees Bruce, his friend makes an effort not to break any of Tony's rules.  He has no reason to try to shake Tony's hand, so that one doesn't count, but he and Bruce are working on something in his lab, and when Tony asks Bruce to bring him something from across the room, Bruce sets it down on the messy workbench and lets Tony pick it up.  Later, they go up to the penthouse to grab a cup of coffee, because Tony is out of coffee in his lab, and Bruce holds onto his mug instead of setting it down on the empty kitchen island.  He doesn't clutch it to his chest like the others had been doing for the past month, he just holds onto it, and only sets it down on the counter after Tony pulls a big bowl of leftovers out of the fridge and sets it on the counter along with two plates.  With three items already on the counter, Bruce sets his mug down and abandones it to scoop some food out onto a plate for himself.

Tony stares at Bruce's mug, not feeling the compulsion to knock it down at all.  He stares at it and thinks about what this means.

It means he doesn't have to be stressed out about knocking things down in front of them anymore.  He doesn't have to, because they're making an effort not to set his biggest tic off, and because the day before when he'd pushed his donut onto the floor, Clint and Nat had acted like it was nothing.

He can push things down now and it won't matter, or he can walk into a room on the Avenger's level and not worry about finding single items on the table or counter.

"The Avengers floor is for you guys."

"And you're an Avenger."

He still doesn't know if he is, or if he isn't… if he feels like he's part of the team or not, but suddenly he feels like he's welcome there on the Avengers floor… like it's as much a part of his home as the rest of the tower… as the lab and penthouse are.  He's welcome, because he's welcome to be himself.

"Tony, how much of this are you having?  Want me to make something else to go with it?" Bruce asks behind him.  He must be hungry and asking if he can take the bulk of the leftovers.

Tony smiles to himself, back still to his friend.  He'd told Nat and Clint about his tics, and that was hard, but the results of that conversation?  He likes the results a lot.

* * *

Clint and Tony stare for a moment at the spilled coffee on the floor of the Avenger's kitchen.  Clint had come down to his lab to get him and bring him up to the Avengers floor.  Everyone else is out and Clint wants to watch some new movie about mutant's taking over the world that he's excited about.  As soon as they'd made it to the kitchen, Tony had spotted a mug half full of coffee sitting on the counter by the sink and knocked it down.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't see it before I went to get you," Clint says.

Tony shrugs and then looks at Clint to gauge his reaction by the look on his face.  He looks sorry, if anything.

"No big deal, at least I didn't break it this time."  Tony stoops down to pick up the mug, and then grabs a hand towel off the counter and drops it on the floor, using his foot and the towel to mop up the mess.

"Have you ever pushed your own mug down?" Clint asks.  He sounds a little hesitant to ask, but Tony doesn't tense up at the question.  Now that Clint knows, Tony doesn't feel stressed out about telling him.

“FRIDAY?” Tony says to the ceiling.

“This month, Boss has dropped or otherwise caused his own coffee mug to end up on the floor, seventeen times.”

“It’s only the 10th,” Clint says, mouth hanging slightly open.

“Last week I had a rough day.”  Tony waves his hand like it's no big deal.

“How do you even?” Clint asks.  How do you even get any coffee in you, Tony thinks is the question he's really asking.

“Metal mug with a spill proof lid.”

"Maybe I'll invest in one of those."

Tony laughs, and doesn't stop.  It seems to break a spell that's been over Clint since the incident two weeks prior where Tony almost caught Clint's fist with his face.  Clint laughs too.

"What?  And throw out all those mugs I had made with your kids' faces?"

"Oh no, I'm going to cherish those forever," Clint teases.  "I shipped four home to Laura.  One for her and each of the kids.  The kids asked why I had them made and I told them I just loved them that much."

"Good thinking."  Tony is grateful that Clint doesn't seem to have told his family about his Tourette's, or at least Tony doesn't think he has.

* * *

The next time Tony goes up to the Avenger's floor, this time all on his own looking for Bruce, he stops off to grab a cup of coffee and finds six new mugs in the cupboard.  All of them are metal travel mugs with plastic lids that screw on, and a little flap on top that closes to keep liquid in if the cup is knocked over.  They're not just any mugs either, they're the same exact ones he has a dozen of.  He wonders if Clint or Bruce asked FRIDAY which ones he uses and then went and bought some.

He stares at the mugs in the cupboard for a moment, and then pulls one out and pours himself a cup of coffee.  He turns and looks around the kitchen and living area.  The kitchen table has a fruit basket with several oranges in it.  Four items on the table.  He wonders if that's for him, so that people can set things on the table without any single item ending up there all alone.  His suspicions are confirmed when he spots a stack of magazines on the coffee table in the living room, and then notes that there are three cookbooks stacked on top of each other at the end of the counter on the kitchen island.  He turns around and finds that the main kitchen counter has nothing on it, but it doesn't really need to because it has a coffee pot and a microwave, so there's already two items there.

The Avengers common area has effectively been Tony-proofed.  He's speechless.  The only ones to ever go to this kind of trouble, or put this much thought into things where it concerns him are Pepper, Rhodey and Happy.  It's not something he had expected given his tenuous relationship with most of the Avengers.

"The Avengers floor is for you guys."

"And you're an Avenger."  Nat's words echo through his mind again.

Am I though?  His eyes travel around the large room again.  He thinks he just might be.

* * *

There's been a lot going on and a lot to think about, so despite the fact that the first ever Avengers charity gala was a terrible experience for Tony, it's slipped his mind.  He really hasn't thought about it at all since that night, so he's a little surprised when he gets a call from someone that says they were at the gala.  He's not even sure how they got his number.  The PR department doesn't have his personal number to give out, and even if they did, they would know better than to give it to anyone.  That leaves Avengers as the only possible suspects.  He's so busy wondering who's been busy handing out his cell phone number willy-nilly that he almost forgets that someone is on the other end of the line until the man's voice comes out of the phone again.

"Mr. Stark, are you still there?"

"I'm sorry, who did you say you are?"

"Bran Cartright.  We met briefly at the Avengers charity gala.  I run a foundation that aims to educate people about Tourette's syndrome and advocate for those that have it.  If you'll recall, you promised to match any donation I made that night."

"Right.  Of course.  I matched it."

"Yes, I know you did.  Miss Potts sent over the paperwork proving as much.  Thank you."

Tony holds in a groan that wants to escape.  This guy was the only one he'd spoken to that night aside from Steve and Bruce, and Tony had made a fool of himself in front of him.  He hopes the man isn't calling now to tell him how offended he was.  The gala was a full month ago.

"The reason I'm calling is because I was wondering if you would be willing to talk to some children our foundation works with that have Tourette's."

"Sure, I'll send them some Iron Man merchandise and an autograph."

"No, you misunderstand.  I hope you don't think I'm being rude, but do you have an official diagnosis for Tourette's yet?"

Tony's mouth goes dry and his mind goes blank.  "What?" He hates that his voice comes out sounding meek and surprised.

"That was rude, I'm sorry.  I didn't want to assume that you had an official diagnosis.  I noticed some of what was happening in the brief time you were present at the gala.  The reason I wanted to know if you'd be willing to speak with some of the kids our organization works with, is because a lot of them have pretty severe Tourette's, and they see it as a barrier to living a normal life.  They've had people in their lives… teachers… parents even, tell them that they'll never be able to go to college, or get a job to support themselves.  Some of them have experienced some pretty horrific bullying… name calling, put downs, that sort of thing, even from teachers at school.  Knowing that Iron Man, one of their favorite hero's is dealing with some of the same things as they are could help give them some hope that they can have a normal life.  There's nothing wrong with them, as I'm sure you know Mr. Stark.  There's nothing wrong with them at all.  They're just neurodiverse."

Neurodiverse.  That's not a term Tony has heard before.  The way Mr. Cartright puts it, he makes it sound like Tony's brain is normal… just a different kind of normal.  Freak, freak, freak.  He reaches up and rubs his forehead.  Fun, not a freak.  "I'm not sure what to say."  Not a freak, just neurodiverse.

"I realize, given that the media hasn't covered this, especially given your political and financial standing, that it's probably something you don't tell people about.  If you want to continue to keep this from people, that's your right, and I understand.  I won't tell anyone.  If you change your mind though, you could really help a lot of people.  One of the things we do here is help people realize that they're not alone.  One in a hundred people falls somewhere on the TS spectrum.  We help them realize that there are a lot of other people out there just like them, adding to the neurodiversity of the population.  Sometimes knowing that you're not alone can make all the difference, and I really think that for these kids, knowing that they're like Iron Man can help them to feel proud of who they are instead of believing what they're hearing other kids say to them in school."

Proud.  Tony often pretends to be proud of who he is… overconfident about his wealth, status, and abilities.  He's never been proud though, because in the back of his mind, even though he doesn't want to, he remembers and believes Howard's words… believes that he's a freak.

"Mr. Stark?"

One in a hundred people.  One percent of the population.  That's a lot of kids out there believing just like Tony that they're a freak, because that's what they've been told, if not at home then by kids at school.  He's not proud of who he is, but he does know who he is, and who he is is Iron Man.  And Iron Man helps people.

"Can I- get some information?  A pamphlet or something.  Something you'd give to new kids who come in?"

"Why don't you come down to see us?  We can connect you with all kinds of resources.  We work with adults too."  The man's voice is soft.  He doesn't pretend like he's trying to give Tony information that will just tell him about the organization or convince him to lend his time to talk to some children.  He knows that Tony is asking for himself, and he doesn't act as though it's something to be ashamed of… he doesn't offer him any pity either, and Tony is grateful for that.

"Today?"  His throat is still dry, his voice quiet.

"Today, tomorrow, whenever you're ready, we'll be here," Mr. Cartright promises.

After they hang up, Tony sits back in his chair and thinks about what was said.  He doesn't know if he's ready to go down to the foundation.  He doesn't know if he's ready for people to know that he has Tourette's when he's spent his entire life trying to hide it.

"Am I running Howard Stark’s freak show?"

"Am I running Howard Stark’s freak show?"

"Am I running Howard Stark’s freak show?"

Tony doesn't know the answer to that either.  He never did.

* * *

They do an intake when he gets there… a full on intake like he's one of their new clients.  He fills out a packet of paperwork, refuses to put down his health insurance provider, scribbling instead 'I'll pay with cash,' and then in under thirty minutes he's sitting in a private office with an intake specialist.  He wonders what it is that makes this guy a specialist, other than that he only works with people that have Tourette's.  Tony's eyes rove the walls and find a framed degree, two more framed degrees beside that one for neurology and psychology.  This is the last place he ever expected to find himself sitting.

The specialist goes through a questionnaire with him, asking about his tics and when they started.  Tony is nervous about answering questions like this when he's spent so long avoiding questions about the subject or making up lies to cover up his odd behaviors.  The specialist wants to know about his tics going all the way back to as early as he can remember, including tics he doesn't have anymore.  Before he'd gone inside, he'd wondered if talking to people about his Tourette's would be any easier now that he's talked about some of his tics with Natasha and Clint.  It's definitely not easier, he decides.

He's in there with the specialist for an hour before the guy turns to him and says, "Based on everything you've told me, and your past and current symptoms, I'm going to give you an official diagnosis of Tourette's."

"I knew that already."

The man nods.  "Sometimes having an official diagnosis can give a little peace of mind.  Now that you have a diagnosis, I can help you out with some resources and talk about potential treatment."

"I've read about Tourette's before."

The doctor nods and gives him a smile.  "There's a lot of information out there.  I was thinking more about support groups and-"

"No support groups," Tony cuts him off, voice firm.

The specialist frowns for a moment.  "Some of them are online, and you can sign up with an anonymous username if you'd prefer."  He opens a file folder and pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Tony.

"Can you set that down?  I'll pick it up."

"Of course."

It's a list of local in person support groups, but the second half of the list are online support groups.

"You're not alone, and you don't have to be," the specialist says.  "Even if you choose to remain anonymous, being able to talk to other people who have experienced some of the same things as you can be a big help."

Tony doesn't hand the paper back to him.  He doesn't know if he'll participate in any of the online groups, but he's intrigued by the idea of joining one or two of the online forums just to see what's being said in there.

The specialist mentions treatment options again, including medications, but Tony isn't interested and makes that clear, so the specialist moves on.

"We also have resources for your family and friends if they're interested."

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes people have a hard time explaining what they're thinking or feeling or going through.  That can lead to loved ones not understanding, and that in turn can lead to isolation or a feeling of isolation for you.  We have books and pamphlets with helpful information about TS and also about what some people with TS experience on a daily basis and go through.  One of our goals is to let people know that they're not alone.  That means helping you to help your loved ones understand what's going on."

He thinks about Pepper, and Rhodey and Happy.  He thinks about Peter too.  They're all pretty understanding.  They all accept him for who he is, tics and all.  Then his mind flits to the Avengers.  To Clint and Bruce specifically.  They'd wanted to be friends, and he hadn't been able to tell them about what he was going through… couldn't bring himself to.  He still hasn't talked to Bruce about it at all, and he hadn't told Nat and Clint everything… far from it.  He doesn't know if he would have handed them a book or a pamphlet then, but now… now that they know he has TS, he thinks he might.

"Can I have some of that stuff?"

"Of course."  The specialist starts pulling out pamphlets and tucking them into a plain manilla envelope for him.  "When you leave today, that doesn't mean that we have to be done here.  We're here any time that you have questions, need help, need to be connected to resources or are having difficulties, either with tics, or with family and friends.  You can come in during open hours, even without an appointment.  If you change your mind about treatment options or going to support groups that we run here, you can come back for that too.  You can ask for me directly or talk to any of the specialists here and we'll be happy to answer any of your questions."  He sets the manilla envelope full of information down for Tony.

Tony moves to stand up, envelope in hand.  He hesitates for a  moment before asking, "And what about the kids?"

"The kids?"

"Mr. Cartright wanted me to talk to some kids… to tell them I have- Tourette's."  He's never outright said it like that before.  He's never said it out loud, not even to Rhodey.

"That's between you and Mr. Cartright.  He hasn't said anything to me about it.  Even if he had, I'm here for you, not to organize some sort of gathering between you and other clients."

Tony thinks about it for just a moment, and then nods.  He holds up the packet of papers and says, "Thanks."

"We'll be here Mr. Stark.  My email and office number are in the packet."

Tony nods again and leaves.

There's a few teenagers sitting around a table playing board games in an open area he has to pass through.  None of them look up at him or pay him any attention, fully focused on what they're doing.  Two of them are silent and still, but one of them is jerking his foot in an irregular way.  He wonders if these are some of the kids Mr. Cartright wants him to talk to as he heads out to his car.

* * *

He thinks he should feel different now that he has an official diagnosis.  He doesn't.  He does feel weird that someone outside of his sphere knows… that two people know.  But Mr. Cartright and the specialist that had seen him work for a foundation focused on Tourette's.  It's not like they're going to tell anyone, or at least that's what Mr. Cartright had said.  Still, Tony is tempted to send over two NDAs and make them sign them.  Maybe he should have thought about that before he'd gone down there. Then again, he hadn't been expecting them to do a full intake.  Or maybe he had.  He doesn't really know.  It's done now, but he doesn't think it's made a difference.

He gets on to some of the Tourette's support forums online that were on the list, makes up a username that no one can trace back to him, and then spends hours scrolling through conversations that he doesn't plan to take part in.

He sees himself all over the screen.  The words aren't his, he hasn't typed them, but he's reading about himself.  There are adults talking about hiding their diagnosis from family and friends.  There are teenagers talking about how they hide their tics at school.  There are pages and pages of people talking about being bullied at school, at home and at work for their tics.

Tony doesn't see anyone offering up any solutions, but as he reads the desperate posts people make and hundreds of replies to each post, he thinks that maybe solutions aren't what people are looking for here.

'I hear you.  That happened to me too.'

'I had a teacher in the fifth grade that was really nice about it.  All the rest of them were assholes.'

'I'm right there with you.  Just push through it.  Just because they don't understand, it doesn't say anything about you.  Sometimes you just gotta let them stare and be an asshole.'

'Me too.'

'Same here.'

'I had that happen in school too.'

'Once I had a teacher that stood me up in front of the class and…'

The replies spread out and keep going, highlighting a hundred different experiences in a hundred different schools.  The post he's reading is only an hour old.  Tony wonders how many replies there will be by tomorrow morning.

He thinks about responding to the post himself… telling the original poster that he had a dozen different teachers in boarding school that were jerks about his behaviors… about being sent to the headmaster's office on an almost daily basis, about kids beating him up and his History teacher telling him he deserved it and that if he'd stop acting weird that he might make some friends.  He has almost as many stories about his negative experiences in school as there are replies to this post.  101.  102.  110.  120.  The replies keep coming in, but Tony stops scrolling and clicks onto another post, this one about a person's co-workers not understanding why the poster can't just 'stop and quiet down' so they can get some work done, even though it's been explained to them again and again.

It's after two in the morning when he decides to call it quits for the night and gets up off the couch in the penthouse with his tablet to head to bed.  Not all of the posts he read were bad.  There were a lot of positive experiences posted about as well.  People spoke about their loved ones being supportive, of teachers that took the time to understand them and educate their classmates about TS, about finally finding the right medication that helped the tics lessen in frequency, and dozens of posts of people talking about their success in life despite being told they'd never be successful because of TS.

People weren't looking for answers, they were looking for support.  He climbs into bed with Pepper, who is sleeping, and watches her for a few moments in the darkness, the only light coming in from the city through the large windows on one side of the room.

He hadn't expected to find himself written out so plainly like that in the words of others, but he had.  He doesn't know if he feels understood.  The specialist had talked about that, hadn't he?  Feeling understood?  Knowing that others have gone through some of the same things as him doesn't necessarily make him feel understood.  It's not that simple.  What it does do is make him feel like he's not alone.

He's not alone, but then again, he hasn't been alone in a long time.  He continues to look over the details of Pepper's soft face, even softer in sleep, and feels a warmth spread through his chest knowing that she's been there for him all this time.

"Am I running Howard Stark’s freak show?"

Freak, freak, freak.  Fun, not a freak.  Not a freak, neurodiverse.  Maybe dad never ran the freak show… he never cared to.  He just shipped me off for other people to deal with.  Rhodey and I ran the fun show, and now Pep and I run our own show.  He doesn't know what that show is called, but he doesn't feel like it's one you would see in a circus.  He just knows that he's glad he's not doing this alone.

* * *

The packet of informational papers and pamphlets the specialist had given Tony sits in his lab on a workbench surrounded by soldering irons, wires and other stuff.  He knows what every piece of paper in the packet says, and agrees with most of the information.  He hasn't let anyone else see the information though.  He's not sure that Pepper or Rhodey need to see it, or that Happy would want to see it.  He thinks Clint and Bruce might, and maybe Nat, who have all been holding back their questions because Tony had asked them to.

It's stupid, he thinks, that it should feel so hard to hand an informational pamphlet to someone.  He's fought aliens, nearly died on more than a dozen occasions, and has preformed amazing feats of engineering that no one else can come close to, but bringing up his Tourette's or tics in any form or fashion, even just by handing a piece of paper to someone is something that feels beyond him at the moment.  It's always felt too hard to do.

So he doesn't give the information to anyone.  He keeps it in his lab and tries not to think about it.  He tries and fails.

He fails because his tics are still a problem, even though the Avengers know now that they are tics and not just bad behavior.  Bruce, Nat and Clint have been good about it, but then again he hadn't told any of them, "I do what I want," and acted like an ass after breaking their stuff.

Sam is a different story.  He's positive that Sam still thinks he's an ass, and Tony really can't say that he blames him.  It's gotten to the point recently that if he knocks items off of tables around Clint or Bruce, that he doesn't worry about what they'll think anymore.  Bruce doesn't mention it at all and when it happens around Clint, he acts like it's nothing out of the ordinary.  He hasn't seen much of Nat lately, so he doesn't have to worry about her.

But now he's standing frozen to the spot, half a dozen items around his feet as Sam stares at him in the Avengers kitchen.  The two of them have been here before, though the last time it was two of Steve's broken mugs that Tony had broken and needed to clean up.  Now it's three cookbooks, a bottle of water, Tony's own cup of coffee (spilled because he hadn't yet attached the lid) and a plate of leftovers he'd been fixing himself.

There's nothing of Sam's or Steve's on the floor, and nothing is broken, or at least Tony doesn't think anything is, but he's still frozen to the spot, waiting for Sam to call him an ass again and stalk out of the room.

He doesn't.

"Lemme help you clean that up."

Tony takes a breath and looks up at him.  "What?"

"Hell of a mess.  I'll grab the broom, you get a mop."

Sam moves past him to get the broom out of the cupboard, and then sets to sweeping up leftover fried rice from the plate Tony had knocked down.

"Thought you only knock down single items," Sam says as he sweeps.  His tone is indecipherable, maybe just because Tony doesn't know him well.

Tony doesn't want to answer him so he grabs the mop from the corner where it usually resides on the other side of the pantry.  He picks up the three cookbooks and now empty metal mug and sets them on the counter, and then gets the mop wet in the sink and starts mopping up the sticky mess in the spots Sam has already swept.

"Not just single items then?" Sam asks after almost two minutes of silence.

Tony had told Nat and Clint about some of his tics, but all that is coming to mind right now is, 'I do what I want.'  He doesn't, not when it comes to his tics.  He can't think of anything else though.  "My brain does what it wants."  It's the best he can do at the moment.

Sam gives a nod and finishes sweeping up the grains of rice and a few remaining peas and carrots.

Tony puts the mop away, and when he turns around, he finds that Sam has a clean plate from the cupboard and has pulled the huge bowl of leftover fried rice out of the fridge again.  He's dishing it out onto the plate.  He catches Tony staring and says, "Figured you could use a new plate."

"That's for me?"

Sam shrugs, sticks the plate of rice in the microwave, and puts the bowl of rice away.  He doesn't say anything else to Tony after that.  He gets the bottle of orange juice out of the fridge that he came for and then leaves, disappearing back down the hallway to the private bedrooms.

Tony watches his back as he goes, and then turns to frown at the microwave, which is beeping to let him know that his food is done heating up.

He'd been all alone in the kitchen, intending to get some food and coffee and then head back to his lab when Sam had come in.  Then he'd grown anxious and started pleading to himself that his tics wouldn't come out.  That never works, and just like always when he starts thinking about his tics and hoping they don't come out, that's exactly what had happened.  He hadn't even thought about it, he'd just reached over with both arms and pulled everything he could reach right off the kitchen island and to his feet.

Tony lets out a long breath, runs his hand through his hair, and then pulls his food out of the microwave.  He doesn't take it back to the lab and decides to eat it there.  If Sam comes back out of his room Tony will probably pull more shit off the counter.  Then Sam might ask again what Tony's deal is.  Tony wishes he could tell him.

His mind flits back to the workbench in his lab and to the manilla envelope full of informational pamphlets.  There's one in there specifically about how thinking about tics, trying to hold tics in, being around people who are ticking, and being stressed out can cause one's own tics to worsen.  The pamphlet is only one page, folded into thirds and printed on both sides.  It's not a lot of information, just a few facts and a personal story from a ten year old that has Tourette's about not being able to stop ticking when she gets home from school because she was trying to hide all her tics at school all day long and stop herself from ticking.

Tony can't tell Sam… doesn't want to, but maybe handing him a pamphlet won't be as bad as he's been thinking it would be.

Later that afternoon, Sam comes out of his room to grab a beer from the fridge.  He plans on going straight back to his room so he can finish watching the football game that's on.  He grabs his beer and turns around, intending to head back, but he spies a white envelope with his name on the kitchen island.  Curious, he picks it up and tears it open.  There's a pamphlet of some sort inside.  At the top it says 'Four Things You Might Not Know About Tourette Syndrome'.

He sets his beer down and leans back against the counter, football game forgotten for a few minutes as he reads.  He knows Steve went to the library and checked out several books about Tourette's, and that Clint and Nat had brought back some information directly from Tony for the team.  He thinks this might be from Tony though.  That suspicion is confirmed when he finds a single notation in black pen next to a few lines of text near the end of the pamphlet.

'For a person that has TS, even thinking about ticking, or hoping that their tics won't come out because they're in a public place, taking a test, or in a social situation where their tics won't be found acceptable by others, is enough to cause their tics to start coming out.'  Right next to that is a scribble in black ink: 'My brain does what it wants.'

What had Sam said to Tony a few hours earlier?  "Thought you only knock down single items."  Tony had responded with, "My brain does what it wants."  Almost two months ago, after Tony had broken two of Steve's mugs in front of Sam and Sam had called him an ass, Tony had said, "I do what I want."

Sam rubs his fingers over the glossy paper of the pamphlet.  He stares down at Tony's messy black scrawl, and then flips the pamphlet over to the front and starts reading it over again.  Clint had said that Tony knocks over single items if they're sitting by themself on a flat surface, and had then explained to them that he was going to put multiple items on the surfaces around the common living area and kitchen so it wouldn't be a problem for Tony anymore.  Today Tony had swept several items down, including his own lunch and coffee.  Sam thinks about the information right next to where Tony wrote his note.  "...in a social situation where their tics won't be found acceptable by others."

Tony probably would have been fine if Sam hadn't walked into the room.  Sam had made it clear to everyone, including Tony that he didn't like him and his tics.  Even though that was before he'd known about the Tourette's, Sam feels like he's the ass, not Tony.

Sam reads the pamphlet a third time, and then sticks it back in the envelope.  He finds a blue pen in a kitchen drawer, crosses out his name and writes 'Steve' just above it.

The next day when Sam goes to the kitchen to get breakfast, the envelope is still sitting on the counter with the pamphlet in it. Steve's name is crossed out in red ink and above that in red is written 'Bruce'.  Bruce's name is crossed out in black ink and above that in black is written, 'Clint'.

Sam nods to himself, satisfied.  The information is making the rounds like it should.  Nat is next, and then they'll all know what Tony had wanted them to.  Tony knocks single items off of flat surfaces, but sometimes his brain has other plans and he can't help it.  Sometimes, despite their best efforts to put things on counters and tables in multiples, those items are still going to end up on the floor.  Sam had been sure to write that in the pamphlet next to Tony's note in blue ink.

He hadn't understood Tony before… hadn't believed him when he'd said it was an accident.  He'd jumped to conclusions and then stuck by them, despite that the others had tried to tell him that what he was describing didn't sound like Tony.  The least he can do is make sure that the team understands him now.  That's the least he can do, but Sam plans on finding a way to do even more.

* * *

Tony slams his cell phone down on the kitchen counter and stalks away from it.  Ross is an ass and Tony wishes there were a way to get out from under his thumb.  Ross is always jerking them around like they're puppets and he's their master, pulling the strings in just the wrong way that he knows will send Tony over the edge.

"Still no dice huh?" Clint asks.  "Maybe Fury can help."

Tony huffs, hands on his hips and back to Clint as he stares out the wall of windows in the penthouse.  "He mentioned Fury.  I think Fury's been trying to get everyone off of restriction.  As a result, Ross has kindly reminded the Accords Committee how dangerous we can all be, and they've decided that you should all be on probation for an extra two months."

Clint makes a face and notes that Tony still has his back to him.  His fists are clenched at his sides.

"Wait," Clint says.  "You said how dangerous we can all be."

"That's what I said."

"What does that mean?  Is he including you in that?"

"I'm an Avenger aren't I?"  But there's something off in Tony's voice that Clint picks up on.  It's the way he asks it… the way his voice goes up ever so slightly at the end.  He sounds like he's not sure of the answer to his own question.

"Of course you are."

"There you go then."  Tony's voice is tight… strained.  His fists are still clenched at his sides.  Clint has seen the man angry a few times, but it's been a while, and he seems angrier right now than he's ever been in Clint's remembrance.

Clint walks over to him and stands beside him.  "You're really mad huh."

"Aren't you?"

"Sure."  Silence settles over them for a moment.  Then Clint reaches into his pocket and pulls out an ink pen.  "Are you mad enough to throw something?"

Tony frowns, looks at Clint, and then his eyes travel down to the pen in Clint's hand that he's being offered.

"I don't like to be handed things," he reminds him, looking back up at Clint.

"I know."  Clint tries to keep his tone light.

"You're trying to hand me a pen."

"I'm asking if you want to throw something because you're pissed."  He shrugs.  He's not sure if this is ok or not or if he's just being cruel.  Being cruel… hurting Tony again… that's the last thing he wants to do.

Tony stares at the pen in Clint's hands for long moments.  He can decide not to take it.  He can tell Clint to stuff it.

He takes the pen and throws it to the floor right away.

"Feel better?" Clint asks.

"No, hand me something else."

Clint's not sure if he's joking or not.  Tony looks up and catches the conflicted look on his face and then startles Clint with laughter.  "Relax Katniss, I am mad, you're right.  And I was joking, just like you were."

Clint licks his lips.  He's still not sure if this is ok… if it's ok to joke about it or if Tony will only think he's making fun of him.  But then Tony holds out his hand and makes a 'gimme' motion with his fingers.  "Come on, what else you got?"

Clint digs around in his jeans pocket, and then in the big front pocket of his hoodie, he comes out with a Hershey's Kiss and a paperclip.  He hands the little wrapped chocolate to Tony, who tosses it to the ground.  "Chocolate?  Chocolate doesn't belong on the ground Clint, it belongs in my stomach," Tony says, bending down to pick up the candy and the pen.  "Set candy on the table so I can just pick it up and eat it.  The pen was ok though."

"You're ok with this?" Clint asks.

"What, joking around?  Here in my own home?  Yeah, I'm good with it."  He unwraps the chocolate and pops it in his mouth.  "This is mine now.  You good with that?"

Clint points at him.  "That's theft.  I'm telling Fury that you're stealing things from me."

"Perfect," Tony says.  "I dare you to write a report to him about the theft of your half melted piece of chocolate.  Better yet, I'll write it and sign your name to it and send it off to him."

"You would."

Tony still looks upset about the call with Ross, but he doesn't look as tense as he was as he crosses into the penthouse kitchen.  He pulls open a drawer and finds an entire unwrapped chocolate bar, which he tosses to Clint.  Clint unwraps it and takes a bite.  "There," Tony says, "my debt is repaid in full, with interest.  And just so you know, I'd make an amazing thief.  Spidey and I have stopped enough bank robberies now that I know everything that a bank robber should not do."

"That's because you're dangerous like the rest of us," Clint jokes, and Tony rolls his eyes.

* * *

Now that Clint has permission to joke around with Tony about his tics, he's doing it a lot.  He jokes about it with Tony in the lab when it's just him and Tony, and at lunch when it's him, Tony and Bruce, and also when Clint and Tony are alone in the elevator riding up through the tower after a late night trip out to grab donuts and coffee.

It's in the elevator that Nat first catches them joking and playing around about tics.  She's so mad that Clint and Tony both freeze as if they're both in trouble.

"Are you kidding me right now Clint?"

"What?"  Clint swallows hard, shakes his head 'no' and takes a subconscious step back until he meets the metal elevator wall.  He realizes that Tony is right there with him, pressed back against the wall in the face of Nat's anger.  Her face is red and she looks like she wants to throttle Clint.

"After everything that's happened you're just going to stand here and tease him about it where he can't even get away from you for the next forty five floors?!"

"Tasha-" Clint tries, but she takes a quick step towards him, in full assassin mode despite the fact that she's wearing pajama bottoms and her soft, worn hoodie.  Clint is positive that she's got a knife (or several) hidden on her body somewhere.  She always does.

"No, you listen to me," she grounds out, finger up against his chest.  She's not pressing hard, but she doesn't have to to keep Clint in place as the elevator continues to ride up through the tower.  She'd stepped inside on the twenty-third floor just in time to hear Clint asking Tony if he'd like him to hand him random items so he could get in some target practice for the next time he encounters Ross.  "Knock it off, or you're going to find out what it's like to be on my shit list."

Clint holds up both hands, like he's surrendering.

"Natasha," Tony says.

She glares at Clint so hard that Clint wonders if she's coming up with creative ways to kill him in her mind.  He thinks she might be.

"Hey, it's ok," Tony says.  This finally draws Nat's attention.

"It's not ok," she says, voice calmer.  She shoots Clint another glare, but finally steps back.

"Uh… ok, I see where you're going with this," Tony says.  He's still pressed back against the back wall of the elevator next to Clint.  "Normally it wouldn't be, but he wasn't making fun of me, we were joking around.  Together," he tacks on at the end, just to clarify.

She frowns a little, scrutinizes Tony's expression, looks at Clint, back at Tony, and then again at Clint, who is still holding his hands up.

"Together," she deadpans.

"Together," Tony says.  "That's what friends do.  Here," he adds on again.  "Not out there, but here it's ok when we're alone."

"Clint didn't feed you some line of BS just so he could make fun of you did he?" She's glaring at Clint again.

"Tasha," Clint groans, finally letting his hands fall and letting the back of his head bump gently against the wall.

"We're good, I promise," Tony reassures her.  It takes a few more moments, but Nat's posture finally starts to relax.

"Ok then.  But if he's being an ass, tell me."

"Got it," Tony says.  "I have an assassin on my side and anyone that picks on me will end up six feet under."

She gives a small nod.  It's so subtle it's hard to see, but it's there and Tony catches it.  He laughs and doesn't stop for long moments.

"You almost gave me a heart attack Tasha," Clint mumbles.  "That was terrifying.  I'm going to have nightmares for weeks."

"Double check that your bedroom door is locked tonight," Tony advises, still laughing hard.  He reaches up to wipe his eyes.

Clint mumbles again about Nat being scary and then says, "Where did you even come from?  What was on the twenty-third floor?"  He looks at his watch and says, "It's two thirty in the morning."

"What were you doing out at two thirty in the morning?" she challenges, though her tone is light and says that she somehow knows exactly what the two of them were out doing.

"Getting snacks," Clint says.

She shrugs.  "Me too."

"One of the cafeterias is on that floor," Tony offers up.  He narrows his eyes at her.  "Did you leave any money in the till for what you took?"

"You can afford what I took."

"I can, but that cafeteria is full of restaurants that I don't own."

"I was in the fridge at the pizza place.  They make lava cakes.  I took a couple."

"Ok, I'll make sure they're reimbursed."  Tony eyes her and says, "You know, I can just give you a card to swipe down there whenever you want.  I'll just keep it topped up with funds."

"That's not necessary," she says.

Tony doesn't argue, but Clint knows that sometime in the next few days Nat will find herself in possession of a cafeteria card full of money.  Tony is just like that.  Clint knows that he likes to take care of the people he cares about, even when he has no reason to.  Even after they fought in Germany.

* * *

After the last Avengers charity gala, Tony really isn't thrilled about the prospect of attending another one.  He's been more involved in the planning of this one, not willing to make the same mistake again of just leaving it up to Steve and the PR team.

This time they're raising money for a local children's hospital that has been low on funds, and it's less of a gala and more of a luncheon.  The guest list is much smaller, there will be no children in attendance and no press.  The cost is thirty thousand dollars to get in and get served an exquisite meal (worth about ten thousand dollars a plate).  With forty guests that RSVP'd and bought tickets, they're going to rake in quite a bit for the children's hospital, with the potential to get more donations once people are in the door.

Tony has double checked that they're not raising money for the same charity as last time.  He never wants to be blindsighted like that again.  He's willing to raise more money for the research of neurological disorders, or for kids with Tourette's or other neurological issues.  He doesn't mind that at all, he just doesn't want to go to another public event without realizing what he's walking into ever again.

This event, like almost all others that SI puts on, is a finely tuned operation that even Pepper has put her stamp of approval on.  That means that Tony can attend without worrying too much.

Except that he is worried.  Steve hadn't understood his need to make a quick exit the last time, and even though he hadn't meant to, Bruce had inadvertently kept him there in front of all those people and cameras when he was about to start ticking out of control.  He doesn't want that to happen again.

But things are different this time.  Very different.  Tony can say it's different because Pepper has looked over all the plans, or because the event is smaller and there are no cameras.  The reality is that it's different because the team is different.  They're all in attendance, just like last time.  The event is titled 'Lunch With The Avengers For A Good Cause' so they all have to be there.

People are seated by waiters dressed in expensive uniforms as they enter.  Wine and food are served just after the guests have had enough time to make small talk with the Avengers spread out around the long table in the largest conference room at SI.  Tony enjoys his meal and does the same dance he's done with people at dozens of other charity functions.  He doesn't really want to be here talking to people he doesn't know, but he's good at pretending and at making people believe he's very interested in what they have to say.

When everyone finishes with lunch, dessert is served and then there's half an hour afterwards for guests to stand up and stretch their legs and talk to Avengers that had been seated far away from them while they were eating.

Tony prepares himself to talk to more people.  Putting on a show like this is exhausting and he can't wait to go back up to the penthouse or his lab and just relax.  He spots Bruce across the room, his entire expression and posture worn, like he's just as tired as Tony is.

"Ah, Mr. Stark," comes an unfamiliar voice.  Tony takes a steadying breath and then turns to find a richly dressed man, smile planted firmly in place.  The guy holds out his hand despite that Tony's hands are in his pockets, and have been there or otherwise out of sight this entire time.  He's about to explain that he doesn't like shaking hands, like he has a dozen times already today, when Steve steps in between the two of them.  Tony startles and takes a quick step back.  He doesn't like to be in such close proximity to Steve and hadn't noticed him coming up beside him.

"He doesn't like to shake hands," Steve says, and Tony's attention is drawn away from his racing heart and to Steve and the gentleman in front of him.

"Ex- excuse me?" the man asks, confused.

"He doesn't like to shake hands, but I do.  Why don't we shake, and then you can talk to Tony."  Steve holds out his hand to shake.  It's awkward, but the man doesn't know what to do so he does what Steve suggested.

"There, you can say you shook the hand of Captain America," Steve says.  Tony can see just enough of his face to see that Steve's smile is strained.  He can hear it in his voice too.

Steve steps out of the way and takes a few steps back.  He's drawn into a conversation by an elderly woman that's a frequent flier at Stark charity galas, but Tony notes for the rest of the event that Steve hovers nearby, never moving more than eight or nine feet away.

"Is it just me, or was that weird?" the man asks Tony, leaning in and whispering in a conspiratorial way.

"Definitely," Tony says.  Then he shrugs and plays it off like it's nothing.  He's good at that too.  He's good at pretending that everything is just fine and dandy.

"Do you know what that was about?"

"Guess Cap just really wanted to shake your hand," Tony says.  He only half pays attention to the conversation he's drawn into after that, and barely pays attention to anything that anyone else says to him for the last half hour of the event.

He's surprised because Steve has never stuck up for him before, not once.  He's never looked out for him in this way before.  Steve looks out for everyone's physical safety when they're out on missions… makes sure everyone is doing their assigned task and that everyone is accounted for at the end of a mission.  He's always looked out for Tony in that way like he's done for every other member of the team.  This is different though.  He's never done anything like this for Tony before.

He'd stepped right in between Tony and the guy like he was a bodyguard… like he was protecting Tony from something dangerous.  "He doesn't like to shake hands, but I do."  Steve hadn't said it like he was disgusted with Tony, or disappointed in him, he'd said it like it was a fact and that he wasn't going to let the guy get close enough to Tony to shake his hand in the first place.

The guy had been right.  It was weird.  It was weird, and it bothers Tony, because that's just not how his and Steve's relationship works.  Steve and Tony work together, and nothing more.  They can't be friends, because they always screw it up.  Steve doesn't stick up for Tony because he doesn't like Tony, and that's just the way it's always been.

It's weird, and even after the event is over and the team has all gone their separate ways for the rest of the day, Tony can't stop thinking about it.

* * *

Bruce and Clint he gets.  Nat too.  Even Sam has been kinder to him lately.  He's helped Tony clean up a few things he's swept off of counters or tables and to the floor.  Tony thinks with Sam it's because he left him the pamphlet and that Sam might not think Tony is such an ass anymore.

Tony understands why all of them seem to be more relaxed around him now… like they've all just come to some sort of unspoken agreement with each other.  He gets it.

He doesn't get Steve though.  He and Steve are not good.  They haven't come to an unspoken agreement at all.  Tony had tried hard to put Germany and Siberia behind him… had tried hard before the first gala to have meals with Steve and be part of the team again.

Then the first gala had happened and Steve hadn't listened to him or believed him that he needed to leave.  And then Tony had tried to apologize to him the next day and been shot down.  Following that, Tony had started to be excluded from team activities and gatherings, and then after Pepper had told the team about his Tourette's, Steve had said, "You should have told us."

Tony hasn't seen much of him since then.  He's seen Steve in passing just a handful of times aside from the one team meeting to hammer out details of the luncheon fundraiser and then at the fundraiser itself.  So he doesn't understand why Steve is acting like they're good… why he's acting like he's ok with Tony all of a sudden when he never really has been before.  Even in the early days of the team on the helicarrier, trying to figure out what Loki was really up to with the Tesseract, Steve had called Tony out and told him exactly what he thought of him.  "Big man in a suit of armor.  Take that off, what are you?"  Steve standing up for him doesn't make any sense at all, and Tony has a burning need to know why.

He finds Steve sitting alone at the kitchen island on the Avengers level reading a book and drinking a cup of coffee.  It reminds Tony of the first time he'd encountered Cap right after the Rogues had come back months before.  That had been a tense moment, fraught with the danger of Tony starting up another civil war by pushing Steve's cup of coffee to the ground.  He doesn't think he can start a civil war between them that way anymore, but the situation still feels tense.

"Tony," Steve says when he sees him.  Steve sounds wary, but he keeps his voice quiet… his posture non-threatening.  This too reminds Tony of that first meeting months before.

"Steve."

It's late and just the two of them.  Tony wonders how often Steve is up late like this, sitting and enjoying the solitude of the empty common area.

Tony walks up to him and stops a few feet short, far enough back to be out of arm's reach.  He still has the watch that holds his nanotech suit.  He always has it with him now with Steve living in the tower.  He rubs his left wrist nervously, but glances at his right wrist where the watch is just to remind himself that it's there.

"Why did you do that at the luncheon today?"

"Do what?"  Steve asks, but Tony can tell by the almost guilty look on his face that he knows what Tony is asking about.

"Don't play with me."  His voice is hard.  He came for an answer and he'd like one as quickly as possible so he can leave.  He wants to go up to the penthouse and climb into bed next to Pepper.  He's hoping he won't get up there and be so stressed out that he starts dumping things off the top of their dresser and nightstands.  He loves going home to her, but hates going home to her worked up like that.

"You don't like to shake hands," Steve says.  "I didn't listen to you when you said it before."

"But you're listening now," Tony says.  He's angry and he doesn't even know why.

Steve nods, wary eyes taking in Tony's posture.  Despite that Tony's shoulders are tense, and that it's clear that he's angry or upset, Steve doesn't stand up from his seat at the kitchen island.

"You've never listened to me before.  Why now all of a sudden?"

"I didn't understand before.  You always said you didn't like to shake people's hands, but you never said why.  I thought it was just a preference."

"So what if it was?  Why don't my preferences matter?"

Steve is quiet for long moments, unsure of what to say when Tony is challenging him like this.  Tony points at him briefly before dropping his hand and says, "You don't care about anything I tell you, or my preferences.  So again, why now?"

Steve shakes his head.  He doesn't have an answer.

"So what did you think when I said I had to leave the gala?  Was that just a preference that could be ignored too?"

Steve shakes his head again and Tony's anger starts to boil over.  He wonders how far he can push before Steve leaps up off that stool and Tony has to push the button on his watch to get his nano suit to come out.

"Answer me dammit!"

Steve still doesn't stand up, but he finally answers, voice tinged with anger.  "I thought you were being spoiled and that the party wasn't to your liking."

That tracks with the things Steve has said to him before, Tony thinks.  That makes sense.  This new thing Steve did at the luncheon today doesn't.

"Ok."  Tony takes a breath and calms down a little.  "That's what you always think about me.  Why was today different?"

"Because I know now that you don't shake hands for a reason."

"I always had a reason."

"I know."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"And what about my reason for wanting us all to sign the Accords?"

Tony's question hangs there between them.  Steve doesn't answer, and Tony doesn't think he's going to.  Tony had explained all of his reasons for signing the Accords to Steve two years ago, and Steve still hadn't understood… or maybe he hadn't wanted to.  Again, Tony has no idea why Steve is all of a sudden being so understanding now about his Tourette's and his tics when he hasn't cared to understand anything about Tony before.

When the Rogues had first returned, and Tony had first spoken to Steve, he'd told Steve that the thing that had happened between them was over and done with… that he cared about what happened but that they couldn't afford to start up that fight again or they might level Manhattan.  He'd told Nat and Steve over breakfast one morning that he wasn't still angry about Germany and that there was no need to talk about it.  That he'd moved past it.

It was a lie.  He hasn't moved past it, or at least not past Siberia, and he can't.  His chest still aches if he thinks about it for more than a few moments.  He'd made it sound like he was good and had made peace with it all, but he hasn't.  Not by a long shot.

"You crushed my sternum."

Steve blinks once, twice, and then he just stares at him, stock still, like he's frozen in time.  Or in ice.  In ice like Steve had once been.  Frozen like he left Tony to be in that cave.

"You broke my sternum," Tony says again, looking for any reaction at all… remorse, guilt, anything.  There's nothing.  Steve doesn't move, or can't, Tony's not sure.  "You crushed my arc reactor and then left me there to freeze to death in the ice.  I was stuck in my suit and couldn't get out, and my sternum was crushed and I could barely breathe.  I was gonna die there, and you were going to let me."  Tony was lucky that the Black Panther had come looking for him and got him out of the suit, but it was over an hour lying there in the cold and in pain before he was found.  He knows he's lucky to be alive, but even luckier that Steve left him alive at all.  He'd raised his shield up over his head for one final blow, murder in his eyes, and in that moment Tony knew, he knew, that Steve was going to kill him.  Sometimes he wonders if Steve did actually kill him and he's just a ghost… if his spirit just refused to die and move on because life isn't fucking fair.

"So no, I'm not fucking ok with what happened in Siberia.  You didn't care if I lived or died and you didn't care that my parents were murdered, and I can't understand why now you seem to care all of a sudden if I can't shake hands with someone at a charity event."  Tony pulls in a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and then lets it out.  "You and I are not good, not by a long shot, but I'm trying to make this work.  That's all I've ever tried to do is make this work."  He's wanted to be part of the team since the beginning… since he told Fury that he didn't want to be part of his 'super secret boy band'.  He wanted it even after Fury told him he'd been turned down as part of the Avenger's Initiative.  He'd wanted it as soon as he stepped onto the helicarrier and met Bruce, and Steve, and Nat, and later on Clint.

He's always wanted to be a part of this team.  He thinks that Steve has never wanted him to be a part of it.

Tony turns and walks away, making quick strides to the elevator.  He wants this so bad, but he can't have it.  Maybe he's just as spoiled as Steve and the media have always accused him of being.

"It's all I want too," Steve says, voice quiet, and Tony pauses.  For some reason all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end, but not because he's freaked out.  He is surprised though.  He doesn't turn around, and Steve doesn't move closer.  "I want to make this work too.  The team," Steve clarifies.

Tony is silent for long moments before he asks, "Even with me on it?"  Tony hates how his voice sounds tight… higher than normal.  He can't help it, his throat is tight and it feels like he can't swallow.  He's been sounding off quite a bit lately, unable to keep his voice in check when he's normally so good at pretending everything is great.

"All of us."  Steve pauses for a breath and finishes, "You included."

Tony does turn, just a little so that he can glance back at Steve.  The man looks undone.  He's playing with his fingers and his stance looks all wrong now that he has finally stood up.  His weight is on one foot and his posture is slumped, like he's nervous… like this is hard for him too.

"I'm sorry about what I did in the cave.  I'm sorry that I hurt you."

Tony knows the appropriate thing to say is, 'I forgive you,' but he can't dredge the words up… can't pull them up out of his chest and into his mouth.  He doesn't forgive Steve… not yet.  Maybe not ever.  He doesn't know.  He doesn't know what else to say, so he gives a small nod just so that Steve knows that Tony heard him.  Then Tony turns and steps into the elevator.  Steve still looks uncertain as the elevator doors close and hide his face and anxious posture from Tony's view.

As the elevator starts to rise upward, Tony crosses his arms and leans back against the cool metal wall.  This isn't perfect, he thinks, but it's a start.  A start to being a team maybe… not again, but for the first time.  He doesn't think he could have made it work with the team before… doesn't think he could have been a part of that team.  But now he has a chance.

For the first time the team knows about his tics, and like Peter, and Pepper, and Rhodey… like Happy, they don't seem to mind.  He can joke about it with Clint just like he can with Rhodey, and feel like it's normal, and not something to be ashamed of.  Bruce ignores his tics like Peter, and accepts that it's just a part of who he is.  Nat is bent on making sure people treat him right, just like Pepper, and like Happy, Sam doesn't seem to mind helping Tony sweep up broken ceramic or clean up other messes he creates.

He's not sure where Steve fits into all of that, but Steve's words still ring through his ears as the elevator comes to a stop and he makes no move to exit out into the penthouse.

"I want to make this work too.  The team."

"Even with me on it?"

"All of us.  You included."

You included.  You included.  All of us.  You included.

Those are nice words to have playing on repeat in his mind instead of what's usually there.

I'm fun, not a freak.  Neurodiverse.  Included, included, included.

Yeah… nothing's perfect right now, but he can work with that.

Author's Note:

🔵 Hey, we made it to the end!  I tried hard to show the change in Tony's attitude towards himself, but also how others treat him as the story progressed. As his opinion of himself got better, he felt less of a need to just accept other people's actions towards him.  At the start, years before, Rhodey had told Tony's secret to Happy and Pepper and never apologized and Tony had accepted it.  Bruce apologized for not being there for Tony in Germany and Tony didn't want him to feel bad and told him it was no big deal and that they were 'good', giving Bruce an out.  Steve and Nat asked about Germany and Tony said he was over it.  Then he starts to change.  He realizes he's not as alone as he thought and that he does have people to fall back on, where before he thought he was alone and should just be nice and take what he could get from others.  Pepper tells his secret to the others and apologizes and Tony doesn't say that it's ok or that he forgives her just so that she won't feel bad.  Then he tells Steve outright: "I'm not ok," and, "You and I are not good, not by a longshot."  I really don't think Tony could have moved past what happened in Siberia until he and Steve had that hard conversation and Tony told him the truth.

🔵 I had a few goals with this fic: Show how Tony feels, be respectful of the subject matter, try to be accurate, and explore the many complicated facets of the situation.  I hope I did well with all of those.

🔵 About Clint joking around with Tony about his tics: when Tony allows it, Clint understands it's ok to laugh and joke around with him about it.  It's like Tony gave him permission to play.  To me it's interesting because it was Rhodey that gave Tony the impression that it's ok to play around with it.  Rhodey made Tony feel like it was normal and not something to be ashamed of.  Clint reinforced that.

🟠 What happens after this story ends:

🟠 In my mind the team continues working on repairing what was broken.  Tony finds he has a fierce protector and friend in Clint, who moves Tony firmly from the 'friend' category in his mind to 'family I will burn the world down for' category.  Tony and Peter get closer with more Iron Dad vibes.

🟠 Steve and Tony are not good, and Steve knew that in the back of his mind before, but knows it firmly now.  Now for the first time Steve makes a real effort (since the first time he met Tony) to make him feel as though he is genuinely welcome and wanted as part of the team.  It's like a fresh start, and the entire team feels it, like they're all starting from scratch.  In my mind Tony and Steve would not be 'good' for a long time after this, but years later, after a lot of hard work, maybe they could be.

🟠 Does Tony ever go talk to the kids at the foundation?  I think at the point where this story ends, he's still not ready to do that, but he's changing, and his perception of his tics and TS, and of himself and his support system are changing.  In the future I think he could be ready to talk to kids about his experiences with TS.  He really firmly still has his identity tied up in 'I am Iron Man,' and Iron Man helps people.  That's the part of himself he feels good about.  With a full support system around him now, from those that have always been on his side, to now the Avengers, and the people at the Tourette's foundation, I think he can learn to be comfortable with the part of himself that he's always hidden from the world.  When he does, I can see him having the attitude of and saying to the world, "This is me.  I'm Iron Man, and I have Tourette's and I'm still awesome."  (Just like he's still Peter's favorite Avenger).  After that, then he can talk to the kids at the foundation, but not really before.  He has to be comfortable with himself, before he can help others feel comfortable with themselves.

🔵 One last note about TS, OCD and Tourettic OCD: As I mentioned before, so much of the symptoms of Tourette's and OCD overlap and are often not distinguishable. Many scientific studies then set out to separate the two into distinct categories so they can know for sure what exactly is just TS and what exactly is just OCD.  Based on those studies clinicians often push to diagnose just OCD and treat that, or just TS and treat that (which can leave many symptoms untreated).  Others will diagnose TS and OCD together, even though the symptoms seem like a combination of the two.  There is a third group of researchers trying to show that OCD and TS are the same disorder, but a spectrum of the same disorder, and yet others trying to show that TS and OCD are slightly different but that there is a third disorder that combines aspects of both (and all of this is way more complicated that I explained here, I was just trying to give the basic rundown).

🔵 So, does Tony have TS, TS and OCD, Tourettic OCD, or is it all a spectrum of one disorder that science is still trying to prove? ← That's rhetorical by the way.  It would depend on who he went to for a diagnosis. He could go to a bunch of different doctors and get diagnosed with any or all of the above at different places (except perhaps Tourettic OCD, which is not yet in the DSM).

🔵 It's been found that up to 60% of people with TS have OCD symptoms and up to 50% of children with OCD have tics.