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Chapter Text

He was four when he was able to bring voice to his mother’s emotions as she tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead. “You love me, mama,” he had said, reaching up to touch her cheek. “I’m your bambino.” 

She’d just smiled and whispered her agreement before brushing her hand over his eyes and telling him to sleep. Later, when he was old enough to understand, he’d realize the sudden fear he’d felt at her action, so gentle and loving, had been hers. 

Fear of how he’d known what she was thinking. 

Fear of him. 

He was four and a half- an important distinction in his mind from four - when he’d ran to Jarvis in tears because of Howard’s anger. He’d thrown himself into Jarvis’s arms, concern and love and fierce protection mixing with his own hurt and his father’s fury. 

It was that day, between harsh whispers and fierce denials and timid words, that the truth had been uncovered: Tony was a touch telepath. 

It becomes his greatest secret. 

What was once a childhood in the spotlight becomes one in the shadows. He grows up keeping to himself, a habit he comes to perfect as he enters MIT. 

Make a show, let yourself be seen, but never let people close. 

But then he meets Rhodey. 

Rhodey is safe. 

Tony has felt safe before - in his mother’s arms, when he was with Jarvis and Ana. Whenever Aunt Peggy came for a visit. To a somewhat lesser extent, with Obie, whenever he came over when Tony was growing up. But Rhodey…

Rhodey is safe. He is the first person Tony chooses to tell; for a long time, he is the only person Tony tells. 

Then there’s Sunset, who uses him for technological advancements for her own gain. And Tiberius, who used their relationship against him, getting the media to see him as a playboy alcoholic and nothing else. 

It’s not the first time Tony hears someone’s thoughts while they were hurting him— every kidnapping inevitably led him to know exactly what his captors had planned for him when they took to roughing him up— but Tiberius’s fist to his jaw is the first time he’s realized someone’s true intentions while they were betraying him. 

He learns the pain of remembering is worse when the ghost of their touch to his skin brings back the force of their cruel intent.

Sex is…well. It’s easier to just have one-night stands, where people care more about how good he is in bed, than about him himself. It hurts less, in the long run. 

Or so he tells himself. 

At least it prevents him from getting betrayed again. 

For a long time, that’s how he exists. 

And then comes Pepper. 

Pepper, he slowly comes to realize, is safe. So is Happy. 

He settles into a routine. He thinks maybe, for the first time, he’s okay. 

Then he wakes up in a cave with a car battery keeping him alive. 

Afghanistan is… It’s..

The thoughts of the men who hold him captive, who hold his head underwater… 

It’s better unsaid. 

The phantom touch of Yinsen’s hand in his will haunt him every time he allows himself to shake someone’s hand for the rest of his life. Even in Afghanistan, after everything Yinsen knew he was responsible for, there had been a physician’s care in Yinsen’s heart for him when they’d shook hands.

It had been genuine care three months later when Tony had held his hand as he died, Yinsen’s relief at finally getting to see his family just tampered with the pride he’d felt for Tony’s rebellion and the man he’d gotten to know over the last three months. 

The only person I love still alive to mourn my death, Yinsen had thought, just before the memory of his wife and children had brought peace to him as he finally took his last breath. 

Yinsen’s care, his pride, his love, and his death, only proved that Tony hadn’t deserved any of it. Hadn’t deserved Yinsen saving him, and still doesn’t, won’t, even if spends the rest of his life trying to make up for the death and destruction he caused. 

Merchant of Death, after all. 

Tony doesn’t feel anything at all after that, not in his suit, not until Rhodey is kneeling in front of him in the sand. He slumps into Rhodey’s arms, safe , for the first time in three months. 

Rhodey is the only one he allows to treat him on the plane ride home. 

He doesn’t accept Pepper’s hug or Happy’s handshake. He refuses the hospital. He keeps his arms wrapped around his chest. 

It’s the only thing keeping him together. 

It’s also the only thing he can handle. 

Obie touches him exactly twice when he takes the reactor from his chest. Once, on the back of his neck, as he guides his head to the backrest of the sofa. It’s a painfully gentle gesture; the final bow. 

The second is an iron-clad grip to his chin that forces him to meet his eyes. 

He doesn’t need the contact to tell him what the look in Obie’s eyes mean, but he hears the truth anyway. 

Obie never cared about him at all. 

Chapter Text

He doesn’t get a chance to move away before Natasha touches his jaw, turning his head towards her as she studies the crossword puzzle on his neck. 

Somehow, he’s able to deflect without his voice breaking. Somehow, he gets away without flinching. The last time he was touched there— 

He shuts that line of thinking down. 

It’s not so easy brushing off the unexpected brush of concern, annoyance mixed with affection. Affection for him, concern for him. 

He moves away this time, refocusing on what Fury is saying. 

Somehow, he lives. 

The next six months reaffirms his eclectic nature as a recluse - which does nothing to override his reputation as a playboy, of course, because why would it? - with Tony steadfast refusing to take anything from anyone, or even shake hands with someone. Eccentric, People calls him. TMZ calls it PTSD and writes a kind five-hundred word piece on his trauma, in detail. 

Pepper threatens to sue TMZ, Rhodey goes viral for snapping at a reporter who harassed them to try and get a photo of Tony’s reactor, ripping his sleeve in the process, resulting in an actual lawsuit, and Tony retreats to his workshop where nothing but three select people can ever get in.  

Most people get the message, by then, and stop trying to reach out for him. As for the rest, his armor keeps him from ever having to lay a hand on anyone, or getting touched in return. 

Mercy of mercies, his armor even keeps him from touching anyone in Stuttgart, Germany, even when he, Thor - the literal god of thunder - and Captain America himself fight. 

And then Tony makes the mistake of tapping Thor’s arm as he makes a quip. 

He learns three things: 

1. Loki had been stolen from a realm called Jotunheim as a child, but he had not been told about it until a few months ago. What kind of parents do that, by the way, and claim to love their kid? 
2. Until now, Thor had thought Loki committed suicide. 
3. Thor loves his brother, but he is also willing to fight him to protect ‘Midgard.’ 

It took years of accidental contact for Tony to be able to learn people’s thoughts and not react. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t inhale, just pats Thor’s arm one final time and keeps walking. 

He doesn’t even break his stride. 

He’s not as successful, later, when he lays his hand on Rogers’s arm and feels his disgust. Disgust for him, just as his dear old dad had always said would be the case. 

He doesn’t recoil, doesn’t even hesitate to retort at Roger’s insult, but he thinks his eyes are probably as empty as he feels. 

Later, after learning about Bruce’s suicide attempts and learning about Hulk being an alter who protects the system in whatever way he has to, to keep them alive, Tony’s too emotionally wrung out to read much into Roger’s brief concern fear as anything but warranted given the explosion and the way the hellicarrier is going down as he reaches down to pull him to his feet. 

After Coulson’s death, there’s nothing but his rage.

It’s easy to toe the line with Loki, to step closer, to dare to press. He’s expecting it when Loki grabs his jaw and this time, there’s no flash of fear. There’s no phantom touch of Obie’s hand or his indifference to his life, there’s only terror. 

But it’s not his.

It’s Loki’s. 

They both know his repulsor will incapacitate Loki for a few minutes at most, but he fires anyway. Stays just a second longer than he should, watching Loki land and wondering about the color of his eyes, and then he joins the fight below. 

In the end, there is only one thing to do with the nuke that the government sends. 

Watching the nuke go off, knowing everyone below him on earth is safe, is all he needs. Tony closes his eyes, not expecting to open them again. Maybe now, he can be at peace. 

Tony wakes up to Rogers leaning over him, Thor behind him, both of them staring down at him as Rogers eyes water with dust and sweat and grime and obviously nothing else, because why would there be? Hulk is in the background, hovering just as much as he’s huffing angrily, but he’s also oddly focused on him. 

Tony’s not quite sure what to do with the concern in their eyes. 

It’s easier to ignore it than pretend it might be genuine. It can’t be genuine, because it never is when it comes to him. 

The Avengers are meant to protect Earth from threats the planet isn’t equipped to handle. Extraterrestrial, weapons of mass destruction, the like. Their existence is meant to be a deterrent; instead, they’re a test. 

Threats small and large emerge, all testing the waters to see what it will take for the Avengers to be called. 

To see if the Avengers are the protectors they claim to be, or a force of destruction. 

Tony’s not sure he knows the answer himself; he’s not sure any of the others know it either. 

Fury seems to think they are both in one. 

He might be the only one who thinks that’s a good thing. If Loki’s invasion proved anything, it demonstrated two things: 

1. They’re a volatile mess.  
2. They are capable of working to gether, under the right circumstances. 

Maybe it also proved a third thing: said ‘right’ circumstances are rare. Or maybe it really was just a one-off with Loki and they’re all deluding themselves, Tony can’t decide. 

Their first few battles post-Loki are a clusterfuck, and the less that is said about them, the better. They’re simultaneously respected as “heroes” for stopping mass casualty events, but also weapons of mass destruction themselves, causing hundreds of thousands in property damage, if they’re lucky, to millions, per call-out. Not exactly the recipe for being well-respected or even liked, not that Tony’s trying particularly hard in either case. 

Neither one has applied to him in- well, forever, so he’s not about to begin trying now when all he cares about is stopping whatever threat is out there and saving as many people as he can. 

The problem is this: they’re not a team. Forget colleagues or coworkers, they’re barely abrasive acquaintances forced to work side-by-side, no one quite trusting anyone else except Barton and Romanoff, outside of the few and far in between moments in the field where things almost make sense. Briefly. And rarely again. 

Tony is, as he’s always, the odd one out on the team. He takes Rogers’s orders well enough, if well enough means refuting him whenever JARVIS or him see a better play, and there’s the way Hulk seems to like him more than everyone else (combined), but there’s also this: 

Their first debrief in a battle post-Loki involves Rogers trying to hand him a report and Tony awkwardly yet forcefully asking him to set it on the table in front of him. Rogers frowns at him but does it, but then the next debrief Tony actually has to actually tell him to put it on the table in front of him instead of giving it to him because he doesn’t like to be handed things and, yeah. 

The less said about that the better as well. Because Romanoff gives him an odd look from across the table, Barton shooting her a look Tony can’t decipher, Tony refusing to look at any of them, and then the third debrief comes around with Barton held together by gauze and stitches, Romanoff wearing a brace on her wrist, and with Tony still bleeding sluggishly from his temple and with a couple dozen bruises to boot as Rogers tries again to give him the after incident report paperwork. 

“Just set it down, please,” Tony says, somewhat more biting than he means, but fuck, he’s tired and he’s in pain and and he also hasn’t been sleeping a whole lot since the whole aliens invasion thing, so he thinks he’s owed some slack. 

But it makes Romanoff and Barton look at him like he’s a puzzle to solve, Fury giving him a measured but equal look of psychoanalyzing from the front of the room, and Tony knows then that he really is lucky he’s gotten away without a whole conversation about his so-called ‘eccentricness’ or even a screaming match about his inability to be a team player. Something, at least. 

That’s usually how it goes, after all. 

But Rogers just grimaces at him and sets the paperwork down, and that’s that. 

Except it’s not, because Tony knows what they’re all thinking even without touching them because he’s thinking it too: 

Iron Man recommended, Tony Stark not recommended.

Chapter Text

The issue with being the outlier is this: eccentricness almost inevitably makes people curious, and curiosity means attention. Tony’s used to bring a spectacle, even if the limelight he grew up in was more of a well-oiled lantern that was occasionally held up in his face to show him off just enough to keep him relevant but not enough to make people look too closely at him, but that’s positive attention, as Tony likes to call it. The sort of media he engages in for SI, and has ever since he took over the company. It’s a game he’s perfected, easy and patented in its simplicity. 

Even if things have gotten more complicated with the introduction of the Avengers post Loki’s invasion. 

But then there’s the zero-minded focus the spies settle on him, as if they’ve decided something about their initial assessment is wrong and they’re just trying to figure out what exactly is wrong with him. 

And that? That’s dangerous. 

All it takes is one request too many to have something put down instead of handed to him, one whisper of something he shouldn’t know but somehow does, one blink at accidental contact for him to reveal the truth about himself and everything he’s ever had to bury to keep himself alive. It takes one mistake, one misstep, one coincidence, and it’s all over. 

That fear is almost enough to make Tony bite the bullet and let them hand things to him, read; almost, because the one time he does, he nearly has a panic attack right in front of Banner. 

He doesn’t, of course, but it’s a near thing. 

So Tony does the only other thing he can do to keep himself safe from wandering spy eyes: he retreats to the sanctity of his workshop. 

The thing about touch telepathy is this: technically, or at least as far as both Google and SHIELD databases are concerned, touch telepathy doesn’t exist anymore. Key word, anymore. 

It can’t, not when there hasn’t been a single record of a touch telepath existing in the last two-hundred-and-nineteen years. 

Not that Tony has been paying attention, or anything. 

Before there was a word for it, people called them “witches” or “psychics” or just plain, “monsters.”

By the time the terminology was created to name them as they are, their existence had become taboo. Undesirable, criminal, dangerous.  

Historians call them as they are: touch telepaths. 

People call them legends. 

Tony just curses his own existence and calls it a day. 

There are rumors, of course, of people who go out of their way to avoid touch, who will unknowingly flinch at the slightest contact. Tony’s had similar rumors made about him before, by people who will, in the same breath, call him a playboy who can’t keep his hands to himself. 

His reputation precedes him, even when the truth lies buried beneath the lie. It helps, at least, to dispel the chance that someone discovers the truth. 

It doesn’t make it any easier to live with, but. That’s just how it goes. 

It’s not even that all contact is bad, because it’s not. Most of it is, regardless of the person or the contact, simply because the onslaught of someone’s thoughts - plus the underlying current of their emotions - is a lot. 

And a lot is underselling it, really. 

Combine that mixture with the weight of someone’s intention to torture him? 

Or someone’s complete lack of care for his regard in their desire to use him for their own gain? 

Or someone’s— 

The list goes on. Tony’s not sure it has an end, actually. Certainly not one that he’s found. 

For as long as he can remember, Tony can recall the intention of those who’ve hurt him with just as much ease as the feeling of their skin against his. There is no forgetting, not when the ghost of their thoughts has left its impression on his skin. 

It’s its own sort of brand, an invisible scar left for only him to see. 

Avoiding contact is the easiest way he knows to avoid knowing how insignificant or hated he is viewed by the people around him. 

But there, as there always is, an exception to the rule. 

Well, technically, if you want to call it an exception, there’s two. 

Sex is its own thing. It has a tendency to go one of two ways: awful, with Tony feeling the same itch to scratch as the very same person who is using him to scratch said itch, or, or, if he’s lucky, it becomes a feedback loop of lust, pleasure, enjoyment. 

That flip-of-a-coin difference is the reason its existence is classified as a technicality instead of a true exception to the rule. 

The one real exception to all contact being bad is Rhodey. And also Pepper and Happy, to a somewhat lesser extent. But always Rhodey. 

His therapist, well, former therapist, mentioned his ‘skin-aversion-turned-'touch-starvation’ exactly once before Tony left and never went back. 

It’s not something he needs anyone to be aware of, for one, and two, he doesn’t need anyone wondering why. 

It’s not that he’s not willing to be touched. It’s that there’s only one exception that allows for him to experience contact comfortably, and that’s Rhodey. 

Last he heard, Rhodey is still at the Edwards Air Force Base in Mojave, which makes him some 2,721 miles away. 

Which is 2,721 miles further away than Tony wants him to be, but apparently he can only fight the Air Force so many times before he risks getting himself locked away for obstruction or some other B.S. charge. Or so, Rhodey has said. Let it be said he’s willing to risk it if it means more time with his honeybear. 

The point is, contact with Rhodey is safe. But more importantly, it’s nice. 

Rhodey is the one person who never shies away from contact with him, who never hesitates to fold Tony into a tight hug until Tony literally can’t breathe anymore. That hasn’t happened since the reactor has become a thing but, the point still stands. Rhodey hugs are the best hugs, period. 

If skin hunger makes you feel detached and empty, any sort of physical contact with Rhodey feels warm. Sorta like being wrapped in a blanket that’s just come out of the dryer. Or being cuddled by a kitten who’s using your chest as a bed. 

It’s something fond and warm and loving, in a way Tony’s never been able to accurately describe. It’s probably a futile cause anyway, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. 

Like he said. Exception to the rule. 

While hugging Pepper or Happy does also make him feel safe too, Pepper is CEO which makes her busier than Tony, most days. Happy might be his bodyguard, but he’s also got other responsibilities as part of his security team- at least, until he transfers to be Pepper’s bodyguard. If Tony gets his way, that is. 

Which he will. She needs him more than he does. 

That leaves him with Dum-E and U. 

Given his only daily contact comes from his bots, yeah, okay, the whole skin hunger thing makes sense. Maybe it’s even a given. 

But it’s what he deserves. 

As if the initial clash in the quinjet wasn’t enough to prove Howard right that Captain America wouldn’t have liked him if he knew him, Tony gets Howard’s other particular brand of parenting thrown back in his face when Rogers proves his dear old dad right again. 

Technically, he proves Howard right, but that’s just schematics. Tony knows he and Rogers could actually be a semi-decent team if they both could just set aside their differences and talk, opposing strengths making for a cohesive team or whatever, yadda yadda yadda, but that’s a pipe dream at best, and he knows that too.

Captain America was my greatest success, and you were my greatest failure, Tony. 

Yep, anyway. 

It goes like this: in the heat of battle with one of two poor choices to make, Rogers gives his order. Tony makes a different call. 

I think I’d just cut the wire. Tony had meant it then, and doesn’t regret his choice now, but Rogers sees it (him) as a liability. Proof that he’s not a team player. 

He’s not the only one who sees it that way. 

The debrief ends as can be expected- loudly, with Tony and Rogers in each other’s faces as tensions rise. 

“This is not a game to be played,” Rogers snaps, hands tightly wound into fists at his side, “And if you keep acting like it is, people are going to die.” 

“Not everything is black and white, cut and dry,” Tony fires back. “I saw a third, better alternative, I took it. I’d do it again.” 

“And what happens the next time, when you go off script? You don’t have any training or experience to make tactical decisions in the field; one wrong move and people die! That’s why you have orders to follow— my orders.” 

Tony laughs, bitter and sharp. “This is not a battlefield, Captain. You keep treating it like one, you’ll forget what you’re fighting for. Like it or-”

“Can we please-” Dr. Banner tries to interject. 

Tony keeps on going. “Like it or not, I have the ability to see things you don’t out there. That’s half my shtick. You don’t like it, bring it up with Fury. Have my consult status revoked, I don’t care. I was out there protecting people before you were unfrozen, and I’m not going to stop just because your manhood’s been threatened over the fact I made a better call than you.” He turns his back to Rogers and storms towards the door. “We’re done here.” 

No one stops him. 

Nor does anyone, he later learns through the security footage, stand up for him. 

It shouldn’t hurt the way it does, but. He’s never been very good about not letting the opinion of others affect him. 

Failure, indeed.  

Chapter Text

It takes all of a day and a half before Rogers comes knocking on the door to his workshop. Tony has half a mind to send him away, but at JARVIS’s insistence that he hear him out, he gestures the man inside. 

Rogers looks every bit out of place in his workshop as possible. It’d be funny if it weren’t further proof that Howard was right about him and Rogers not getting along. Tony’s tired of Howard being right where he’s concerned. 

Tony clears his throat and waves Rogers over. “Come to tell me my consult status has been revoked?” 

Rogers grimaces. “I owe you an apology.” 

Whatever he’d been expecting, it isn’t that. “What?”

“You were right, you made the right call,” Rogers says. His position is straight, every bit the soldier, but his eyes give him away. “You can see things I can’t out there. I thought there were only two options, but you saw a third.” There’s something considering in his eyes. “You cut the wire.” 

Tony feels ice in his veins. It’s all he can do not to repeat the stunned, what? Instead, he manages, “I tend to do that.” 

Rogers offers him a small smile. “It’s something I need to work on.” 

It’s an awful lot like an olive branch. “I could probably use some tactical training,” Tony admits. 

“I’d be willing to swap secrets, if you are.” Rogers holds out his hand. “Start over?” 

Ah, fuck. Without a way to avoid shaking hands without looking like a complete ass, Tony reaches out and shakes his hand. 

“I’m Tony,” he says, to distract himself from the onslaught of Rogers’s emotions. Don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it. “Nice to meet you, again.” 

Rogers laughs, squeezes his hand briefly before letting go. “Steve.” 

Fuck. He thought about it. 

The strength of his emotions is staggering in its unexpectedness. There’s curiosity, fondness, sincerity, all mixed with lingering regret. Regret for how he misjudged Tony. 

And there’s a promise there too, a promise to do better in the future, to get to know him instead of believing what shows on the surface. 

It’s dizzying, how earnest and genuine he is. It’s even more surprising to realize that Rogers actually wants to get to know him. 

Somehow, Captain America is both everything Howard said he was, and nothing like he said he was at all. 

At least half of this must be showing on his face, but Rogers doesn’t press. Instead, he asks, “What are you working on?” He appears genuinely curious, but he’s quick to backtrack, “That is, if you don’t mind me asking.” 

Tony waves his concern away and takes the second-biggest gamble of his life, just short of trusting Rhodey at 14 with the truth about who he is, and pulls Rogers into a discussion he wasn’t planning on having for another week or two. Holding his breath, Tony pulls up a side-by-side comparison of Loki, one photo taken after his capture in Stuttgart, and the other after his capture at the end of the New York invasion. He doesn’t say anything, just waits. Hopes, stupidly, that he’s not giving himself away with too little evidence to back his claim. 

It doesn’t take Rogers long. “His eyes were blue.” He turns to face Tony, his expression serious. “Blue like Clint’s were when he was under control of the scepter.” 

“Right up until Hulk smashed him like Romanoff did with Barton,” Tony agrees. 

Rogers considers that, and him, it appears. “You think there’s someone out there who was controlling Loki.” 

Tony nods. I know there is, and we’re not ready for him. We weren’t even ready for Loki. 

“It was too easy to capture him in Stuttgart.” Rogers seems to be thinking. “He wanted to be captured.” It’s not a question, but Tony nods his agreement anyway. 

Rogers takes a deep breath and sits down on the stool at Tony’s side. “Show me what else you’ve got.” 

Rogers becomes the notable (and surprising) exception to his unwritten rule about the workshop being his sanctuary. If nothing else, working side-by-side with Rogers to gather evidence of Loki’s involuntary participation in his invasion leads to clear (and surprising) improvement to their relationship. 

It’s something that Tony is hesitant to claim is mutual respect, but it feels like more than just cordial cooperation on Rogers’s part, which is more than he had ever thought to expect, frankly. 

It’s significant enough improvement on their relationship off the field, Tony even getting Rogers to laugh once (and wasn’t that an ego boost to the 13-year-old him that still wanted Cap’s approval), that, for a moment, Tony actually lets himself believe it will help narrow the self-imposed gap between himself and the others. 

And then he and Rogers present the evidence to the rest of the team, plus Fury and Maria Hill, that Loki was at least partially under control during his invasion. 

It goes about as poorly as possible, meaning, it begins with shouting and ends with half the conference room empty in less than two minutes. 

Rogers stands firm at his side as the door closes for the final time, leaving just them behind in the conference room. “We’ll try again tomorrow,” is all he says, determination set in the cross of his arms.  

Tomorrow yields about the same. 

And the day after that. 

And that. 

On the fifth day, Barton finally asks what’s clearly been on his mind for the better part of the last three days. “Why are you pushing this so hard? After everything he did—” He doesn’t continue, but he doesn’t have to. His intent is clear enough. 

“With the exception of America’s Golden Prince, I think everyone in this room knows what it’s like to carry the weight of your actions with you with no end in sight,” Tony answers, meeting the agent’s hard gaze head on. “Regardless of whether Loki was in his right mind or not, controlled or not, he’s going to have to live with what he did.”

“But you don’t think he did it willingly.” It’s Romanoff who speaks up, her eyes narrowed as she studies him. It’s uncomfortable under the strength of her gaze, but Tony doesn’t look away. “Why?” 

It's the furthest they’ve made it in nearly a week. 

Tony exchanges a glance with Rogers before displaying the footage from Stuttgart, then the footage of his capture inside SHIELD, then the capture in his penthouse. 

Thor starts, hard, a whole body flinch-thing that looks wrong on him, but it’s Romanoff who says, “His eyes are green.” 

“Not blue.” Barton’s expression is unreadable. 

“When we fought on your tower, Loki was emotional, near tears,” Thor says quietly. It’s clear he’s shook. “Right before he told me it was too late to stop his invasion.” 

“A man out of time,” Rogers murmurs. 

“A man out of options.” Dr. Banner fixes his glasses, sits up straighter. “What else is there?” 

One by one, Tony and Rogers bring the group through the evidence they have compiled. Fury and Hill sit silent in the back, expressions every bit the spy, but Tony has no doubt they’re considering the implications that someone more dangerous than Loki exists who wants earth for their own. 

There is one crucial piece of evidence lacking in their presentation, of course, one that would make it indisputable that Loki was under control: Tony’s testimony about Thanos, the Other, and the torture Loki endured at their hands. 

Which is, of course, exactly the one piece of evidence he can’t share, not without revealing that he’s a touch telepath. 

He just hopes that what they’ve shared is enough, because he doesn’t have a plan if it’s not. 

The room is silent when they’re done. 

“Well,” Barton finally says. His expression is stormy but his voice, final. “I guess it’s time to call the International Criminal Court.”

Chapter Text

All eyes are on The Hague, Netherlands where the International Criminal Court presides over the worldwide spectacle of Loki’s trial. It’s an unprecedented event, the first of its kind, and it shows when they run out of room in the courtroom simply for the representatives of the world leaders. 

It delays the trial by an entire day as the ICC building staff work tirelessly to set up conference rooms to stream the trial to the leaders whose in-person attendance isn’t required for that day. Reporters from the same countries fill the outer seats of the courtroom while the rest are left to their own conference room to report live on the court proceedings. 

It is both the most safe building in the entire world, and the least safe at the same time. SHIELD agents armed with the newest technology - an upgrade Tony refused to service, since it would become the world’s weapon - flank the walls. The building itself becomes home to the united forces of every single nation who has sent representatives to attend the trial. 

It may be the first time the world’s leaders have ever come together in such a united way. 

The Avengers line the first row of the courtroom, placed directly behind where the defense sits. They are the chosen first line of defense, of course, should Loki decide to break the shackles Tony knows can’t hold him. Just as he also knows Loki won’t break them, not when he remembers the way Loki silently plead for the mercy of death just to stop Thanos’s torture. He didn’t want this but was forced to participate anyway, and Tony knows he’ll take whatever punishment is handed his way because he thinks he deserves it. 

He’s wrong, and Tony knows that too. 

The courtroom is washed in silence when Loki is first escorted into the room, only momentarily, before the entire room bursts into conversation. Talking becomes yelling that besets verbal abuse, leaving the judge’s demands of order! lost to deaf ears. 

Rogers shifts uneasily at Tony’s side, and Tony doesn’t need to touch him to know he’s set on edge from the noise more than Loki’s presence. Which is fair, he’s already getting a headache from all the noise, and he doesn’t even have super hearing, so he can’t even imagine how the pair of demigods and Rogers are feeling. 

Loki stands unflinching through it all, seemingly unphased to the calls of murderer. It would be an impressive showmanship of an immovable warrior, except Tony has felt his fear and knows he never wanted this to happen. Please, please, just let me die so this can end. So I can spare others this pain. It’s that simple distinction of Loki’s lack of desire for his invasion that holds guilt, guilt that Tony has no doubt is consuming him whole as the calls for his execution continue. 

The judge is standing still, pounding his mallet and clearly shouting for order, but his demands are easily drowned out by the crowd. 

Tony leans back in his seat, preparing to be there for a while, which is why he notices when Rogers stiffens at his side, a suddenly coiled spring ready to move. 

It’s instinct that causes Tony to reach over and touch the exposed skin of Rogers’s wrist. The eye contact they exchange is an unnecessary attempt at communication; Tony already knows. 

Tony leaps to his feet and makes a desperate lunge for the shooter, feeling the rush of the first bullets go past him as he throws his elbow up and hits the gun upward. Gunfire erupts in the ceiling, shattering a light and bringing glass and tile alike raining down on a screaming crowd as Tony wrestles for control of the gun. 

He pulls out a move he saw Romanoff execute on the security footage from her fight against Hammer’s security, managing to take possession of the gun just as a widow bite lands and the man goes down, hard. 

Tony keeps the gun aimed at the man’s leg as Barton turns the soldier over on his back and handcuffs him, handing him over to the SHIELD agents who swarm them. 

Tony empties the chamber and pulls the magazine before handing the gun over to one of them, uncaring as it and the soldier are escorted from the room. His attention is on the rest of the room, half of the representatives on the floor and the rest seemingly already evacuated with the reporters. With the exception of some sprinkling of cuts from the glass, no one seems to be hurt. 

Thor is just helping Loki to his feet when Tony looks over, Rogers standing above them with his shield in hand. His expression is unreadable, lost to the soldier as Tony approaches with Barton and Romanoff. 

Over the comm, Dr. Banner asks unsteadily, “Everyone okay?” 

“Define ‘okay,’” Tony answers absently, already revising in his head how to better secure the courtroom. “You good?” he checks with Rogers and Thor, glancing between them and Loki.

“Fine,” Rogers says curtly. “We-”

He’s interrupted by the judge who, given the absence of yelling with half the room gone and the other clearly shaken, is able to speak and be heard with his demand: “Session adjourned until the court can be assured safety.” He directs his next order at the Avengers and what remains of the SHIELD agents. “Make sure this won’t happen again.” 

His order is as good as written in stone; Tony already has a plan. 

“Get him back to SHIELD,” Rogers demands of the SHIELD agents who approach, forcing Loki forward when the god doesn’t move, his gaze still on Thor. He goes as directed but doesn’t look away from his brother- that is, until he’s in the doorway. He glances at Tony quickly, his expression one of surprise still, and then he’s ushered away. 

“Check on the representatives,” Rogers says in the relative quiet following. “Debrief in an hour.” He walks away without waiting for a response, not that anyone seems to have one to give. 

“JARVIS,” Tony murmurs when he’s out of earshot and his comm is on private, “Get me a list of everyone who will be in this building during the trial.” 

Rhodey calls him before he can make it to the conference room where the debrief is set to begin in two minutes. “You took on an armed would-be assassin?” are the first words out of his mouth. 

“Hello to you too, and yes, I’m fine, don’t worry,” Tony says in response. “JARVIS told you?”

“Me and Pepper; you should be grateful it’s me calling and not Pepper, because she has words for you, Tony, angry words. ”

Tony sighs. “I’m guessing J gave you the security footage?” 

“That, and I was watching the livestream from the reporters in the room. You’re lucky you’re unharmed or I’d be in a suit already, headed to shoot you myself. What were you thinking, going after a Navy SEAL with an AR-15? You could have been-”

“But I wasn’t,” Tony interrupts, “and you saw what happened. He was going to kill him.” Or try, at least. Tony doesn’t actually know what effect bullets have on Asgardians, nope, Jutons, but it’s information he’d rather not find out the hard way. 

“Thor got to him before the first bullet did, and Rogers was there by the time the second one did. We don’t even know he would have been—”

“I wasn’t going to take the chance,” Tony interrupts sharply. “You know what I-” He cuts himself off, cognizant of the fact he’s in a SHIELD hallway. “I’d do it again,” he says, softer. “Worst that happened was some cuts from glass and a few bruises, and yeah, a traumatic event for everyone involved, but no one got shot. I’d call that a win, and if it means I need to take on a gunman to make sure that’s the best outcome, then I’m doing it. You know you would have done the same.” 

Rhodey sighs. “I know. I just-” He stops, clearly finding the words for what he’s trying to say. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he finally says. “Okay?”

“I know.” If there’s one thing he never doubts, it’s Rhodey’s love. 

“Good. Listen, as soon as I heard from JARVIS what happened, I was going to put in to go, but they tapped me instead- I’m replacing that a-hole as security for the US. They’ve got me leaving in twenty, so I’ll see you tonight, okay? We can talk strategy for security while you fill me in on that thing between you and Rogers.” 

Tony sputters. “That was not- you know I- why am I even defending myself? You know damn well why I did that, and it worked, didn’t it?”

Rhodey laughs. “I was just messing with you, but clearly, I’m on to something there. You went from enemies to a well-oiled machine, and I want to know how. Clearly, there’s a story you haven’t told me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I’ve got to go - debrief and all that - but I’ll see you tonight.” 

They hang up just as the door to the conference room opens and Romanoff steps out. “You’re on time,” she remarks, clearly surprised. 

“Figured out of all of them, this one was actually important,” Tony snarks, put off by her surprise. The few times he’s been delayed to debriefs have been for valid reasons; the debriefs are the one team-related thing he doesn’t allow himself to miss. 

He’s fully prepared to walk around her to head inside, but she steps into his path and stops him with a hand on his arm. Tony stiffens even though he’s protected by his (new) suit jacket. “Don’t,” he says tightly, resisting the urge to pull his arm away. 

Whatever she was going to say is lost when there’s a rap on the door. Barton stands on the other side, confusion in his eyes as he beckons them inside. 

Tony uses the opportunity to pull away and heads inside before she can say whatever it is she was planning to. 

Fury calls the meeting to order as soon as he sits down. He begins by showing twenty-one different angles of the shooting, sixteen of which came from reporters from various networks around the world. He lets the videos play out and then rewinds, pausing on the time lock when Thor, Rogers, and Tony leapt into action. “What information am I missing?” 

He doesn’t elaborate but there’s really only one clear question he’s seeking an answer to. 

Thor answers first. “I heard him prepare his weapon.”

“And you went for your brother instead of the shooter,” Fury says flatly. He looks to Rogers next, a pinch between his brow. “And you, enhanced super-hearing, I’m guessing- any telepathy I don’t know about?”

“He took his safety off,” Rogers answers simply. He doesn’t offer an elaboration either. 

He’s next, and Tony’s not a fan of the annoyance in Fury’s expression. “Let me guess, you also managed to hear him take his safety off.”

“Actually, Rogers stiffened the second he heard the safety go off. Given that he leaned closer to me, I figured that meant all I had to do was turn my head to find the guy lifting up his gun,” Tony responds dryly. “The genius in my title is there for a reason, after all.” 

“This is not a joke,” Fury says sharply. “I have a decorated Navy SEAL who turned rogue and got his ass handed to him by a civilian and a spy, a trial that’s on hold, and half the world's leaders up my ass trying to figure out how to prevent today from happening again. I don’t need three of my team skating around the truth.”

“Does it look like we’re taking this lightly?” Tony fires back. “Believe what you want, but, truth is, we got lucky today. Tomorrow, maybe not. So instead of questioning us on a one-off, why don’t we actually use this time to make sure we can prevent a copycat situation from happening?”

Fury scowls but doesn’t seem to have a retort in mind. 

The debrief is the first of three pain-staking (but necessary) long meetings across two days to better secure the trial. For all their tiresome efforts and careful planning, the trial is secure due to one central contributor: Tony personally shakes the hand of every single person in attendance. 

For everything he learns, at least he can honestly say no one else has any plans to attempt murder. 

Chapter Text

No singular definition can properly depict what it is like to be tortured. The infliction of ‘severe pain’ is accurate on a surface level as far as the literal sense goes, that much Tony is willing to admit. But. 

Beyond that? 

Severe doesn’t begin to cover it. 

It can’t, not when each mark sears a memory of its own creation. A fraction of the pain, left behind. 

It’s one thing to know the disinterest of human life - of life itself - is proof of your torture. 

It’s another entirely to feel that very disinterest, that indifference present in every punch, every scrape, every touch. 

Tony’s felt someone’s love for him before, same as he’s felt someone’s hatred for him before. He’d thought Obie’s hatred was the worst he could ever feel, to be seen so keenly and still found wanting in every way—

And then he felt the indifference the men torturing him felt. Even gasping for air, fighting to remain awake, he felt it: their calmness, the eeriness of being calm even when he couldn’t keep himself from screaming in pain, from writhing to get away. 

He felt their apathy and their indifference, and somehow, worst of all, he felt their glee. 

He felt it so deeply he was sure it was his own. 

It’s that very feeling that haunts his nightmares, that causes his skin to burn when touched. 

It’s inescapable, that feeling. 

As he finds out, being controlled is scarily similar. It’s the same sinking feeling in his chest, the familiar way his skin crawls as scars burn into existence. It’s the weight of their minds clashing with his own as they press him down, down into submission until their thoughts are his—

Until there’s nothing left of him. 

The pain of remembering is worse when the ghost of their touch to his skin brings back the force of their cruel intent, the extent of their apathy — 

The pain of remembering is worse when you close your eyes and still can’t escape what it was like to not be alone in your own mind. 

It festers and it burns, a mangle of scars under the surface just waiting to be seen. It’s there with every touch, with every breath, with every speck of color in the sky that reminds of the threat looming overhead until—

Until all you can do is shatter your reflection in the glass. 

Until all you can do is let go and fall into the abyss. 

That easy acceptance, the relief in letting go, scares him. Terrifies him, actually. 

But not nearly as much as knowing of Thanos and his promise of torture and destruction does. 

One by one the Avengers are called to testify at the trial. The morning he’s scheduled to stand trial, he’s just finished putting his suit jacket on when a knock comes at the door to his hotel suite. 

“Agent Romanoff, Sir,” JARVIS supplies helpfully from the comm in his ear. 

Tony frowns at the information and sets his tie down as he walks to the door. Romanoff’s expression almost always looks carefully sculpted to be one of indifference - ever the face of a spy - but Tony thinks he sees a glimmer of surprise that he’s not ready before she gestures at the space behind him. “Can I?”

“Come in? Yeah, that’s fine, but-” Tony flounders as he takes a step back and opens the door wider. “Come to tell me what to say? Rehearse my testimony? It’s not my first time, you know; I’d save this speech for Rogers.” 

Romanoff looks unmoved by his attempt to deter her. “You have a bruise showing on your face,” she says, brushing past him as she heads into his room and walks over to the vanity to look through his makeup kit. 

Tony stares at her from the doorway as he slowly closes the door. “By all means,” he finally says. “Contrary to popular belief, I am actually capable of taking care of myself- and yes, that’s without the help of people making decisions or doing things for me.” 

“Like when you went after Hodgins.” Her back is to him as she pulls out a foundation, but Tony can imagine her look just fine. 

“I was wondering when you were going to bring that up,” Tony says in way of response, stepping closer. At her pointed look over her shoulder and gesture to the edge of the bed, he reluctantly approaches. “Going to comment on my form or finally begin your final report for Fury on my inability to work as part of a team?” 

There’s something in her expression that Tony almost wants to label as hurt, but it’s there and gone before he can be sure. “You watched the security footage,” is what she says instead of whatever is on her mind. “Had you asked, I would have taught you.” 

Tony shakes his head as he reaches for the tie on the vanity. “Happy’s my trainer,” he says. “He told me about you and Hammer’s security after Hammer was in cuffs. I saw the footage, learned a trick or two. Also learned Hammer’s security is even worse than I thought.”

Romanoff turns to face him now. “You’re deflecting,” she tells him plainly, before lowering her gaze to the foundation in her hands. “Take a seat,” she says, gesturing to the edge of the bed again as she pumps a dollop of foundation on the back of her hand. 

“I’ve got it,” Tony says, reaching for the bottle, “And no, I have no problem admitting that me attending trainings are a waste of everyone’s time.” 

“Steve doesn’t think so, and I’ve already put it on my hand. Sit down.”

“That’s because he can’t take a hint. I go to debriefs, not the gym, at least, not for trust falls and strength-building. It works; I think we’re doing just fine the way we are.” 

“You won’t accept help,” she says bluntly, “So, no, we’re not.”

“Just because I don’t see the point of sparring with a demigod doesn’t mean I won’t accept help,” Tony argues. “Accepted help when your widow bite took out Hodgins, didn’t I? Even let Barton handcuff him while SHIELD took him away. So whatever you’re getting at, whatever Fury wants you to assess about me now, I’m not playing along this time. If there’s nothing else—”

“I don’t want to be your enemy,” Romanoff interrupts before he can finish. “I came here to talk, that’s all.”

“An hour before I testify?” Tony shakes his head. “We’ve been on a team together for six months now; it can wait.” 

Romanoff looks ready to retort, but instead all she does is frown and look away briefly before sighing. “Let me cover up your bruise from Tuesday’s fight, then?” she asks. “I’ll wait to talk.”

The whole reason he’s fought this so much is because she wants to touch up his bruise for some reason, which means touching him, but— “On a scale of psychoanalyzing his idiosyncrasies to Tony Stark, Not Recommended, how bad will saying no reflect on me?” 

“I wouldn’t-” she immediately begins to respond, only to be interrupted by JARVIS who says, “Sir, Doctor Banner is questioning your whereabouts since you had agreed to head downstairs together.” 

That’s my boy. “Tell him I’m on my way,” Tony tells him, quickly finishing his tie as he leans over to grab his makeup kit. “Same time tomorrow?” It’s snide and he knows it, but it’s the only way he can think of to keep himself safe from whatever she’s offering. 

She doesn’t offer a response before he makes his exit. 

Once the session is opened, the judge begins by reaffirming that the Chamber is held in the Guidance of the Rule 68 Decision, allowing for previously-recorded audio and video testimony of a witness to be introduced as an expedition measure. What this means is this: Tony has already provided an oral and video testimony to the prosecution that has been submitted to the defense for approval of the compatibility with Loki’s rights as the accused. 

It’s a fancy way of saying that the majority of Tony’s testimony has already been submitted as evidence, just as the same is true for the rest of the Avengers, leaving him with only one question to answer when he takes the stand. 

See, the thing is this: it’s understood that Loki participated in the invasion and is to be held guilty for at least some of the deaths that occurred during the invasion. If there is one thing everyone is in agreement of, it’s that. What remains is the question of Loki’s faculties during the invasion, and how his sentencing should be impacted if he is found to have been under control during his attack. 

If he’s acquitted because it’s found that he was controlled, then the most likely outcome is some long sentence of community service, if not direct sentencing to the Avengers to defend the very planet he sought to destroy. If they lose the case and he’s found solely responsible for the attack, then, well, Tony’s not really sure what the sentence will be. 

Which leads to the question he’s answering in his testimony: What does he recommend the court do? 

It’s a unique question neither the prosecution nor the defense were allowed to ask any of them; it’s for this trial and this trial only, and only a select few people are deemed significant enough in the trial to answer the question. Being the last one on the team to be asked the question means he’s had some idea of what he was going to say, but it’s completely different knowing it’s him they’ve been waiting to hear from because he went to space and saw what else was there. 

That was an in-person testimony that Tony barely scraped by in before making a mad dash to his hotel room where he promptly lost his shit. 

But anyway. 

Tony can feel the heat of Loki’s gaze as he takes the stand, but he pointedly keeps his gaze set on the rest of the courtroom as the question is asked. There’s an awed hush about the room, all eyes on him as he leans closer to the microphone in front of him. 

“Seven months ago if you had asked any of us in this room or in the streets of our cities where we would be today, not a single person would have told you in the aftermath of the single most unprecedented event in our planet’s history. But this is our reality: demigods, aliens, and a new power unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. In the four months and eight days since we began this trial, I think it’s fair to say we’ve read every report, seen every video, and heard every testimony there is on the invasion in Stuttgart and New York City— all except one. You’ve asked me to testify today not to provide evidence or be witness, but to condemn a man for actions you’ve yet to let him speak on in this courtroom.”

Tony pauses, allowing his words to sink in. “Whatever you think of him, I challenge you to think of me. I was a war profiteer- sure, I thought my weapons would protect the servicemembers of our armed forces, but I made my fortune in selling weapons of mass destruction. For every person who we lost to the invasions, the weapons I made were used to take tenover, soldier and civilian alike, and yet, I’ve been asked to speak on how Loki should be sentenced. I was not under control, I was not tortured for months before my mind fell captive, so I’ll ask you this: if you gave me a second chance, then why are you so eager to condemn him? You’ve seen the evidence and you’ve heard my testimony already; you know what I think. You just don’t want to entertain the thought that there’s something worse out there, but let me tell you, as the guy who went up there and saw it all: it’s real. If we condemn the puppet for doing what the puppeteer tortured him into doing, then where does that leave us when the real attack comes?”

The courtroom is ablaze as reporters shout and representatives whisper to each other, but Tony ignores it all as he lowers the microphone and leans back in his seat, done. There’s surprise written across the faces of half his teammates, what looks like approval for the other half, but what catches Tony’s eye is the disbelief on Loki’s face. 

It’s gone just as quick as it was there, hidden by impassiveness as the judge regains order of the room, but Tony knows what he saw. 

Disbelief that someone had stood up for him. The same disbelief he’d had on his face when Thor had dove to protect him from Hodgins’s bullets. 

As if someone protecting him was inconceivable to him. 

Chapter Text

The progression of the trial brings about a distinct Before and After in Tony’s mind for how he interacts with the team. Looking at it closer, it might be because of how he proved he can work as a team during the assassination attempt, because on the battlefield, his title as the outcast is all but forgotten. 

It’s almost natural, the way they fall into step together when the newest big-bad tries to blow up Sunset Boulevard. Bruce directs Romanoff, Barton, and Thor where to help people evacuate, while Rogers keeps the attention of the attacker away from Tony as he steps out of his armor and pulls the bomb apart. 

It’s an intricate system, large and foreign in design- enough to warrant the Avengers, apparently, but it takes Tony less than two minutes to disarm the bomb and leave it in pieces on the floor. 

Thirty seconds later, Steve successfully wrestles the would-be bomber into submission and hands him off to SHIELD. 

No one is hurt. 

It’s efficient and easy; all in all, they were in transit longer than they were needed to put an end to the threat. It all seems too good to be true, the way they work so well together, which is probably why it all goes to shit. 

Tony’s just handed the pieces of the bomb over to the SHIELD agents when Rogers approaches, his hand light on his arm as he says, eyes infuriatingly earnest, “Nice work with the bomb.”

Tony stills, shocked by the rush of the pride and relief and the delayed realization that in the effort of getting to Sunset Boulevard as quickly as possible, he forewent his undersuit which means he’s still in the undershirt he was wearing when he was getting ready for the trial, which means—

Rogers drops his hand and takes a step back, his smile slipping away. “Sorry,” he says, somewhere between embarrassed and confused. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He clears his throat, gaze firmly set somewhere beyond Tony. “You did good, today.”

“Thanks,” Tony says, a little sharper than he means to. He winces in unison with Rogers, unsure of what to say to fix the awkwardness. He doesn’t know what to make of that damn pride, so shocking in its strength and existence. “Thanks for having my back out there,” he finally says, maybe louder than he should have. 

Rogers gives him a half smile in response. “See you on the quinjet?” he says hopefully. 

“No, I-” Tony gestures over his shoulder at his armor. “Got my own ride.”

It almost looks like disappointment shadows Rogers’s face before he nods. “I’ll see you at the debrief, then,” he says, nodding his head at him again before turning and quickly walking to where Romanoff is standing, watching. 

Barton walks up from behind him and knocks him in the arm as he walks by, muttering darkly under his breath, “Would it kill you to be nice to him?” The annoyance is clear in his voice.

The disdain he feels is tenfold. 

Tony resists the urge to rub the spot on his arm where Barton’s elbow made contact. From the outside perspective, he understands where Barton is coming from; his self-imposed distance from the others and awkwardness when touched does make him come off as the world’s greatest douchebag. It’s just-

He doesn’t mean to be. He doesn’t want to be. He just—

He can’t. Not when letting someone close risks the chance they find out who he is, what he is. 

It’s better this way. 

The morning the verdict is to be announced, Tony has just finished putting his tie on when a knock sounds at the door to his hotel room. Tony pauses in reaching for his watch, glancing over at the door. “Please tell me that’s room service I forgot I ordered,” he begs. 

“Mr. Odinson, actually,” JARVIS answers. “It appears you are more popular than you thought with the members of your team.”

“You’re telling me, and between you and me, I’m really not enjoying the fact that this is becoming a regular occurrence. First Agent Secret Spy, now the Golden Prince…Who’s next, America’s Perfect Soldier? Next thing you know they’ll be living in the Tower full time instead of just using it at a hotel, and then it's only a matter of time before everything unravels. And no, that’s not me being pessimistic; that’s realistic.”

The following silence is loud with JARVIS’s disagreement, but he wisely doesn’t argue as Tony heads for the door. Media smile on, he opens the door to reveal the God of Thunder standing in the middle of the hallway, “Point Break,” he greets, “What can I do you for?” He’s about to continue when he clocks the look on Thor’s face, a mixture of curiosity and confusion. He gets as far as wondering why Thor looks that way before it dawns on him. “You heard that, didn’t you?” he half asks, half accuses. “Damn super-hearing; I’m never going to get used to that.”

Thor gives him a small sheepish shrug. “It is out of my control, I’m afraid, but I endeavor to ignore what is not offered willingly.” He gestures to the open expanse of Tony’s rooms behind him. “If I may—?”

“Might as well,” Tony sighs, opening the door further so Thor can step inside. He shuts the door behind him and turns to face Thor, frowning in more than a little surprise when he sees the god is shuffling from one foot to another in the middle of his hotel room’s ‘living room’ area. “For a prince, I was expecting a better poker face than that,” Tony tells him bluntly.“You know, the whole being able to lie to your subjects thing without batting an eye, kinda goes hand-in-hand with being royalty, I thought- no offense.”

“None taken. Truth be told, I have never been good at ‘regulating my emotions,’ as Loki called it.” Thor shakes his head ruefully with what looks like a twinge of a sad smile. “He would tell me I was not fit to be king for that very reason; what I feel, I feel, with little to no hiding it.”

“Others would say that’s what makes a good king,” Tony counters. “It’s how you act on those emotions that matters.”

“That is something I am working on,” Thor admits.

“But you didn’t come here to talk to me about that.” Tony studies him. “The outcome of the trial is out of my hands.”

Thor is quick to shake his head and shut that down. “Bribery is not my kind.”

“But you are here to talk about Loki,” Tony says, certain. 

“I suppose I am that obvious.” Thor sighs and folds his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t the brother that Loki needed me to be. In our youth, we were each other’s fiercest rivals, but we were close. Mother would often have to come find us for supper because we had wandered deep into the forest, far away from wandering eyes so we could plan our next prank together. Escaping the watch of our guards was our favorite pastime, and we used their easy deceptiveness to laugh together over whichever townsperson we had made the brunt of our pranks.”

The wistful look on Thor’s face fades to one of regret. “On Asgard and across the realms, Loki is regarded as one of the most accomplished mages. It’s a revered title given to few, but it is something he has been shamed for by many in the past, and even now. It is an outdated practice, I admit, but Seiðr is regarded on Asgard as a women’s pursuit. This, his pursuit of knowledge, and his increasing love for mischief, set him apart from the others as we grew older, until eventually he was scorned.”

“And mischief became a tool to stand up for himself,” Tony muses. “Am I right?”

Thor nods. “I should have stood up for him. Against our people, my friends…” He hesitates. “Our father. His passion for tomes in the pursuit of knowledge was only ever a strength of his, but myself and others didn’t see it so. My failure to look after him and support him is perhaps my life’s greatest regret. I’ve often wondered what would have happened had I just been the brother he deserved. Perhaps, I could have spared him the pain his capture and this invasion brought him, and others.”

It’s silent.

“Thor,” Tony begins quietly, “Why are you telling me this?”

Thor gives him a sad, small smile. “Because, regardless of all else you could have chosen to believe in Loki after what he’d done, you saw beyond that to see him. Something so few - myself included - have done. Regardless of the outcome of this trial, you led him to be seen by the members of this world, not as a monster, but for who he is. It’s something I don’t take lightly, and I know he doesn’t either, even if he never gets the opportunity to tell you himself.”

“All I did was tell the truth,” Tony says carefully, uncomfortable with the level of vulnerability of the conversation. “What I saw of the invasion didn’t add up so I looked into things, realized he was under control, and got the ball rolling to make sure everyone else realized there’s something greater out there that we need to be concerned with. That’s all.” 

“Perhaps, that’s all you see it as, but it means a great deal to me.” Thor’s posture loosens as he walks closer, pausing in front of him to place a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Whatever you are afraid of, I do not know, but I do know that you are a good man. I do not think we would be as quick to dismiss you as you may fear.” With one final pat to Tony’s shoulder, he heads over to the door and leaves, leaving Tony standing shocked in the middle of his hotel room. 

“J,” Tony finally says faintly, “What just happened?”

“I believe Mr. Odinson expressed his gratitude and his approval of you as a member of his team,” JARVIS says, not unkindly. 

So it was actually real, and not just a dream. 

Huh. 

“Right. Well. That was unexpected.” Tony glances down at his watch and curses. “Can you tell Rhodey I’ll catch him after the verdict? I need to finish getting ready.”

“Already did, Sir.”

“And this is why you’re my AI.” Tony speed-runs through getting ready, knowing that he’s due in the courtroom sooner rather than later, but he can’t escape Thor’s words following him as he does. Whatever you are afraid of, I do not know, but I do know that you are a good man. I do not think we would be as quick to dismiss you as you may fear.

His words give him hope, which is a dangerous thing. Something Tony knows better than to let himself hold onto, no matter how tempting it is. 

But, despite all his efforts to be indifferent to Thor’s words, he still finds himself catching Thor’s eyes as he enters the courtroom. He can feel the weight of Romanoff’s gaze as she looks between him and Thor, and he can only guess at what she’s thinking as Thor inclines his head at him slightly as he approaches. At her side, Barton says something and her attention is pulled away, which Tony is all too grateful for as he takes his seat between Thor and Rogers. 

The courtroom is loud with speculation as it draws closer to the time the session is supposed to begin, and Tony already knows that no matter how it plays out, it’s going to be a long rest of the week. Their debrief last night had all but explicitly said as much, with Fury warning that there would be threats made if not attempted on all of their lives should Loki be exonerated in any way. 

It’s nothing that Tony hadn’t already thought of and prepared for, but he still finds himself carefully looking around the courtroom for any signs of a threat. Given how stiff Rogers is at his side, he’s not the only one bracing for some form of an attack. 

Rogers must notice him looking around because he leans closer, in his personal space but not touching in any way, to murmur, “We did it once, we’ll do it again if we have to.”

Tony glances at him, surprised. Though, he supposes he shouldn’t be, given Rogers’s professionality in whatever he perceives as a potential danger. He nods his head in agreement before turning back to scan the line of soldiers behind them. His eyes linger on the victims of the Germany and New York attacks instead, that is, until he catches the heat of one of them glaring daggers at him. 

He can’t really blame them for their clear hatred of him. In the wake of a loss as unprecedented as this, there needs to be someone to blame, and if Loki is cleared of criminal responsibility for the invasions, then all the victims are left with is a gaping, bleeding hole where there once was a loved one, with no repercussions in sight for those responsible. 

As much as he understands, it’s better for everyone involved if no one ever has to find out about what else exists out there, about who is responsible for the invasion. 

“All rise for the honorable Judge.”

Tony draws in a deep breath and stands. 

The judge enters the courtroom and takes his seat, along with the other two presiding judges. With a gesture that they sit down, the room sits, and just like that, the trial is in session. “It goes without saying that the proceedings of this trial are unprecedented in our time,” the judge begins. “We gather here today with the facts before us, facing the grave decision of how an alien, both person and god, should be charged for his role in the attacks against Earth. With that understood, let the defendant be brought in.” 

It is oddly reminiscent of the first day of the trial as Loki is escorted in to the calls of “murderer!” and the many bellows calling for his death. Rogers is equally as tense at his side as he was that first day, but he and Thor both show no signs of hearing a safety being unlocked, which gives Tony just the smallest bit of hope that they can make it through the verdict without an assassination attempt. 

Once Loki is seated, the judge calls out, “Let the record reflect the attorneys of the Office of the Prosecutor, the attorneys of the accused, and the accused present in the courtroom.” It’s there he stops, surveying the room. “I want to make it clear I will have no violence in this courtroom. I understand that this is a stressful, painful time for many, but I will not allow anything more than verbal protest at the conclusion of the reading of the verdict. Should anything else be attempted, you will be taken into custody and charged to the fullest extent of the law of your nation. Is that understood?”

The courtroom is silent, no one offering a protest.

“Good. Then let us proceed. The Court has received a message from the Chamber indicating that they have reached a verdict. Let the record reflect the Chamber’s entrance at 09:14:27 on this day, 18 December, 2012.”

One by one the members of the Chamber enter the courtroom, taking their seats with an air of finality among them. Once the courtroom has settled, the judge says, “Before the reading of the verdict, I’d like to remind this court and the nations watching what the charges are. First, the chapeau of Article 7(1) of the Statute which sets out the contextual elements of the first charge: Crimes Against Humanity. For the purpose of this Statue, “Crimes Against Humanity” means ‘any of the following acts when committed as part of a widespread or systematic attack directed against any civilian population, with knowledge of the attack.’ I encourage anyone seeking further clarification on this charge to refer to the court records that will be made available, same as every other proceeding of this court, at the conclusion of the trial. With no objections from either counsel, I will proceed to the second charge.”

No one says anything.

“The second charge,” the judge continues, “Nexus Requirement and Perpetrators’ Awareness in conjunction with crimes against humanity. Given that crimes against humanity must have been committed as part of a widespread or systematic attack directed against a civilian population, the nexus requirement in this case requires the defendant have requisite knowledge or awareness of the actions taken. Further, that conduct must be known by the defendant as part of or intended to be part of a widespread or systematic attack directed against a civilian population. In any case where there are crimes against humanity, and this is no exception, it is not necessary that the defendant be aware of the precise details of the plan being carried out.”

There’s a pause as the judge takes a breath and takes a sip of his water. Now ready, he continues,

“The third charge is Murder and Attempted Murder as committed in Article 7(1)(a) and Article 8(2)(c)(i)). Let it be understood that the crime of murder is committed in cases where a person is killed as a result of the perpetrator’s act or omission, whereas in the case of attempted murder, there must be ‘substantial steps’ taken to execute the crime, only for it to not occur due to circumstances independent of the perpetrator’s intentions. In this case, the actions of the Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D., the United States Army National Guard, the New York Police and Fire Departments, the responding Stuttgart, Germany, officials, and the independent acts of fleeing citizens are to be considered independent of the perpetrator’s intentions. With no objections, and at this point, there shouldn’t be, then I will proceed to the fourth charge.”

At the pause, Tony looks around the courtroom once more. Despite the looks of frustration and anxiety on almost everyone’s faces, it seems it’s more due to a lack of patience to hear the verdict than anything else. He can relate. It’s been a long trial. 

“The fourth charge, then, as defined in Article 8(2)(e)(i), is an Attack Against the Civilian Population. This crime requires the two material elements, the first being that the perpetrator directed an attack. For clarification for the room at large, an ‘attack’ constitutes any ‘acts of violence against the adversary, whether in offense or defense,’ while the ‘direction’ of an attack in this context means that the perpetrator selected the intended target and decided on the attack. The second material element of this charge is that the object of the attack was a civilian population not taking direct part in hostilities. This denotation of a civilian collection is one that indicates a collective, as opposed to individual civilians. The collective in question here is the human race of our planet, specifically the citizens of Stuttgart, Germany, and New York City, New York, USA.”

There’s a pause as the judge surveys the room. “Before I continue with the fifth charge, let me be clear that at the conclusion of the reading of the charges, the Chamber will set forth the relevant applicable law of the crimes with which the defendant is charged that differentiates them as intentional crimes instead of ordinary crimes. Therein after, will the verdict be read.” At the ensuing silence, he continues. “And the fifth and final charge: Destruction of Property. Within the meaning of Article 8(2)(e)(xii) of the Statute, the adversary in question for whom property was destroyed is the collective I have just identified. The crime of destroying the adversary’s property is committed if the following four material elements are fulfilled:

1. The perpetrator destroyed certain property, including movable or immovable, private or public items, with the result that the property was set ablaze, demolished, pulled down or so badly damaged that it is no longer fit for purpose.
2. The property must be property of the adversary. 
3. Third, such property must have been protected from that destruction under the international law of armed conflict. In this case, the properties destroyed must not constitute what the court has defined as ‘military objectives’, namely, according to Article 8(2)(e)(xii) of the Statute, are objects which ‘by their nature, location, purpose or use make an effective contribution to military action and whose total or partial destruction, capture or neutralization, in the circumstances ruling at the time, offers a definite military advantage.’ Let the record reflect that Stark Tower, all NYPD Stations for the city of New York City, the MTA Police Department, and all other military and law enforcement offices in the city of New York City constitute as a military objective, and must be excluded from this consideration. 
4. Lastly, the fourth element is the requirement that the destruction of the property of the adversary was not required by military necessity. 

“Are there any objections to this charge or any others as they have been explained?”

No one offers an objection, but it’s clear from the shifting and murmuring of the crowd that people are becoming antsy and just want the verdict. Tony can’t blame them; they’ve spent the last five and a half months establishing the charges and providing testimony and evidence for and against Loki’s guilt or innocence for the charges, so it’s not unfair to say people are getting frustrated by the review. 

The judge waits another minute, surveying the room, and then nods. “With the charges submitted to record, let it be understood that it is the role of the Chamber and the Chamber alone to determine if the material elements of the crimes have been committed with intent and knowledge by the defendant, within the meaning of Article 30 of the Statute. Should the Chamber determine that any of the material elements of any of the charges be found lacking of either or both intent and knowledge, then the defendant will be found not guilty for that charge. With that understood, the honorable judges of the Chamber will now review the relevant applicable law of the crimes that constitute them as international crimes.”

As the first judge begins the reading of the distinctions between ordinary and international criminal law, Tony allows himself to zone out and instead focus on surveying the room for any signs of danger. Loki sits tall and poised in front of Thor, his eyes set forth and an air of finality to whatever happens to him as, one by one, the crimes he is charged with are proven to be at the international level. Whatever the verdict is, Tony is certain he will accept the outcome with little to no pushback. 

Around him, reporters, government officials, and victims alike sit in a mixture of annoyance, anticipation, and anxiety, but no one seems to be preparing to attempt murder. Which is something, but Tony knows better than to take appearances as they are. 

A quick glance down at his phone and a few taps on the screen allows him to connect with JARVIS, who, using some of the upgrades Tony made to his holographic software after the assassination attempt at the first day of the trial, confirms that the safety is on every weapon in the room. 

Slightly reassured by that fact, Tony refocuses on the proceedings just as the presiding judge says, “With the distinction of the law before us, the Honorable Judge Bellet will now present the legal characterization of the facts, as mandated by the proceedings for this chamber. At the conclusion of the reading of those facts, the Chamber will then provide their verdict for each charge.”

Tony leans forward in his seat. He’s not the only one who does. 

One by one, the facts are read regarding Loki’s invasion in its relation to the charge of crimes against humanity. When the presiding judge is finished, all eyes turn to the speaker of the Chamber. 

The courtroom is silent. 

“On the basis of the facts, the Chamber therefore finds that, within the context of the attack on Earth on 3 May 2012 and 4 May 2012, that the acts described occurred pursuant to a policy to attack the civilian population. On the basis of the temporal and geographic extent of the attack, the Chamber finds that it was widespread within the meaning of Article 7(1) of the Statute. On the basis of the determination that the defendant was aware of the nature of his actions at the time of the enactment, however reluctantly, the Chamber finds the defendant had knowledge of the attack. Accordingly, the Chamber finds, in respect of Counts 2, 4, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16, 20, 23, 25, 27, 29, 33, 36, 38, 40, 42, 46, 49, 50, 51, 53, 55, 57, 58, 61, 62, 64, 66, 74…114 that the conduct was committed as part of the widespread and systematic attack directed against a civilian population, as required by Article 7(1) of the Statute. For the record, the Chamber finds that Loki Odinson committed the crime of an attack against the civilian population as a crime against humanity pursuant to Articles 7(1) and 2 of the Statute. Let the record note: guilty.”

The courtroom erupts into conversation, cameras flashing and people shouting as the judge bangs his gallet and tries to regain control of the room. Tony makes eye contact with Rogers first, who is tense but unsurprised, and then Thor, who looks devastated but equally unsurprised. There’s nothing to be surprised at, really; it has been understood from the very beginning that Loki carried out the invasion attacks both in Stuttgart and New York City. If he comes away without being found as committing each and every act, that would be surprising. 

See, the trial has never really been about determining whether or not Loki is the one who enacted the invasion. That’s understood already as what happened. Instead, the trial is for determining who should be held responsible: Loki, for it all; Loki, partially, and the rest to those who influenced him and forced him to enact the invasion; or all of it to those who influenced and forced Loki to enact the invasion. 

That’s the question Tony doesn’t have the answer to. Truth be told, he doesn’t have the slightest notion of how the court will rule. 

“Order in this court!” the judge demands once again, banging his gallet. “The next person to speak will get taken away in handcuffs.”

The room falls silent. 

Nodding his approval, the judge turns to the Chamber. “Go ahead.”

After clearing her throat, the presiding member of the Chamber reads, “On the basis of the facts, the Chamber therefore finds that, within the context of the attack on Earth on 3 May 2012 and 4 May 2012, that the acts described determine that the defendant had both requisite knowledge and awareness of the actions taken, including for the attack to be widespread and directed against the civilian population of both Stuttgart and New York City. In this, the Chamber finds that Loki Odinson committed the crime of Nexus Requirement and Perpetrators’ Awareness in conjunction with crimes against humanity.”

“On the third charge, on the basis of the fact, the Chamber therefore finds that, within the context of the attack on Earth on 3 May 2012 and 4 May 2012, that the acts described determine that the defendant committed both Murder and Attempted Murder as outlined in Article 7(1)(a) and Article 8(2)(c)(i)) for a total of 223 counts of Murder and a still unknown count of Attempted Murder.”

“On the fourth charge, the Chamber finds that, within the context of the 3rd and 4th of May 2012 attacks on Earth, that Mr. Odinson committed an Attack Against the Civilian Population as defined by Article 8(2)(e)(i).”

There’s a moment of silence before she continues, “On the fifth charge, the Chamber finds that, within the context of the 3rd and 4th of May 2012 attacks on Earth, that Mr. Odinson committed Destruction of Property within the meaning of Article 8(2)(e)(xii).”

At his side, Thor is almost painfully still. Tony’s not sure he is breathing, actually. 

The presiding member of the Chamber looks up from her paper and looks down at Loki from across the room. “However, on all five charges and on all counts, let the record reflect that the Chamber finds, within the context of the attacks on Earth on the 3rd and 4th of May 2012, that forces unknown to this Chamber equally contributed to and committed the crimes in question.”

Tony starts.

Thor exhales. 

Loki is now the one who doesn’t seem to be breathing. He doesn’t seem to know how to process that statement. 

If the sudden yelling is any indication, neither does some of the members of the audience behind them. 

The ruling that Loki and ‘forces unknown’ both are responsible for the invasion is huge. Considering the unprecedented nature of the trial and the circumstances surrounding it, their ruling is fitting. In this case, it’s the closest thing to fair as possible, even if people are already calling for Loki’s execution behind him. 

It takes the judge almost five minutes this time to get the court to settle down. “Let the record reflect that the Chamber is to present their verdict at my direction,” he commands. With a nod to the presiding Chamber officiant, he gives his approval. 

The presiding member of the Chamber takes a deep breath and declares, “On the attack on the charge of an Attack Against the Civilian Population as a Crime Against Humanity for the attack in Stuttgart, Germany, the Chamber finds, while the defendant, Loki Odinson, was coerced and controlled by forces unknown, he had an active role during the invasion, and, therefore, is found guilty. On the charge of a crime of an Attack Against the Civilian Population as a Crime Against Humanity for the attack in New York City, New York, United States of America, the Chamber finds, while the defendant, Loki Odinson, was coerced and controlled by forces unknown, he had an active role during the invasion, and, therefore, is found guilty. For both charges equating 349 and unknown counts, Loki Odinson is found guilty.” 

Loki straightens. Accepting, as Tony knew he’d be.

The courtroom is alight with the shuttering of cameras and the yelling reactions of various audience members, completely drowning out the voice of the judge as he tries to calm the room. Tony is still processing - a difficult thing to attempt when it sounds like he’s in the middle of a football stadium full of people yelling - when there’s a sudden burst of movement at his side. 

Tony flinches, raising an arm on instinct to protect his face, but it’s not necessary. 

Rogers meets his eyes as he slowly lowers his arm; held in Rogers’s right hand is the metal water bottle that was chucked at Loki and came within inches of hitting Tony in the back of the head instead. 

Had it landed, Tony’s pretty sure it’s an easy guess it would have left a pretty lump. If it hadn’t knocked him flat out, that is; metal anything to the head isn’t an experience that typically goes well.  

Well. That was close. 

“Thanks,” Tony manages just as Thor stands up roughly, Mjölnir somehow already in his hand as he bellows, “Enough!” 

The room goes still. 

“I want this crowd escorted from the courtroom,” the judge orders, getting to his feet as he points to the door to emphasize his point. “Governmental representatives and the Avengers, only. Everyone else, out.”

There’s a moment of silence after he’s finished, no one moving or saying anything. “I said, governmental representatives and the Avengers only,” the judge says sharply. “And find who threw that bottle and have them arrested for assault as defined in their respective nation. I will not tolerate violence in this chamber.” 

Members of security immediately begin escorting the members of the audience from the room as ordered. Over the grumbled protests of the people being forced to leave, Rogers leans closer to Tony, their shoulders now touching, so he can murmur for their ears only, “Are you alright?”

“Good reflexes,” is Tony’s response. “They should patent that serum before everyone tries to make their own.” He cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Bad joke. I’m only sometimes that big an ass, and I wasn’t trying to be one just now, I swear. I’m fine. It could have been a bullet, so, really, I’m grateful.” He pauses and says awkwardly, “Thanks.” 

Rogers offers him a small smile. “Glad I was able to catch it in time.” He leans away, resettling in his own seat, and Tony finds himself staring after him momentarily, unsettled by the realization that Rogers’s proximity didn’t make him uncomfortable. 

He’s not sure what to do with that realization at all. 

His comm beeps in his ear, distracting him, and Tony taps it, letting JARVIS adjust it to the proper channel. “That was close,” Rhodey says plainly, getting right to the point. “You good?” 

“Not a scratch on me,” Tony reassures. 

“Good. See you after.” The comm beeps with the disconnect of their line, and Tony refocuses just as the judge calls the courtroom back to order. With a nod to the presiding member of the Chamber, the trial renews like nothing happened. 

The presiding member takes a deep breath and pointedly doesn’t look Loki’s way as she says, “On the charge of Nexus Requirement and Perpetrators’ Awareness in conjunction with crimes against humanity for both attacks in Stuttgart, Germany, and New York City, U.S.A., the defendant, Loki Odinson, is found guilty.”

There’s a beat, not longer enough for anyone to even begin to process that, before she continues, “On the charge of Murder and Attempted Murder, for all counts 1-223 and unknown, the defendant, Loki Odinson, while an active participant, cannot solely be held responsible due to overwhelming evidence of his coercion and control during the invasion by forces unknown to this Chamber, and, therefore, is found guilty for half the sum of the lives lost and attempted, with the forces unknown at play to be held equally responsible for the other half.” 

Loki flinches, hard. 

“On the charge of an Attack Against the Civilian Population, the defendant, Loki Odinson, is found guilty.” This time, the presiding member of the Chamber doesn’t hesitate to continue, “On the charge of Destruction of Property, the defendant, Loki Odinson, is found guilty.”

The courtroom is oddly quiet, everyone seeming to be processing the finality of those words. All eyes are on the judge, waiting. His expression is unreadable, the silence tense as it lingers. Finally, he rules, “Let the record reflect that on this day, 18 December, 2012, at 10:02, the Chamber delivered its judgment pursuant to Article 74 of the Statute, convicting Loki Odinson of a total of 34 crimes against humanity. This court will reconvene on 28 December at 09:00 for a hearing on sentencing under Article 76(2) of the Statute. Whereby, the defendant, his counsel, representatives of the Office of the Prosecutor, the legal representatives of the victims participating in the proceedings, the ambassador of each nation, and the Avengers will be present to hear further submissions and any additional evidence relevant to the appropriate sentence to be imposed on Loki Odinson. Both the Defense and the Prosecution have only until 25 December, 2012, to submit evidence and request the introduction of any additional witnesses. All written submissions by the Prosecution, the legal representatives of the participating victims, and the defense, must be filed by 25 December, 2012. This courtroom is now closed and will reconvene on 28 December, 2012, for the hearing of sentencing. Bailiff, you may escort the defendant back into SHIELD custody to await sentencing.” 

With the pounding of the gallet, it’s over. 

The courtroom slowly fills with increasing chatter as Loki is escorted from the room and governmental representatives begin whispering to each other about the verdict. 

Tony shifts in his seat, looking over at Thor carefully. “You doing okay?” 

“It is a lighter verdict than I expected,” is all he says. “Perhaps, lighter than he deserved.” Thor’s expression is troubled. “They will seek to make him their weapon.” 

No one immediately moves to argue the point. They can’t, not when they’re each a part of the weapon of mass destruction the American government created. 

“We should discuss this after the debrief,” Rogers murmurs, “Away from unwanted ears.” 

Tony winces internally. “I have the tech to give us a protected conversation in my hotel room.” 

There’s a couple of sharp looks his way, maybe- it could also just be surprise that he’s offering- as Rogers nods his agreement. “7:30?” 

A simple look at each other is all it takes, Banner chiming his confirmation over the comm. 

Chapter Text

“There’s something ironic about the ICC ruling that Loki has to live at SHIELD when I’m 99.99% sure that I’m helping you paint this wall because he escaped SHIELD,” Rhodey comments nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t brought it up five times in the past three hours. 

Tony snorts. “He didn’t have his magic-dampening bracelets like he does now, for whatever that’s supposedly worth.” 

“Trust issues much?” Rhodey shakes his head as if his trust issues aren’t the reason they’re having this conversation. “Not sure how we’re supposed to just take the word of his mother-”

“Adopted-”

“Adopted mother, that he can’t one, remove the bracelets with his own magic; two, can’t use his magic for harm, because defining what harm is or what can be harmful to someone else is obviously  a perfect science with no room for magical confusion at all, which means there’s bound to be some loopholes for him to exploit; not to mention, three, what’s to say he won’t just decide in the middle of a battle to just kill all of you without his magic?” 

“Is this supposed to be a pep talk for our first team plus Loki meeting tomorrow morning? Because if so, we’re going to have to work on your people skills.” Tony smirks as he finishes his section and heads over to where Rhodey’s putting the final sections on his wall. “It’ll be fine, honeybear. I’ll even shake his hand if it’ll make you feel better, just to get a time and date for my attempted murder.” 

“Not funny.” Rhodey drops his roller into the tin and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m back on base tomorrow, which means I won’t be there to have your back. Not just with him, but with the entire team. Bad enough Loki’s going to be on the same team as you, but then there’s a team of super soldiers and spies living in your tower, with you, full time, any who could learn about your telepathy—”

“I’ll be careful.” Tony gives a smile that’s probably way too false to even fool Hammer, but Rhodey doesn’t call him on it. “Made it through college with only you finding out, didn’t I? It’ll be fine.” 

“You told me.” Rhodey shakes his head. “Still don’t know what I did to make you feel you could trust me, but I’m grateful for it. Even if you’re going to make me gray prematurely.” 

Tony laughs. “Comes with the territory of being my friend, so I think that’s on you. Not my fault you took one look at me and decided to adopt my disastrous, moody teenage self.” 

“Someone had to!” Rhodey defends, but he’s smiling. If it weren’t for the hand he places on Tony’s arm to guide him over to the sofa so they can take a break before they have to paint the next wall, Tony would have no idea about the underlying current of worry for him that’s keeping Rhodey up and making his smile dim when Tony’s not looking.

He’s still not sleeping and I don’t know how to help, and he’s going to be alone with the Avengers and working with Loki and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get there on time if he needs me, and how do I convince him that he can talk to me about his nightmares without making him shutdown and push me away? 

Tony smiles as he bumps his arm against Rhodey’s and collapses on the sofa next to him, sliding into his arms with practiced ease, uncaring to the paint on his shirt that’s staining Rhodey’s as he cuddles closer. He doesn’t mention what he felt, and neither does Rhodey. 

They both know he knows, anyway. 

“It’ll be okay,” Tony tells him, unexpectedly soft, even for him. He has a feeling Rhodey needs it. “You and I both know Loki could have fucked off to godland a long time ago and avoided a trial, magic-dampening bracelets, and reperations for a planet that still mostly hates him, but he didn’t. Pretty sure he thinks he deserves this, which means he’s going to duck his head and do the work to help us protect things. Not saying he’s not dangerous, but I don’t think he’s a threat.” 

“I still don’t like it.” Rhodey sighs as he dips his head closer to rest his cheek on top of Tony’s head. “You’ll send a message if you need me to come home?”

“I’ll even send a pigeon, if that’ll make you feel better.” Tony closes his eyes and lets himself sink into Rhodey’s exasperated fondness. Rhodey always feels like the home he’s never really had. 

If he ends up dozing off embarrassingly quickly in Rhodey’s arms, well, no one can blame him. Rhodey hugs are the best hugs, and he always gets the best sleep when he’s with his Rhodey Bear.  

Tony strolls into the conference room with an air of nonchalance he’s not even close to feeling as he pats Banner’s shoulder, nods a dispassionate hello at the pair of agents, answers Thor’s too merry greeting for how early it is, and says a cordial “Captain” at Rogers, all on his way to stop in front of where Loki’s sitting in the corner furthest from the door to say, “You’re a tea drinker, am I right?” 

The rest of the room falls silent, more than one pair of eyes burning his back as Tony ignores all of them in favor of the docile God of Chaos in front of him. 

Loki lifts his head, surprise fading away to disinterest by the time he meets his eyes, and says evenly, “You guess correct.” 

“Great. I still owe you a drink, and you owe me at least ten hours of renovation assistance on my tower, so I’ll supply the tea - just let me know what kind - and we’ll start with the flooring. You have your pick between random overnights or the occasional weekend because that’s really the only time I’m free.” Loki blinks at him absently, maybe a little caught off guard just like the others are, if Barton’s sputtering in the background is anything to go off of, but Tony doesn’t wait for a reply. He just gives a nod of agreement to his own proposal and winds his way back to his normal spot as he waits for Fury to lose the whole smoke-coming-out-of-his-ears-look he’s got going on so he can start the meeting. 

It’s a little bit funny. 

If half the team pays more attention to him than Fury’s checkbox list of “you will do this” and “you won’t do this or this will happen” to Loki, well, Tony’s only half listening himself. He got the cliff notes version from JARVIS earlier, anyway, and besides, he’s more interested in the paperwork Pepper sent him for the R&D positions they’re hiring. 

It takes all of three days after Loki’s position on the Avengers becomes official for it all to go to shit, which just so happens to also be the third day of the new year. 

They’re off to a great start, truly. 

The call to assemble comes at 10:23AM on a Thursday because nothing can ever be easy or nice, Tony dragging himself from a work bender-slash-sleepless night slaved over the newest iteration of the Iron Man armor in his workshop to go fight the latest Big Bad. 

Per the ICC’s ruling, Loki “cannot arrive on the scene of an Avengers’ Assembly” without a) an Avenger present, b) prior authorization from the Director of SHIELD, under which the following conditions must all be met: 

1. Tony doesn’t care what the so-called conditions are. 

It’s SHIELD’s call and they all know Loki won’t ever be called out to the scene before the rest of them because they, read: SHIELD, all trust him for shit, still, despite the ruling of his partial responsibility for his invasion. 

Which means Loki remains held back at SHIELD in whatever cell-not-cell his quarters are while Tony arrives first on a leveled city block in the middle of Houston, Texas. 

His first thought is, there’s too many idiots here with guns that are going to do more harm than good. 

His second thought is, I hate when I’m right when he has to prioritize getting said idiots out of the middle of the danger zone because they refuse to evacuate while there’s a literal parade of 50 fucking aliens storming the streets of Houston. 

Aliens, again. The last time there were aliens— 

Fuck. Visions of the wormhole creep along the edges of his vision, distorting the rush of edgy-scaled lizards that are marching all around him, hellbent on spitting on anyone or anything in their path—

Aaaannnddd that would be acid or something to that effect coming from the aliens’ upchucking, because that’s definitely a melting car in front of him. Oh, they’re so fucked. Everything is fucked. 

Jesus Fucking Christ. He’s either losing it or he’s having a nightmare. There’s lizards attacking Houston, and they’re spewing acid that can melt metal. Please god, let this be a nightmare. 

“It’s a panic attack, Sir,” JARVIS says helpfully from his HUD, which does absolutely nothing to calm him down. Why aliens, again? 

Tony ends up scorching his own armor with a repulsor blast to the foot just to get his shit under control so he can order JARVIS to identify a triage zone while he begins the assault on the aliens. 

Aliens. Again. He’s going to lose it as soon as this is all said and done. 

He needs to stop losing it first, but. You know. Fucking aliens. 

It takes a few minutes of half-breaths and tears sliding pathetically down his face while he repulsors the life out of eight of the 58 alien-lizards storming senselessly around him for Tony to finally register that JARVIS, Rogers, and Loki, for some reason, are trying to get his attention. “What?” he snaps irritably, somehow managing to keep his fear from making his voice wobble. “Can’t a guy fight an acid lizard army in peace?”  

He’s definitely just earned himself a reprimand and a really, I expected better from you look from Cap at the debrief, but Tony thinks he deserves a free pass for that one. Dying in a wormhole fighting aliens definitely earned him a free pass fighting against aliens. 

Surprisingly, it’s not JARVIS or Rogers who answer his retort, but Loki. In the form of a dagger that slides neatly through the air to decapitate the alien that had apparently been right behind him preparing to melt him. Fucking lizard-alien. “You would remain out of their reach if you stay in the air,” Loki tells him, primly. “I suggest you use that to your advantage, else you risk melting in your suit.”

Fucking. Aliens. 

Rogers says something over the line to the pair of super spies about getting up high to avoid getting thrown up on by the lizards, which Tony wholeheartedly supports. He has a feeling they’re going to have to start telling civilians to climb shit in order to stay safe, which is going to be a trip, but hey, whatever works. 

Which reminds him. “What’s the plan here?” he demands as he takes after a stray lizard, watching it spew acid onto a bench that’s definitely never going to be used again. “My repulsors do jack shit unless it’s to the chest or head, are bullets even cutting it? Arrows?” 

“Only my new widow bites work to the chest and neck,” Romanoff says smoothly, much too calmly, Tony thinks, considering he just gave those to her a couple days ago and he only gave her twelve. “I’ve killed six to Hawkeye’s four.”

An explosion sounds. “Five,” Barton retorts, “I’m kinda running out of exploding arrows, though.”

“They need to be overpowered,” Thor says, way too jolly for the situation. “Electrical currents must be high enough to stop them with a single charge, otherwise you have to aim for the heart or the head to cease their bodily functions. Mortal weapons will not be enough to penetrate their bodies.”

Of course. Because why would anything have to be easy? 

“Decapacitation also works wonders, but I’d not recommend being in a position where hand-to-hand combat is necessary,” Loki adds with an air of nonchalance, as if half their team isn’t going to run out of options any second now.

There’s a beat of silence before Rogers says, “Thor, Loki, we’ll follow your lead. Iron Man, you got the charge to take them out long-term?” 

Tony has already run the math with JARVIS. “I’m going to need a power source,” he admits. “Thor, you feel up to giving my suit a jump?”

“Aye, I am heading your way!” Thor declares, and that’s that, apparently. 

“Widow, Hawkeye, and I will assist with evac and triage,” Rogers determines. “Let us know if you need us to jump in for an assist. Hulk, you good to keep fighting?”

No response comes over the line, but there’s a solid thunk over the line that sounds suspiciously like an alien being tossed through a wall, so that’s probably a yes. 

They settle in after that, surprisingly decent at the whole fighting together thing despite the fact that this time Loki is fighting with them instead of pretending to be against them, and his magic is all sorts of a spectacle to watch. 

Even with his magic-dampening bracelets, Tony has a feeling they’d have been toast in two minutes flat if Loki had been even trying 1% harder to beat them during his invasion. 

Which is a scary thought, admittedly, but he’s fighting at Thor’s side with a long-practiced ease that apparently comes from most of a millennia spent fighting side-by-side, with a combination of daggers and green bursts of magic that makes Tony’s repulsors look like jack-shit in comparison. 

Still, they’re actually doing the thing, evac and rescue efforts between the Avengers, SHIELD, local law enforcement and Fire/EMS all working together to get everyone a few blocks away to triage while Thor, Loki, Hulk, and Tony fight the shit out of the lizard-aliens, until they’re finally down to the final eight. They’re so close to the post-battle rescue, evac, and clean-up that it feels like any other battle, except this is a battle against aliens, and all of a sudden a whole bunch of young children’s voices come screaming down the line in fear, which can really only mean there’s an alien where Barton just said he was helping evacuate a school field trip from a damaged storefront.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tony swears, leaving his alien to Hulk as he weaves between buildings to get the half-mile away to Barton before anyone can get killed—

“I want you to run down to the traffic light as fast as you can,” Barton’s voice comes over the comms, and his directive is carefully calm like he’s not standing armed with a single non-exploding arrow in front of an alien about to spew acid everywhere with a whole bunch of scared kids huddled together behind him— 

Tony doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate, just glances at the math JARVIS is displaying on his HUD and throws everything he has into making a frantic lunge at the alien, sending them crashing into a car and then smashing into a pile of acid, metal, and burning alien flesh on the street. 

“Come on, come on,” Tony mutters, firing his reactor over and over again, but he can’t get the angle, not with the alien half on him and half collapsed in a screaming, acid mess at his side— “JARVIS, give it all you got from the reactor!” he yells, and just like that, the alien goes lifeless on top of him, Tony struggling to roll it off of him before the entire weight of the alien is lifted away and his vision suddenly clears. 

“Thanks for the save, Point Break,” Tony says, trying to sit up, only to swallow back a scream as pain shoots up his leg and black spots dance across his vision. Tony slumps back with a half-sob-wheeze combo, ears ringing as he faintly hears himself say, “I think he got me.” 

“Aye, Man of Iron,” Thor tells him, gravely, and all of a sudden his faceplate is being ripped away as Thor presses a frighteningly cold hand on his neck. Why is anyone's guess, but it’s hard to focus when there’s a feedback loop of uncertainty, concern, sympathy wrestling for control against his own overwhelming pain and nausea. Vaguely, he recognizes that Thor is saying something and that JARVIS is talking, but he can’t hear anything over his tired demand of, “Open.” 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Sir, not with the damage to your right leg,” JARVIS answers. To Thor, he says, “You will not be able to touch his suit without getting injured. You will need to find another way to open the suit.” 

Tony wheezes a half-hysterical laugh. “Someone please tell me the kids are okay.” 

Barton appears in his line of vision, eyes running over the length of him before his eyes widen and then his mouth settles in a hard line. “Loki, get your magical ass over here,” he orders. To Tony he says, “Kids are fine. You dumbass, what were you thinking?”

Tony tilts his head back and stares up at the sky as everything dims around him. “I followed the math,” he says, just as Loki appears. “Pretty sure we can’t all be sitting this one out,” he mumbles, just as Thor’s concern flares closer to worry and everything fades away. 

Chapter Text

“‘I’ll be careful,’ you said. ‘It’ll be fine,’ you told me.” Rhodey folds his arms over his chest, Pepper glaring at him tearfully from the edge of his bed, as Rhodey continues, “‘It’ll be okay, honey bear, I promise,’ my ass— you didn’t even make it seventy-two hours!” 

“In my defense, I didn’t see this coming.” Tony offers them a tired smile that immediately turns to a grimace when Pepper loses her tears so she can start yelling at him. “Okay, okay! Uncle!” he exclaims, waggling his hands to get her to gape at him instead of ranting. “I’m sorry, okay? Trust me, I’m not exactly a fan of this either, but he was about to attack a bunch of kids! I couldn’t just do nothing—”

“You couldn’t have shot him?” Pepper sniffles. “If it weren’t for that healer Thor snuck down here-”

“Yeah, what’s with that, by the way?” Tony interrupts. “How’d I get on his good side?” 

Rhodey shoots him a look. “Pointing out his baby brother was under control and leading the charge to give him a fair trial might have helped, don’t you think?” 

“I didn’t-” Tony shuts up when Pepper glares at him again. Wrong avenue, yep, message received. “Okay, maybe I did,” he admits, “but it was only a matter of time before someone else noticed! I just- happened to get there first. That doesn’t warrant all this!” He waves at the cocoon thing wrapped around his leg that an Asgardian Healer that Thor snuggled down from Asgard put on him so he could keep his leg. 

“Obviously, it does, or else this would be a lot more depressing.” Rhodey doesn’t soften, not even when Tony stretches his hand out to take his. “This can’t happen again, Tones. You could have lost your leg.” 

“I know.” At least, he thinks he does. It’s a hard thing to process, after all. “I wasn’t thinking, okay? All I knew was that kids were screaming in fear in my ear and that JARVIS ran the numbers and at least half of them were going to die, so I just- acted.” 

“Don’t do it again,” Pepper demands. She’s trembling a little, okay, maybe a lot, enough that Tony ignores his pain so he can sit up and pull her closer, her head ducked into his shoulder as he awkwardly pats her back, his other hand still held tight in Rhodey’s. 

Idiot, Rhodey is repeating over and over again, but it feels a lot like please don’t ever do this again, okay? I don’t want to lose you. 

Tony squeezes his hand and pulls him into the hug as well. He can’t promise anything and they both know it, but for now, he lets Rhodey have his moment of pretend. 

The night that he’s released from the medbay to his penthouse for “strict bedrest for two days,” Rogers nodding his head firmly at the doctor's orders alongside Pepper as if they’ll both be helping to enforce that point, Tony is sprawled out on the sofa in the living room when there’s a fizzle of something and then Loki appears in the middle of the room. Standing in casual clothes with his arms at his sides, he comes across a lot less threatening than Tony and Loki both know he actually is. 

Tony just lowers his tablet and waves his hand to calm JARVIS’s sharp, “Sir.” 

He’s kinda curious to see what Loki wants, if he’s honest. 

Loki takes a step closer, stops with a growing look of suspicion. “You don’t seem scared of me.”

Tony shrugs. Reaches over- slowly, noticing Loki’s sharpening gaze- and grabs his glass of water from the end table. He sips it slowly, appraising, and finally says, “Figured it was only a matter of time until you got bored at SHIELD and decided to explore. I take it there’s a duplicate in your place back in your unofficial cell?”

Loki’s eyes sharpen with clear surprise at being read so easily. Tony resists the urge to grin; he loves being right, especially when he’s being underestimated. Still, Loki did ask him a question, and it would be rude not to answer, especially when it becomes clear Loki’s not gonna answer his assumption about the duplicate back at SHIELD. “Right now we’re just having a conversation, so I figure we’re good, unless I’m supposed to be scared of you?” 

There’s that second burst of surprise that makes Tony actually smirk. He has no idea why Loki’s here, not that it really matters, but he’s still caught completely off guard when Loki says, assessing, “You led the efforts to get me exonerated of any criminal wrongdoing. Why?” 

“You were there when I gave my testimony, you tell me.” 

There’s a flash of irritation in Loki’s eyes before his expression goes blank. “I had just attacked your planet, the city you reside in. I came into your home, destroyed it, yet you defended me from the soldier who sought his revenge, you pleaded my case as the rest of the world looked on with disgust at the both of us. Why?”

Tony shrugs, nonchalant in a way only years of practice can allow. “Not the first time the world looked at me with disgust, won’t be the last.” 

This time, Loki doesn’t bother to hide his frustration. “You are purposely avoiding my question,” he all but snarls. “I want the truth. No one, not even Thor saw that I was—” He cuts himself off with a grimace. Quieter, he says, “When I was captured, it was understood by all that I solely was responsible for the Chitauri and the destruction wrought, or so it was made clear to me. Imagine my surprise when I learned that I had obtained counsel at no cost to me or Asgard, at which I was then taken from my cell to stand trial, to which I presumed my execution was the sole outcome. Instead, you led the charge in pleading on my behalf. The members of your team that previously wanted me dead, testified in my defense.”

It seems to have cost him to admit so much, further still when he says, “I just wish to understand.” 

“You were under control,” Tony says, as gently as he can. “Or as close to it as I can understand is possible. It wasn’t just influence from the scepter, I saw what that did to us, and it wasn’t that.” He shrugs. “Your eyes were blue, and then they weren’t. Wasn’t hard to figure out.”

Loki shakes his head. “Regardless, you couldn’t have known my role was anything less than fully voluntary.” 

“And?”

“You would have me believe that on this theory alone- with no substantial proof beyond a few grainy photos to back it- that you risked your own reputation and livelihood to free me? That you would risk your life to save mine?” Loki shakes his head. “You’re lying, you must be. There’s something else you’re not telling me, some reason that would justify you undertaking the efforts you have on my behalf.”

“Like what?” Tony challenges, sitting up straighter and preparing to stand, healing leg be damned, if it means he can be on somewhat even footing for this conversation. “You heard my testimony. You were there when we testified in your defense. Believe me, if I knew you’d attacked us willingly, I would have thrown the book at you. Hell, I would have personally made a prison strong enough to keep you prisoner for the rest of your life.”

Loki looks at him strangely for a moment before he looks away, gaze oddly distant. “But you knew I was not willingly attacking,” he murmurs. When he looks back at him, his eyes are suddenly sharp. “How did you know?” 

Well. Shit. 

It’s not the first time he’s spoken without thinking first, almost giving himself away, but it’s the first time someone’s caught on so quickly. And the thing is, he knows better, knows what to say or not to say to avoid suspicion, and yet, here they are. 

Tony exhales, a purposefully annoyed sigh to avoid detection. “As I just got through saying—” 

Loki shakes his head. In one moment, he goes from standing across the room to standing right in front of him. Tony just tilts his head up and meets his eyes, refusing to back down. Hell, refusing to stand up, because he’s made it his entire life without being bullied into giving away the truth about his telepathy, and he’s not about to begin none. (It doesn’t mean he can’t imagine Rhodey and Pepper already yelling at him for having waved away JARVIS’s concern.) “Tell me the truth,” Loki says, voice quiet. 

Tony nearly sasses him, on instinct, but instead, he lets the minute drag out, deciding to wait and see what Loki will do when pressed. When he does nothing, just stands there looking down at him, waiting despite the growing frustration in his eyes, Tony finally tells him, “Your plan was shit.”

“Excuse me?” 

Tony almost smirks at the indignant tone. “You let us capture you in Stuttgart. You could have laid Cap out before I arrived without even working up a sweat, but you chose not to. You were never actually ‘captured’ the entire time we had you in custody. It was all a ruse, because you were never actually trying to win at all, you just wanted to prepare us for what’s out there.” He pauses, just for a moment, and makes the split-second decision to go for the kill. “You wanted to lose, because losing meant you’d be free.”

There’s a single moment of silence, of stillness, where all Loki does is stare forward. Then, he looks away, and Tony knows he’s right. 

They both know he’s right. 

Tony allows himself the freedom to lean back and resettle so he’s resting his leg again instead of preparing to stand up. Loki glares at him the entire time, clearly perturbed by his declaration and even more unsure now than before of what to make of him, but he sits down anyway when Tony gives a sweeping gesture to the rest of the sofa. 

Finally, Loki breaks the silence. “The scepter didn’t influence you.” It’s both a question, and not a question at all. 

Tony raises an eyebrow. “You mean it wasn’t able to control me.” 

“It couldn’t do either.” Loki appears to be studying him. “It should have been able to.” 

He had been wondering about that, too, in the days weeks following the battle, but he’s not about to bring attention to the possibility his reactor is what shielded him from the sceptor’s influence. 

Loki leans closer, eyes sharp. “There’s magic in you.” 

Tony has to force himself to keep still. There’s a retort on the tip of his tongue, a fierce denial, but he knows better. Anything he says will be seen as a challenge, and this is one boundary he doesn’t want to test. 

There’s a spark of realization in Loki’s eyes in the silence. “Your chest piece,” he murmurs, “It shielded you from the scepter.” 

The sudden rush of fear, of being caught, is dizzying as instinct forces him away, as far away as possible before Loki catches his arm and keeps him from moving any further. There’s a sizzle of something at the contact, but it barely registers as Tony hisses, “Get out.” 

“Peace,” Loki says softly, letting go of his arm gently as he slowly raises his hands in the air, a false attempt at unthreatening. “You were the one who saw my truth,” he says equally as soft, when Tony doesn’t move. “You were no more than a mortal out of armor, yet you put yourself between a bullet and I. Nevermind I like would have been fine, you offered me protection little would have. I am indebted to you, Stark, and you alone. I mean you no harm.” 

Tony’s voice is steady, somehow. “I said, get out.” 

Loki holds his gaze, his expression a mixture of curiosity and earnestness before Loki nods. “As you wish,” he says. “Another time, then. I will see you at the next battle.” 

Another time, for what? Tony shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest in an attempt to regain his feeling of security. He notices his mistake when Loki’s eyes follow the movement; containing a wince, he says firmly, “There won’t be another time. I did what was right, simple as that. You think you owe me, that’s your choice, but it’s not how I feel.” He nods at the window, a silent but clear goodbye. 

Loki watches him for a long moment before standing. There’s nothing further said before he disappears in a shimmer of green, but the heat of his gaze sticks with him. 

Tony stays where he is, not looking away from the spot Loki vacated, unsure if he can trust the god is actually gone. 

“Sir?” JARVIS calls gently. “Captain Rogers and the others will be at your location in approximately forty-five seconds.” 

Tony nods absently, his attention drawn to the spot on his arm where Loki’s touch lingers. Only now, removed from the situation, can he recognize what he’d felt at Loki’s touch, light but pleading on his arm. 

Curiosity. 

Not interest in his reactor, or in hurting him. Just…curiosity, innocent and true. 

Tony doesn’t know what to make of that.

Calling Rhodey is, unsurprisingly, the very first thing he does after he manages to convince the Avengers to stand down, firstly, and not say anything to SHIELD, secondly. 

“Why do I have a feeling this is bad news?” Rhodey answers on the third ring. “Is your leg okay? Something on fire? Tony, tell me you’re not flying an unsanctioned, solo mission overseas again.” 

Despite everything, Tony laughs. “No, nothing that drastic, worrywart.” 

“Right…and why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you know me?” 

Rhodey’s voice is careful, like a line of tension waiting to be snapped. “What happened?” 

Tony sighs. “Loki just showed up in my penthouse saying things like how my reactor is what protected me from the sceptor’s control, and how he plans to drop by ‘another time.’”

There’s a single moment of silence. “What?” 

“It’s not actually as bad as all that sounds. I think?” Tony shrugs, even though Rhodey can’t see him. “He thinks he owes me for getting him exonerated, says he’s in my debt, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.” 

“I’ll be there by morning. Non-negotiable.” Rhodey sounds like his mind is made up already, which is never good for Tony’s ability to talk him out of a decision he’s already made. “And before you try to argue, I’ll take family leave. The Air Force can deal.”

“You can’t do that, you just eloped two days ago when I got hurt—”

“I can, and I will. You come first,” Rhodey says firmly. “You start working on an anti-god shield- a way to keep him out. Call it the ‘antichrist;’ I know you want to. I’ll talk to Thor about talking to Loki about how him being in your debt means protecting you, and then—”

“He touched me,” Tony blurts out. 

Rhodey inhales sharply. “He did what?”

“He touched me, my arm. He said my reactor is what shielded me from the scepter. I reacted, gave it away, shouldn’t have reacted, I know, but—”

“It’s your reactor. Of course you reacted, Tones.” 

It’s exactly what Tony needed him to say. The reassurance rushes over him, a balm that Tony remembers in the touch of his embrace on a bad night. 

Tony exhales, steadier. “He grabbed my arm when I tried to move away. Told me that I was the only one who saw his truth, which is why he’s in my debt.” Tony’s quiet. “He said he ‘means me no harm.’” 

“And his thoughts reflected that.” 

“Yeah.” Tony sits down on the edge of his bed and stares down at his arm. “He was curious about me, like he wanted to get to know me. But it wasn’t malicious.” 

Rhodey’s quiet for a moment. “Make the antichrist anyway.” 

Tony laughs. It’s more genuine this time. “Yeah, I’ve got a plan in mind. Better to, anyway, knowing what else is out there.” 

“Exactly. I’m still going to talk to Thor about Loki, though.” 

“He seems to think Loki can be trusted, said something about repaying a debt being a serious charge on Asgard.” Tony sighs. “I don’t know what to think. I know he got the armor off me when, you know, so I figured he at least gave half a fuck about whether I lived or died, considering I’m his teammate and it’d look bad if I died, or whatnot, and we’ve always known he could leave SHIELD whenever he wanted to, but I didn’t expect him to just appear in the penthouse, not with him talking about my reactor and swearing he’s not a threat to me in the same breath.”

“Just be on your guard and trust your instincts, Tones. And I mean it, I can be there in the morning to help if you need me to.” 

Tony hesitates. “I’ll be okay,” he decides. “Not that I don’t want more Sourpatch Snuggles, but you just ran away from the Air Force on my behalf. I don’t want to put you in hotter water than you’re already in.”

“Worth it for you,” Rhodey declares, and Tony knows he means it. The call ends a few minutes later with Tony promising to call if he needs help on the antichrist, and then he’s all alone again with nothing but JARVIS and Loki’s feelings for company. 

Curiosity. Innocent as it felt, in Tony’s experience, it’s never a good thing when it comes to him. 

Chapter Text

In the medbay, Rogers had sat at the newly-vacated chair from Rhodey at Tony’s side and looked at him with pleading puppy dog eyes that seemed to take his leg wound personally as he apologized for not guiding the battle better and him getting hurt because of it. 

Tony, admittedly, had looked at him in complete confusion while thinking is he for real? before very firmly telling Rogers that it wasn’t his fault and that these sorts of things happen. 

It might have been the wrong thing to say, if the way Rogers’ expression crumbles is any indication, before suddenly rebuilding better and false, Tony’s idiocracy slapping him in the face in the way of Bucky Barnes, his best friend, died because ‘these sorts of things happen’ out in the field, Tony fumbling to awkwardly apologize and promise it wasn’t Rogers’s fault and that he’s okay, really. Which was the first of many conversations he’d fumbled through with the rest of the team, first with Thor who came all wide-eyed and earnest in checking on him and making sure the Asgardian Healer he’d brought down had been able to save his leg, followed by every single Avenger, who apparently decided Tony was somehow worth checking on. 

Loki, obviously, had been marshaled back to SHIELD, but that didn’t stop Barton from telling Tony all about how the god had taken his instructions with surprising few insults and divisiveness to remove his armor and use his magic - Seiðr - to keep the acid from spreading or doing further damage until he’d been able to get actual medical treatment. Which had been a trip and a half to find out, Tony not even knowing whether to focus on that or the fact the entire team had come to visit him in the medbay, as if he was actually considered a part of the team, except—

Well. 

He can’t be. 

In the days following his whole leg injury-Loki appearing in his penthouse to talk to him debacle, the team settles in to some sort of odd routine where they actually use the tower as a place to live instead of treating it like a hotel. Tony knew that was the whole intention from SHIELD when he agreed to house them more permanently after Loki’s trial, but it still comes as a surprise when he learns that Rogers spars with Thor, who talks to the good doctor about the stars, who cooks with Romanoff, who disappears for days on end with Barton… And so on and so forth. Each member connecting with the others, becoming every bit the team Fury hoped they’d be— with one noticeable exception. 

It goes like this:

At Rogers’s request, as well as JARVIS’s needling, Tony risks attending the first of what becomes a new and improving, honest to god routine to have a team dinner whenever everyone’s at the tower. It only takes one misstep — a casual brush of hands with Barton when passing the corn — for Tony to know he made a mistake. 

The weight behind Barton’s straining smile is oddly what he notices first, a dull huh, he’s a better actor than I was giving him credit for crossing his mind before he realizes that the reminder the recent alien attack serves in bringing back the lingering whispers of The Other in his mind isn’t from Loki, or him, but Barton. It’s its own special kind of torture being forced to watch your own hands move and do the exact opposite of what you want to do, to resist with everything you have but still be compelled by the voices in your mind to—

In your mind. 

It’s a hollow reminder of what Tony’s touch telepathy grants him, what it makes him. A monster. 

He makes some excuse about having a business meeting with a caller overseas that he forgot about, and makes his exit to the upstart of a new conversation. It’s not hard, after that, to plan business meetings whenever the team has something planned.

Rogers asks him the first few times - six, to be exact - if he can reschedule his meetings so he can make dinner with them. “We want you there,” he had even insisted, behind earnest eyes but a smile that seemed strained. “You’re a part of the team- we want to get to know you too.”

Banner asks too, twice, before seeming to accept that silent boundary Tony’s placed. 

After that, no one asks if he’s free before planning dinner or the newly-begun movie night. 

The ghosts of laughter haunt him as he walks past the others, headed for the stairs that will take him to his workshop. 

In the solitude of the shop, Tony privately wonders if maybe the Tony Stark, Not Recommended came because he can’t spare to let anyone in his personal space. 

It doesn’t make for a team player, after all. 

It’s for the best. 

Tony is bent over the newest version of his armor when the hiss of the doors sliding open comes, followed shortly by a quiet, “That’s new.”

Tony lifts his head in surprise, looking up at the doctor as he approaches. “The armor? Yeah, I had an upgrade to make.” 

“Seems like a new one every week,” Banner comments, coming to a stop across from him at the workbench. 

“Just because something works, doesn’t mean it can’t be improved,” Tony answers cautiously. He takes in the doctor’s uneasy demeanor before asking, carefully, “Is there something you need? An upgrade to the stretch pants I made, or-”

“No, nothing like that,” Dr. Banner’s quick to reassure. He flushes, looking around, before his gaze falls back on the armor Tony’s hands-deep in. “It’s just, uh.” He pauses. “I didn’t take you as the outcast of the team,” he blurts. “Thought that’d be me.”

Tony, caught on the surprise in his tone, straightens. “I am the only non-member of the team,” he points out. He’s standing on the very ledge he’s been trying to avoid; he needs to play this right. “Consultant status only, or did no one tell you? I’m more of the-” He waves his free hand around at his workshop. “I’m the upgrade guy. Occasional player on the field. But mainly, the person who fixes whatever is broken.” 

“The mechanic,” the doctor murmurs. He takes a step back and scrubs a hand across his face, swaying closer. For a moment, Tony thinks he’s going to reach for him, but the doctor pulls his hands back and wraps his arms around himself. A self-defense mechanism Tony recognizes from doing it all-too-often himself. “When we met…” 

He doesn’t continue. 

Tony can hazard a guess to what he’s thinking. “You think I didn’t mean it. I did.” 

“You’ve made the most attempt out of everyone to stay away.”

“Not from you- it’s not you.” Tony can see the hesitancy growing and sighs. “I’ve been keeping my distance from everyone; it’s not exactly hard to tell at this point.”

“We’re not the time bomb I thought we’d be. We’re not bad.” 

“I know,” Tony says quietly. 

“But you don’t want to be on the team.” The doctor steps back, his posture tightening. “Because of-”

“No,” Tony interrupts, hard. More forceful than he meant to be, but— “It’s not you, don’t think that. This has everything to do with me and the fact that I don’t belong.” He gives a wry smile. “Tony Stark, Not Recommended, after all. I’m just making sure the team works the way it’s meant to.”

“You mean the way you think is best.” It’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t know much, but I know enough to know that wasn’t who you are, not really, at least. I’d like to get the chance to know you, the real you, and I know the others do too. It’s not so bad, being on this team, and there’s a place for you if you want it.”

Tony shakes his head. “Trust me, this is the way it’s meant to be. If I tried to insert myself-” He shakes his head again. “Like you said, I’m the outcast.”

Dr. Banner looks sorrowful, but there’s empathy in his eyes as he nods his silent acceptance. “I’m making dinner tonight,” he says softly. “I’ll leave a plate for you in the fridge.” 

The doctor is nearly at the door when Tony stops him with a sigh and a quiet call of his name. He deserves a better explanation than Tony’s given, but he can’t share the truth behind his distance. So, he offers all that he can. “You’re the only one who can come in without permission,” he calls across the distance between them. 

Dr. Banner stops in the doorway, turning back to face him. There’s confusion in his eyes. “What?”

Tony clears his throat, meets his eyes. “The others- they need permission. JARVIS or I have to let them inside. They can’t just scan their hand and enter their password and come in.”

“But I can,” the doctor says softly. 

Tony nods, silent. Hoping it’s enough. 

A small smile forms on Dr. Banner’s face as he absorbs that information. “Thank you,” he says quietly, his posture finally easing. “Call me Bruce?”

Despite the distance he’s insistent upon, and the fact that agreeing weakens that very distance, Tony nods. “If you’ll call me Tony,” he agrees. 

Bruce gives him a small nod. “See you around, Tony.” He leaves without saying anything else, but nothing further is needed. 

It might, Tony realizes later as he’s reheating the food Bruce left for him in the fridge, just mean he has a friend on the Avengers. 

Chapter Text

From the moment the Avengers moved in to the Tower, Tony has been bracing for the inevitability of someone saying something about his aversion to touch. It’s not like he goes out of his way to hide it, after all— he makes it a point to make it clear he doesn’t like to be handed things or sit too close to someone, and he downright refuses to attend any training sessions where sparring may be necessary—

So from the very beginning, Tony has known that the day will come where someone on the team will demand to know what’s wrong with him. It’s inevitable, really, because with the exception of Rhodey, everyone has always asked. 

But as the days go by, nothing happens except the lingering, considering glances, the ghosts of whispered conversations as he rounds the corner. 

And then JARVIS stops him as he’s approaching the communal kitchen one afternoon to ask if he’d prefer to make his coffee on his floor. 

“JARVIS?” Tony asks cautiously, wondering if the newest iteration of his armor is up for testing in a potential combat situation. “What is it?”

There’s a moment of silence- too long - before JARVIS answers. “Agents Romanoff and Barton are deep in conversation in the kitchen, and I believe it best you not interrupt.” 

His words feel like ice dumped over him, as brutal and unwanted as the water boarding he’d experienced in Afghanistan. “You mean about me,” Tony realizes, already backing up. “Show me.”

“I do not think-”

“Show me,” Tony says again, forcefully. “If it’s about me, I have every right to- I need to know what they know. What they suspect.” 

“Very well.” JARVIS sounds unhappy but the audio stream cuts into his comm as Tony beelines it back to his workshop. They’re speaking in Russian, but Tony doesn’t break stride as he rushes to the stairs. 

“You think he’s dangerous.”

“I think he’s hiding something.” 

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not in this case. If he was mindlessly creating, he has the potential to wipe us all out without anyone seeing it coming, you know that. But you’ve seen the upgrades to his armor- he isn’t sleeping. Everything he’s doing to his armor, he’s perfecting. Whatever he saw up there, he’s terrified of it. He’s trying to prepare for what’s coming.”

“Mute,” Tony rasps, collapsing against the wall in the stairwell. So close to his workshop, to where it’s safe, but he, he can’t- 

“Sir-”

Tony shakes his head, starting to wheeze as he slides down the wall and folds in on himself, arms wrapped around himself as he gasps for air. Images of the Chituari and what lies beyond haunts him, taunts him as he tries to regain control of his breathing. 

“Sir,” JARVIS says again, louder. Sharper, like he’s-

A hand appears in his peripheral and Tony flinches, reaching for the prototype in his suit jacket before a firm hand takes hold of his, stopping him before he can fight. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Rogers says, his words coming halted and delayed as Tony tries to focus on him. 

The hand on his tears his focus sideways, half his mind set with panic and burning hotter with Rogers’s anxiety - he’s panicking, PTS, just like when I dream of the plane going down and I wake up in ice - equally at odds with JARVIS’s attempts to calm him and Rogers’s underlying empathy pushing understanding and kindness. 

It’s too much. 

Too much at once, too much altogether, and Tony doesn’t realize he’s fighting to get away until Rogers releases his hand and touches his shoulder instead, hand over his jacket as he offers mindless words of comfort. That- it’s easier, it’s better, but still—

Thanos has an army. 

“Tony.” It takes him longer than he’s comfortable admitting to realize Rogers is sitting on the stairs in front of him, hand still on his shoulder, voice low and even as he calls his name. “Hi, there you go,” Rogers murmurs. His eyes are warm when Tony manages to look up at him. “You’re okay,” he says softly. “It’s safe here.”

Tony just nods his head, heaving a rasping attempt of a deep breath as he tips his head back and counts his breathing out to the sound of Rogers’s exaggerated breathing on his behalf. 

Rogers continues quiet murmurs of comfort, reassurances of his safety and that he’s not alone, until finally, Tony slumps against the wall, breath returned but energy gone. 

He feels wrecked. 

He probably looks it too. 

“You okay?” Rogers asks softly in the silence between them. “That looked rough.” 

“Yeah, something-” Tony has to stop to clear his throat. “Something like that.”

Rogers gives him what can only be described as a sad smile. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not if I want to avoid a repeat performance.” Tony hears the edge in his voice and sighs. “It won’t help. But, thanks.”

“Sure.” Rogers’s eyes are still so damn earnest and warm as they sit together in silence for several minutes. Just as Tony thinks he might be able to escape talking about it, Rogers says, “I have them too.”

Tony looks back at him, judging the olive branch that’s clearly being extended. He can’t think of a way to acknowledge it without somehow bringing up what he now knows from Rogers’s touch, so he offers the only thing he can think of instead. “I’m sorry.” 

Rogers shrugs. “Not much I can do about it, or that anyone can do about it, really. Just have to get through it, I guess.” 

“Going through it is a bitch.”

Rogers laughs a little. “Yeah, I won’t argue with that. Kinda lonely, at times.” He gives Tony a pointed look when he says this, which is the only warning Tony has that this has taken a wrong turn before he says, “That’s why, isn’t it, why you keep your distance. Because you don’t want anyone to know you’re struggling.” 

Tony hopes his expression is as blank as he wants it to be because otherwise, he’s screwed. “My entire life has been lived in the spotlight, including my worst moments. This is something I don’t want getting out.” Which is true, of course, but it’s not the whole truth either. 

“No one on the team would say anything. Out of everyone, we’d probably get it most.”

Tony sighs. “Maybe. I’ll even agree it’s not likely to leave the building if I tell the others.”

“But?”

“I can't risk it.” Tony gives Rogers his own sad smile. “Alone protects. Anything else is a risk for me. That’s just how it’s always been.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that.” 

But that’s all he’s even known, with the exception of Jarvis and Ana, Rhodey, and Pepper. Aunt Peggy, even if they've never specifically talked about it or acknowledged that he knows she knows what he is. But. Pretty much everyone else has become a threat at some point or another, or him to them. This is just the way it has to be, and he knows that. 

Which leaves him with no response to give. 

“You could always try one of our team dinners again,” Rogers suggests softly. “Or, we’re thinking about another movie night; Clint says he has some classics that Thor and I ‘need’ to see or else we’re “uncultured.” 

“He’s probably not wrong there,” Tony concedes. “You’ve missed a lot, and Thor’s new to it all. You should get a crash-course introduction on all the ways the world works now.” 

Rogers’s smile turns bittersweet, borderline etched with a pain of loss Tony only has glimpses of. “Brooklyn isn’t the same as I remember it,” he admits. “Nothing is. I took the plane down expecting that to be it, and somehow woke up seventy years in the future, in a world removed from my own.” I don’t know how to find my way in it, if there even is a place for me. 

“You don’t find it,” Tony tells him, “You make it.”

“What?” Rogers frowns.

“Your place, your family.” Tony shrugs. “You don’t find it, you make it. A lot of it is guesswork, complete with a side of loss and another side of life. Somewhere along the way, you find yourself making your own path and building the family you’re looking for.” 

Rogers looks away at the end of his words, but Tony catches the glimpse of tears in his eyes, can feel the ache of love deep in his chest at the echo of his mother’s words and the loss that comes from thinking about—

Oh, no. 

Tony looks down, finding that sometime between the end of his panic attack and the beginning of their conversation, Rogers slipped his hand down to his wrist instead of his shoulder. His wrist, where his sleeve ends. 

His exposed wrist, meaning, he’s unknowingly been reading Rogers’s thoughts and emotions this entire time. Or, at least, from the moment they began talking about panic attacks and chosen family. 

“Tony?” Rogers asks carefully, the caution in his voice a far cry away from the concern in his touch. Fuck. “You okay? You’ve gone pale again.” 

“I’m fine,” Tony rasps, pulling away. The loss of touch leaves him feeling like he’s floating with abandon through space again, hoping to drift back to earth, which— no. “I’m fine,” he repeats, somehow managing to stumble to his feet without making contact with Rogers again. “I need to- I’ve got to go. Meeting, ten minutes with a client. Pepper’ll kill me if I’m late again this week.” 

“Right.” Rogers’s smile looks wrong, a fake template of being fine when Tony knows a fraction of the loneliness behind his eyes. “I’ll uh, I’ll see you later, then.” The awkwardness in the attempt of a farewell is enough to make Tony feel like that ass that he is, which is probably why he blurts out, “Thank you.” 

Rogers looks up at him, surprise in his eyes. “You don’t-”

“You helped me. I do,” Tony says firmly. “Not many people would, but you did. I appreciate it, so, thank you.”

Rogers just shrugs his thanks away. “Like I said, I get it. Wasn’t going to leave you when I’ve been there before too.” 

Hold on a sec- he was headed down to his workshop. Which means Rogers was too. “Was there something you needed from me?” Tony asks, frowning. “Your suit upgrade alright? I’ve got an idea for an improvement in mind, so I can bump that to the top of the list if-”

“No, nothing like that.” Rogers interrupts, shaking his head. “I was just coming to- well, I wanted to-” He stops, looking away briefly. “It’s not important anymore,” he finally says. “It can wait.”

“You sure?” 

Rogers nods. “Yeah, it’ll keep.” He takes a step back, gesturing to the stairs leading back upstairs. “I’ll get back to it, then— see you at our tactical training on Thursday?” 

Tony nods his agreement silently, watching as Rogers turns and jogs up the stairs away from him. It’s only after the door has closed behind him that he slumps, turning to head back down to his workshop. 

“I believe, Sir,” JARVIS says over his comm, “that Capt. Rogers may be trying to get to know you.”

“He’s lonely,” Tony mutters as he scans into his shop. “Can’t say I blame him.”

“And he’s attempting to build a connection with you,” JARVIS points out. “Perhaps, looking to build a family that includes you as part of it.” 

His words leave Tony ice-cold. “You know why-”

“I do, just as I also know that Col. Rhodes, Miss Potts, and Mr. Hogan have all proven to be worthy members of your family, and you as theirs. Why not offer the same chance you did to them, to the members of your team?” 

Tony shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“If they find out what I am and don’t accept me, I won’t be able to give them upgrades to their armor or tech. I won’t be able to fight with them. I won’t-” Tony’s voice hitches. “You know what’s out there, J. If my secret gets found out, I can’t protect them. I won’t be able to protect anyone. I can’t risk that.” 

“And what if they were to accept you?”

“In the movies, I’m someone they fight, not someone they fight alongside. In the history books, I’m the person people run away from, kill, or dissect. If they knew what I was…” Tony shakes his head. “I’d never be seen as more than the newest big-bad they need to put down.” 

“Sir-”

“Leave it alone, J.”

The conversation ends there. 

Chapter Text

“You think he’s dangerous.”

“I think he’s hiding something.” 

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not in this case. If he was mindlessly creating, he has the potential to wipe us all out without anyone seeing it coming, you know that. But you’ve seen the upgrades to his armor- he isn’t sleeping. Everything he’s doing to his armor, he’s perfecting. Whatever he saw up there, he’s terrified of it. He’s trying to prepare for what’s coming.”

It’s Barton who asks for permission to enter his workshop next. Unsurprising, really, which is why Tony surprises them both by letting him scan in. “You know, I’ve been down here enough times to go over arrow updates and stuff, but I feel like there’s always something new down here the next time I’m here,” Barton remarks, wide eyes taking in the assortment of projects scattered across the workshop. “Not sure I’ll ever see it all.” 

“Probably not,” Tony agrees, tapping Dum-E’s arm to call their session to a close for a bit as Barton continues his wide-eyed-kid-on-Christmas-look around his shop. “Speaking of updates, something I can do you for?” 

“Only if you’ve figured out time travel and I don’t know about it.” Barton gives him a wry smile. “I feel like there’s gotta be some truth to the movies, right?” 

“Time travel…you trying to get back with the one who got away? Fix a mission that went bad? Join Broadway?” Tony leans back a little, offering the agent a smile that means nothing. There’s only one way this is going, after all, and they both know it. 

Barton doesn’t spare him the same blank glance, instead, his expression turns serious as he locates and pulls over a stool to sit on. “I figure you know already about Nat and I’s conversation about the invasion, so I’ll spare you any bullshit by pretending otherwise. Listen, I had Loki in my head. Bag of crazy, tortured victim, both, but I wanted to hate him as much as anybody for New York. Didn’t even remember at first that I’d seen his mask drop until the concussion was gone, but I told myself I was projecting, or crazy myself, because I didn’t want to think about the alternative. That something else was out there, something worse, something that controlled him and wanted Earth under its thumb. I know you saw it though, when you got rid of that nuke  - I’m not going to push for information or anything, don’t worry - but if we can’t go back in time and change it, then I want to help you stop it from happening again.” 

“And I’m supposed to believe this has nothing to do with SHIELD wanting to learn more about my suits? What I’m capable of?” Tony cuts Barton off before he can say anything. “I’m not insinuating you’re stupid enough to talk SHIELD business where JARVIS is watching, or that you think I haven’t already checked SHIELD’s records for another assessment on me. I’m saying you wanted me to hear because you knew I’d find nothing in SHIELD’s drives, because saying the thing presents you with the opportunity to be ‘honest’ with me and see where I lead you.

“Not a bad idea, actually,” Tony admits, “but it’s a game I’m not willing to play. The workshop is the one place I can’t compromise. I don’t care if SHIELD wants to steal my suits for parts, or corrupt them for weapons, or straight up put me down. I can’t risk it. Not again.” 

Barton doesn’t say anything right away. “You weren’t there the day I gave my testimony,” he says quietly. “Did you ever catch the video?” 

“Enough that it features in my nightmares,” Tony says, because he figures that’s a safe enough thing to admit. “Half the universe, gone. Earth controlled until then to stop us from overproducing. You heard the plan, I saw the army.” 

Barton nods, but it seems halfhearted at most. “I didn’t just hear it,” he admits, gaze trained on the ground. Distant, lost in a memory. “I felt it. Loki’s desperation, which now I know was more desperation to get free and stop them, than active participation in controlling Earth…but I felt that complete disregard for life. It was like-” He stops, his gaze distant across the room, as if he’s trying to find the right words. 

Or like he’s lost in the memory. 

Tony’s not sure, suddenly, if anyone has heard this story outside of Fury and Romanoff. 

“Deep down, I was aware of every single damn thing going on. But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop myself, couldn’t stop Loki— It took everything I had to miss when I shot at Hill, enough to keep her back but not a shot to kill, but if you asked me not to shoot you, if Nat had stood in front of me and begged me to spare her because I knew her and she was my friend…” Barton doesn’t finish. 

Tony doesn’t need him to. Somewhere, the line between ploy and reality has been blurred, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Finally, he asks, “Why tell me?”

Barton gives him a wry smile. “Because no one else is really going to understand, so it’s either I tell you, or I tell Loki. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder waiting for someone else to get in my head, or for Earth to come crashing down around me. So if I can help you keep that shit from happening again, then I want to.” 

Years of practice keeps Tony from cringing at his words. Waiting for someone else to get in my head. It’s more than fair, given everything, and it even has nothing to do with telepathy, but damn, if another reminder of how he’s a monster doesn’t fucking hurt. 

“All I’m doing,” Tony says carefully, evenly, in response, “is helping level the playing fields a bit if or when something worse comes. Right now, creating updates to my suits is all I can think of to keep us safe. Starting with making it so my armor won’t dissolve onto my leg with the next acid-spewing lizards from space we encounter.”

Barton shakes his head at the reminder, a slight grimace on his face. “For your sake, I hope the science sciences. Any chance you've got a plan in the works so I don’t run out of arrows or Nat doesn’t run out of widow bites? Love to make sure nothing from that clusterfuck ever happens again.”

“Yeah, you and me both.” Tony scrubs a tired hand down his face. “I’m working on it, but I can’t promise anything, at least, not any time soon. Updates, yes. Solutions? Not soon enough.” It’s the last thing he wants to admit, but maybe it’s enough to get the agent-spies to stop asking questions. 

It’s some kind of irony that, of course, Barton asks a question. It also happens to be the very last thing Tony expects him to say, soft, and maybe even gentle: “You know you don’t have to do this on your own, right?” He leaves it at that, but he’s already said too much. And Tony has absolutely no idea how to respond. 

“I’m the mechanic,” Tony decides on, because if nothing else, it’s a safe answer. “This is what I do.” 

Barton considers him. “Doesn’t have to be the only thing you do,” he ventures, giving him a look Tony can’t even begin to interpret. He doesn’t say anything as he stands, pausing to give Dum-E a parting pat on the arm before he leaves the workshop without a single look back. 

Tony watches the doors close after him and sighs, pointedly ignoring JARVIS when the AI tries to agree with Barton’s request that he “come up for air now and then.” 

What JARVIS refuses to understand is that he’s only part of the Avengers because he’s useful, not because he’s wanted. To believe otherwise is something Tony steadfast refuses to let himself give in to.  

There’s no point in hoping for the impossible, after all. 

“Run that one by me again, because there’s no way you just tried to order me-”

“I did, and I am.” Fury crosses his arms across his chest and raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s for your own good.” 

“Oh, right. Sure. Now, where have I heard that one before? Oh, yeah, that’s right, from every person who’s not had my best interests in mind. What do you mean, you’re ordering me to participate? Last I checked it was ‘Tony Stark Not Recommended,’ not—”

“This is why all your nannies left in tears before the Jarvises,” Fury declares, as if that’s his secret to reveal to whatever little device Tony’s watch jammed the second he entered the office. “Except for Banner, who, for good reason, will never come within ten miles of this place, and Thor, who only came here once to visit baby brother down the hall before he got sent away in the middle of a yelling match that could have brought the whole building down—”

“What?”

“Fight of the decade,” Fury declares, brushing it aside with a nonchalant wave before leveling Tony with a glare that says he knows exactly what he’s trying to do. “Point is, everyone else has been in trekking into my office like it’s their own personal home office to whine concern about their recluse teammate who refuses team dinners and little movie nights like he expects to get stabbed in the elevator on the way down, and I’ve heard one to many ‘concerns’ from Rogers to suffer through another one. He’s your problem now, so happy fighting.” 

“So, I’m busy helping run a multi-billion dollar company and take care of the Avengers, when I’m not fighting alongside them, and just because I miss a few team dinners and ‘little movie nights,’ I’m getting sent to team training sessions? What is this, high school detention?” 

“You can call it that. God knows you could have used some of it in that fancy-ass private boarding school of yours. And it’s not just you, Loki’s going too. Gotta walk the walk to talk the talk, and the ICC was serious about the reparations thing. Not saying to make friends with the guy, but he’s gotta attend training sessions just like the rest of you. No more getting your leg nearly melted off or running out of arrows, you hear me?” 

Tony salutes him, lazily, because that’s apparently all he can do. 

Training sessions. Hand-to-hand combat. 

Yep, he’s royally fucked. 

Chapter Text

Pepper stretches her arms over her head and yawns before going back to the contract she’s reviewing, her thoughts an unhurried current of indifference for the fact she’s finding out that Tony has to go spar with the Avengers in an hour. Actually, if JARVIS’s intel is correct, then he’s sparring with Thor because it’s a ‘partner training day,’ which Tony still can’t decide is a good thing or a really, really bad thing. 

Thor, out of everyone. 

Seriously. “I get you’re getting a massage, but would it hurt for you to have a little concern?” Tony half-complains, half-demands as he flicks her ankle. “Me. Sparring. Thor. Hello?”

“I’m sure you’ll be in the suit.” Pepper swipes to the next page of her contract. “Unless Captain Rogers is as smart as they say he is, in which case, I think learning how to think your way out of a fight with a demigod could be useful.” 

“The problem is that he’s smarter than what they say, so I won’t be in the suit while Agent Rushman gets a front row seat to watch my reactions every time Thor thinks something!” Tony glares at the intel that’s still up on his tablet. “You sure you can’t find some last-minute important meeting for me to fuck off to on the other side of the world?” 

“Natasha,” Pepper says pointedly, “and no. I understand why you’re concerned, I do. But you’re a part of a team, Tony, and that means letting them get to know you too.” 

“Because nothing could go wrong if they learn I’m a telepath.” Tony pulls his hands away to gesture at the ridiculousness of it all. “It’s one thing to learn what my favorite movie is, or what my favorite snack is. But hand to hand combat…Promise me you’ll break me out before they try to dissect me?”

Pepper uses her foot to tap his leg, forcing him to stop his spiraling and look at her. “You know we’d never let anything happen to you,” she says seriously. If it were anyone else, the fierce protectiveness would feel like a threat of the worst kind, but it’s Pepper, so it only feels like the love that it is. “From what you told me, it’s mandatory that you go, not that you stay the entire time. JARVIS and I have already put together a plan to pull you out early if we need to. Happy’ll be watching through JARVIS to initiate the exit plan if you need it.” 

“You could just initiate it now and spare me the headache,” Tony mumbles, but he knows they won’t. Can’t, not when it’ll make him seem more suspicious than he already does. Pepper's thoughts indicate the same frustration, even though she’s also way more optimistic than he is that it won’t turn into a massive clusterfuck. 

Tony can only hope she’s right.

As it turns out, knowing what’s coming doesn’t make it any better when Rogers thanks both him and Loki for attending - as if either of them had any say in it - and then introduces the plan for partnered sparring. “We’ll be in random groups of two,” he explains, which Tony is hard-pressed to believe when he immediately begins by putting Loki with Barton and himself with Bruce. Just as JARVIS had warned him, he’s partnered with Thor with Romanoff sitting on the sidelines to “take notes on areas for improvement or strength.” 

It’s bad enough they’re in SHIELD headquarters for this training - a strategic plan on SHIELD’s part to make sure there’s a ‘Hulk-secure’ (highly doubtful) and ‘Loki-secure’ (Tony’s not sure they’re capable of such a thing, even with the limits to Loki’s Seiðr) room just down the hall - but then to have the only person who’s without a partner be SHIELD’s best agent/spy is really just making Tony so much more enthused about the whole idea. 

Not that he didn’t know it was coming, but still. 

And really, could they have at least tried to be a little less obvious with the whole sparring-partners thing? Loki and Barton, really? Starting off strong with the whole facing-the-past thing right off the bat, though Tony’s 99.8% sure if he were to touch both of them, he’d find Loki is more nervous about the whole thing than Barton is, even if both of them seem physically unphased by this development. 

Anyway. It’s no secret the good doctor made Rogers uneasy right from the beginning, so that’s another pairing that makes sense, especially considering how it leaves the most untrained mortal - yeah, yeah, he’s game enough to admit it - against the supernatural demigod from another realm, all while Romanoff gets a front row seat to assess it all. 

“Iron Man, you paying attention?” Rogers calls from the front, looking somewhere between exasperated and expectant already. Lovely. 

Lucky for him, Tony’s always been good at multitasking. Usually. “Hand-to-hand, no broken bones, trying to figure out good partnerships and weak spots,” Tony parrots back without missing a beat, smirking when both Barton and Romanoff roll their eyes. “No lightning, Seiðr, or Iron Man tech. I assume your shield is included on that list, and I doubt our good doctor will throw a punch because he’s the best of us.” Tony winks at Bruce and earns himself a slightly flustered look in response. 

“And one more thing.” Rogers nods at him. “We’ll be doing ten one-minute rounds before we break for review, take a 10-minute breather, and move on to the next exercise.” 

Oh Fucking Boy. 

Tony gives Thor a false grin and follows him to their respective corner of the training room, tapping on the device in his watch as they go. Thor has a concerned air about him as Tony sets his water bottle down, one that makes Tony declare brightly, “Interested in a bet for winner? Most wins gets an advantage in the next exercise.” 

“Seems unfair to a mortal such as yourself,” Thor returns, but there’s a gleam in his eye that Tony likes. 

“Only if I lose,” Tony retorts, earning himself a loud laugh. “Scared we’ll tie?”

“A mortal as frail as yourself, I have no need to be.” Thor pats him on the back heartily, almost sending Tony pitching forward. “I look forward to beating you.”

Tony, despite himself, lights up at the challenge. There’s only one advantage he has, and that’s being the underdog. With Thor preparing to win, Tony has the perfect opportunity to make him lose. And that begins with him counting them off from three, two— and darting around Thor’s arm to leap onto his back and wrap his arm around Thor’s neck, squeezing tighter as Thor laughs, shifts his weight, and shrugs Tony off of him like he’s a damn piece of paper. 

Tony lands with a thud and a groan, already bruising while Thor chuckles, but it’s short lived when Tony’s device shrills in his ear from where Tony placed it on the side of his neck, sending electricity jolting down his spine as Thor goes to one knee and then to his hands and knees. 

Grinning, Tony shifts to his knees and peels the device off Thor’s neck. “One down, five to go,” he declares, smirking when Thor gapes at him. “I’d get to thinking what my advantage should be in the next exercise, if I were you. I’m thinking a one-minute lead—”

It takes him a moment to realize the rest of the room is quiet. Tony turns enough to see and finds everyone has stopped and is watching them with varying looks of surprise and- well, surprise. And then, “You were bested in under half a minute by a trick.” 

If Tony didn’t know better, he would almost say Loki sounds thrilled. Delighted, at the very least, which definitely turns into joyful amusement when Thor complains from behind him, “How was I supposed to know he had such a plan in mind?” 

“I had to come prepared!” Tony defends, spinning the device in his hand as Thor lumbers to his feet. “And before you say anything, Cap, you never said anything about mild ego bruising, just no broken bones. ‘N its perfectly safe; I adjusted the charge for him before I used it, I swear on my honor as the Eagle Scout I never was.” 

Barton raises an eyebrow at him from across the room. “You carry that thing around with you all the time, or is this something special for training?” 

“That’s a secret,” Tony tells him because he can’t reveal everything, “though I figured it’d help if I was being forced to join the big kids on the playground.” 

“I should have known to be prepared for a trick,” Thor admits ruefully, standing up and coming to stand at Tony’s side. “I have experienced many a prank in my day, and yet I still find myself bested by them.” I hope to one day experience another embarrassment at Loki’s hand, Tony hears him continue, if only he would see me as his brother again. 

Thor removes his hand from where he was patting Tony’s arm in approval of his trick, and Tony’s sorrow disappears with it.

When he glances over, Loki’s expression hasn’t changed at all, which more than anything screams how Thor’s not the only one reminiscing about their past and what once was. 

“Trick or not,” Rogers begins, breaking through Tony’s thoughts and the relative silence of the room, “It’s still a win. Battles aren’t fair, and being able to expect the unexpected and act accordingly is an important skill.” He addresses the room at large next, nodding determinedly. “Let’s continue.” 

Conversation begins again as everyone turns back to their own partner and sparring, until it’s just him and Thor who haven’t begun fighting again. “You’ll use that again, won’t you?” Thor asks, looking weary already. 

Tony grins. “What makes you say that?” 

Thor groans and then ducks as Tony rushes him, their second round off to a quick start. Unsurprisingly, and more importantly, understandably, Thor wins the next two rounds easily and is well on his way to winning the third when Tony gets his perfect opportunity. 

There’s a hoot from across the room as Barton apparently wins his first round, causing a split second where Thor’s attention goes to Loki. That’s all it takes for Tony to twist just enough in his hold to free one arm and slam his hand against Thor’s forearm. I wonder how he was able to best— The device activates and Thor curses, his grasp on Tony already lost as Tony pulls free and smirks triumphantly at him. “Two up,” Tony tells him, quirking an eyebrow at the device to make his point. 

Thor rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he pulls the device off and hands it back. “It was mere luck on your part,” he tells him, already preparing for the next round. 

Tony waves at him to start and is quickly distracted himself when he notices Romanoff glancing between them, Loki, and Barton. He recognizes the look, one where she’s assessing a situation and is coming to a conclusion, which is why he’s expecting it when it quickly turns to an expression of action. 

Of course, he’s only half paying attention to Thor because he’s too busy watching Romanoff signal something to Barton, which is how he very quickly and very painfully ends up forced to one knee in order to keep his arm from breaking. “Okay, okay, I had that one coming,” he admits, tapping out, and promptly drops when Thor lets go of him. 

Fucking ow. Tony gets up slowly, already beginning to feel the aches and pains of their five rounds, which he’s learned from experience can only mean one thing and one thing only: tomorrow’s going to be an ice and tylenol day. 

Thor assesses him. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll be,” Tony agrees. There’s chatter in the background that’s been getting louder for the past minute or so that he’s been tuning out, but it’s clear right off the bat of their sixth round that Thor’s either not able to tune it out as well, or he’s actively listening to whatever is going on. It’s how Tony’s able to duck under his arm and shove him from the side, only half a step, mind, but still. 

Now that he’s on this side of the room, Tony catches a quick glimpse of Barton and Loki circling each other and exchanging what looks to be tense words before Thor pulls him in by the shirt. “Hey, rude,” Tony immediately protests, on the defensive, only to get thrown aside as if he’s a fucking paperweight. 

“Uncalled for,” Tony grumbles at him, but it’s all in the name of the game, so he’s not actually bothered. He gets to his feet and goes low when Thor goes high, which is why Thor doesn’t see it coming, half-distracted as he is by whatever terse exchange is going on between Loki and Barton, when Tony smacks the device into his hand. “Gotcha!” Tony cheers, just as Thor clenches his fist and promptly breaks his device. 

Tony’s got a retort on his tongue when a low chuckle sends shivers down his spine, Thor apparently none the wiser to the device he just destroyed as he calls loudly, “Loki!” and leaves Tony behind, striding away and directly for his brother. 

Loki is glowering at Barton and spitting out what Tony belatedly realizes is a bit-off spell, completely at ease to the clown that’s growling (???) as it chortles and lumbers closer to Barton, who stiffens just the slightest as Romanoff’s expression goes hard, all while Thor rushes for Loki with fire in his eyes— 

Tony scrambles and grabs Thor’s arm without thinking, trying to find the words to keep things from escalating into a fight, and it takes everything he has not to stumble at the recall of Barton’s hissed “ I’ll let you apologize when you stop haunting my fucking nightmares” and Thor’s memory of an eight-year-old Loki climbing into his bed and pleading “ I dreamt of death, Thor, make it go away,” mixed with Thor’s sorrow and despair as Barton puts a knife into the eye of the fake clown and immediately charges Loki with said knife— 

Rogers’s shield neatly cuts a line between the two and bounds off the wall to return to his hand, effectively keeping everyone where they are as Rogers storms forward. “That’s enough,” he says firmly, gaze hard as he looks between them. “What part of no attempts to cause serious injury and no Seiðr wasn’t communicated?” 

Neither Barton or Loki look anywhere close to chastised. “The part where you said we’re looking for weaknesses in the team,” Barton says evenly. “I exploited his guilt of the invasion.” 

“I reminded him of the past he tried to leave behind,” Loki retorts. Both of them are glaring daggers at each other, though Loki’s seem to be becoming real.  

Romanoff is looking between both of them as if the pieces of the puzzle are coming together. And then they do, for Tony. “Blame her,” Tony says, nodding his head at her. “She wanted him to antagonize Loki because she thought Thor would react. And he did; he crushed my device because he was angry over what Birdbrain said.” Tony gives them both a pointed look that it’s their fault he’s down his advantage in the exercise. 

Thor jolts from next to him, but it’s Loki who responds, sharply. “Centuries of not reacting to a single word breathed by your friends, but a Midgardian tries to antagonize me and you aim to come to my defense?” 

“I wanted to-”

“I wanted you to defend me against your friends, or choose me over them! Wanted, but no more. I can defend myself just fine,” Loki bites out, a sharpness about the lines of his mouth that’s in complete contrast to the pain in his eyes. 

“I want to do better!” Thor speaks over him, ignoring the way Loki’s trying to shut him down, both of them storming closer so they’re only a few inches away from each other as Thor interrupts, “I know I wasn’t the brother you deserved, and I want to do better. You deserve that—”

Loki waves his hand and turns away, an illusion of himself taking his place in the argument with Thor as he strides past them all without a single look back. 

Rogers exhales once the door has slammed closed and says, “Let’s take our break here. We’ll reconvene in ten.” It’s quiet for a moment as everyone holds still, no one apparently knowing what to do, and then Banner exhales, breaking the silence as he heads over to Thor. 

Tony’s personally torn between going to confront Romanoff or just staying in a corner on his own, which is why he does neither of those things and strolls up to the duplicate of Loki that’s still sulking in the middle of the training room. The duplicate (illusion??) tracks Tony with his (it??) eyes, barely moving as Tony comes to a stop in front of him and stares up at him. 

“Stark-” he hears Rogers warn tiredly from the doorway, but Tony ignores him and pokes the duplicate-illusion instead. 

“Physical illusion,” Tony mutters to himself before waving his hand in front of the fake Loki’s face. His eyes follow him with a mixture of nonchalance and genuine surprise that Tony’s privately smug to have earned. “Duplicate? How far away do you have to be to still be able to hear me? I assume there’s a limit to how far you can be from your duplicate and still be able to control it, but it sounds like a lot of energy. This has to be an illusion, right? I can’t imagine you just standing there just like this wherever you went, but then again, if it’s an illusion, I shouldn’t be able to touch it. You? Can illusions be physical, or am I just using the wrong word here?” Tony takes a pause so he can breathe and maybe even give Loki a chance to respond, not that he’s really expecting a response, but still. It’s worth a shot. 

The corners of the fake Loki’s lips upturn into the faintest of smirks. “Illusions can certainly be physical, but it costs the mage a great deal more energy than simply casting the thought in someone’s mind. No, this is more than an illusion but less than a duplicate, and far more fun because of it.” 

“Because it’s hard,” Tony guesses, and Loki nods in agreement. “The clown was an illusion though, which means-” Tony pauses, thinking. “You could cast an illusion-duplicate combo like you’re doing right now and literally be a fly on the wall listening to people’s conversations, couldn’t you?”

Loki pretends to think about it. “It’s a distant possibility,” he agrees, but he smartly confirms nothing. “Is it my turn then to have a question answered? It is only fair, after all, since I allowed yours.” 

Tony smirks. “Let me guess, about the device that took Thor down in less than thirty seconds.” 

“Precisely.” Loki inclines his head towards where Thor is standing. “What was the thought process behind shocking the god of electrical currents?” 

“Wanted to see if I could, in case I ever found myself at the mercy of a god again,” Tony responds without missing a beat. “Played around with some old technology and made a pseudo neurotransmitter that can be charged specifically for its target. ‘Course, now it’s shattered in a million pieces on the floor because someone wanted to see if they could find Thor’s weak spot, so I’m going to have to find a different way to beat him.” 

Loki’s scowl is quickly hidden at the reminder of Thor’s defense and then all but gone entirely as a gleam of interest appears in his eyes. “You have an idea in mind?”

“Honey, I always have more than one trick up my sleeve,” Tony purrs. “Get caught enough times and you learn anything can be used to win a fight if you try hard enough.” 

Loki’s response is cut off by Rogers declaring that their break is over and that they need to reassemble in their partnerships. Tony quirks an eyebrow at Loki, waiting to see if he’s going to dispel the illusion or somehow replace the illusion with himself. He’s pleasantly surprised to find both become true, Loki giving him a parting look Tony’s not sure how to interpret before fading slowly into nothing. A moment later, Tony hears Loki murmur into his ear, “Fascinated by breaking the rules, aren’t you?” 

Tony hides his smile as he turns and finds Loki standing behind him, a faintly amused aura about him. “Because I came up to talk to you? Or because I used tech and got away with it?” 

“I’ll leave that for you to decide.” Loki slides past him with precise ease, ignoring Thor as he comes to a stop back at his training station. Tony watches him curiously as Rogers sends them off back into their pairs to finish the sparring exercise. It occurs to him that Loki had been careful to stay just out of touch, making sure not to touch him, and that’s something Tony’s not used to someone respecting just like that. 

He doesn’t get a chance to think on it further before Thor approaches him and nods him back towards their corner of the training room, apologizing as they go, “I am sorry, Stark, for breaking your device. I should have been more careful, and not let my emotions make me so careless.” 

Tony considers him for a moment. “Apology accepted, so long as you don’t go any easier on me just because I don’t have my device.” 

“I shall do my best.” Thor offers him a smile as they prepare to start again, even though Tony’s hard-pressed to ignore the quick look Thor shoots Loki’s way. He gets maybe three seconds at most before he gets confirmation of Thor’s longing when Thor lands a punch. I’m glad, at least, he had someone care about his Seiðr. The thought fades as quick as it comes, leaving Tony blinking in surprise before he dives to the side to avoid being taken down. 

“Should have gotten water before we started this again,” Tony tells him, winded, before Thor catches the collar of his shirt and holds his fist in front of his face, effectively winning the round. Come on, Tony thinks to himself, beginning to pout, which is as far as he lets that thought go before he drops low, kicks away from Thor, and grabs his water bottle. Two quick taps to the side and he swings the bottle with everything he has, making solid contact with Thor’s leg. 

Thor blinks down at him in a mixture of confusion and surprise, only to stumble back when Tony picks up the now-flattened bottle and holds it up, firing the reactor he built into the cap. 

“Another trick,” Thor laughs, “and technology of your suit, which means…” He holds out his hand, a wicked gleam in his eye that looks very similar to the one Loki had when he mentioned a trick. Somewhere, someone behind them calls out what sounds like a denial or maybe just a warning not to do exactly what they’re doing, but Thor’s too busy finishing his sentence to care, Mjölnir glimmering in his hand. “I believe I am entitled to my own fun.” 

“Is that what you’re calling a fair fight, or your crutch to win?” Tony taunts, smirking when he earns a flash of fire in Thor’s eyes. “And here I was thinking you weren’t afraid of losing to a mortal!” 

Thor laughs, loud and bright, and aims Mjölnir at his chest. Tony throws his arm up and fires his reactor, and the blast from the two hitting each other sends him flying backward even as the electricity washes over him harmlessly. It’s a rough landing, to put it mildly, Tony landing on his side and sliding along the floor before crashing into the wall, but it’s worth it for the way Thor whoops and runs over to his side, laughing gleefully all the way. 

“Not bad, Point Break,” Tony tells him, more smug than hurt, shaking his head to avoid the hand offered to help him up as he gets to his feet only somewhat shakily. Thor’s still grinning and all but bouncing as he proclaims he wants to try again, but they’re quickly stopped by a loud, “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” 

“It’s fine,” Tony denies smoothly, just as Thor exclaims, “Aye, I made sure he wouldn’t be hurt!” 

“You threw him into a wall,” Barton says plainly, but he doesn’t look anywhere near pissed. Tony actually thinks he looks amused. 

“Technically, I slid,” Tony corrects, mimicking zipping his mouth closed when Rogers glares at him. “Come on, you had to have seen this coming! It wouldn’t be a fight without our toys, you know that! Besides, you wanted to identify weak spots, and now you know I can handle the God of Thunder!” 

“I also know that both of you disobeyed direct orders and caused property damage in the process.” Rogers points at the singes on the wall behind where Thor had been standing when their currents hit each other. “It wasn’t clever or fun, it was reckless, and you, Tony, you could have been seriously hurt!” 

“I knew it’d be fine!” Tony protests, only to get steamrolled again, this time by Romanoff. 

“You couldn’t have known that; what if his lightning destabilized your reactor and it exploded in your hand? You assumed your device would be able to withstand his lightning, but if it had become a conductor instead, or if it had been just slightly worse—”

“It does seem dangerous,” Bruce says quietly, and that’s the one that hurts. 

Tony takes a step forward and immediately internalizes the way half the team seems wary of him. “In case you’ve all forgotten, and it kinda feels like you have, I’ve got the title of genius for a reason. Anyone remember when my heart stopped during a certain invasion not too long ago? Just me? Well, our resident God of Thunder prepared a charge of lightning to jolt me back to life in case the vibrations from Hulk’s roar didn’t cut it, and I did the math just in case I ever died on the battlefield again and a jolt of life would be helpful. Thor was right on the money then with his charge to save my life, and apparently, unlike the rest of you, I made the logical jump that he reduced the charge of his lightning before aiming it at me this time around considering the whole lack of armor thing. Seriously, do none of you give Thor the intelligence he’s earned?” 

People at least have the decency to look properly chastised when Tony comes up for air. Of course, that’s when Tony finishes his descent into asshole and really puts the nail into his coffin by turning to Romanoff and saying, “Put this in your report to Fury: The Tony Stark Not Recommended is only 67% on me for being an asshole; the rest is on everyone who sees some shitty, fake piece on me and assumes that’s the real me and doesn’t care to even look past the masks I was born with.” 

There’s a variety of expressions and reactions on people’s faces if Tony would care to look, but he doesn’t want the confirmation that they’re all thinking the same things about him that he is, so he sees himself out. He never planned to stay the entire time, anyway.

Chapter Text

“My own tower, the one I raised from the ground up, and I still get found when I don’t want to be.” Tony speaks to the lights below them, and wishes he were one of them. “Did JARVIS tattle on me?”

“Not to me.” Romanoff takes a careful seat at his side, dangling her legs over the edge. “If it were anyone else, I’d be worried about them sitting on the ledge.” 

“But I don’t have it in me, right?” Tony gives an empty huff of air that can almost be called a laugh. He doesn’t elaborate, even though the rest of his retort is burning on his lips. 

Romanoff nods her head at his wrist. “I figure you have those on for a reason,” she says. She’s kicking her feet just the slightest, and it’s somehow the most human moment Tony’s ever shared with her because of it, even if this is the last conversation he wants to have. 

Which is precisely why he lets the silence linger, seeing no need to bring his own suffering on any sooner. Granted, Romanoff’s a trained spy which means she’s been trained exactly for moments like these where you need to sweat out the enemy and wait for them to crack— 

“I owe you an apology,” Romanoff offers quietly into the awkwardness between them. “One I should have given you months ago, and I didn’t. You were suicidal and I didn’t see it. I saw the masks you were using to keep everyone at arm’s length so it’d be easier for them when you died, and I believed them. You trusted me with Pepper, and I wrote it off as recklessness instead of realizing how bad things were.” 

It wouldn’t have made any difference, Tony wants to say, except maybe I would have seen what Hammer was up to and put a stop to it before so many people were hurt. The extra couple days spent without actively dying would have just been an added bonus. He doesn’t say that, because it won’t help him any. Instead he says, “If you’re trying to tell me the report was wrong, don’t. It’s the fact I know it’s not wrong that bothers me.”

“‘Textbook narcissism.’” Romanoff leaves it at that.

Tony doesn’t shrug, but it’s a near thing. “I don’t even recommend myself for the team.” 

“Not a team player?”

“Something like that.” Tony gives her an empty smile. “Don’t play well with others.”

“Thor enjoyed himself.” 

Tony snorts. “Yeah, him and who else? Nearly gave Cap a coronary, Bruce agreed it was dangerous, and don’t think I didn’t notice how the rest of you were ready to intervene. I’m an unknown variable, and that makes me a liability.” 

Romanoff seems to consider her words carefully. “I think it gives you a different perspective than the rest of us. You may want to do one thing, may think another is expected of you, and then you take the third option anyway. You cut the wire, and I think you see a lot of things we don’t because of it. Take Loki, for example.” 

“…That’s usually where a new sentence begins,” Tony tells her when she lets the silence draw out, earning himself a snort. “What about Loki?”

“No one from SHIELD either noticed or cared to alert us that Loki’s eyes weren’t blue, and Thor didn’t even notice,” she reminds him. “You did. You engaged him during the training when the rest of us were more than fine giving him space. You make unpredictable calls because you want as much information as possible, but you run the math first.” 

“Careful, that almost sounds like a compliment,” Tony warns, but he’s not as bothered as he was before she joined him. 

Romanoff offers him a tiny smirk that Tony almost wants to say seems genuine. “Maybe it is,” she admits. 

Maybe, it’s a start, if only he lets it be. 

The thing is, Tony’s not blind, nor is he stupid. Contrary to popular belief - aka, JARVIS, Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy - he is fully aware that his teammates have been trying to get to know him. It’s the part where they think it’s a good idea that Tony disagrees with. 

Point in case: it’s one thing to sit in the same room as everyone else for a movie night. The worst anyone learns about him is that he likes his popcorn with butter and his favorite movie theater snack is sour candy. Right? 

Wrong. 

The worst anyone learns about him, or would, if Tony were to attend a team movie night, is that he has to sit alone because he can’t afford to risk skin-to-skin touch with anyone. And that he has to have his own popcorn bowl and can’t share with anyone. Would it make him look like a douchebag? Yes, but it would also provide increasing evidence to the fact that he doesn’t do touch. 

See the issue? 

Team dinners, or meals, for that matter, are out and have been out ever since the corn-passing incident with Barton, SHIELD-mandatory sparring gave him insight into way too much about Thor’s thoughts and ended poorly, and pretty much anything else Tony can think of all has the same potential to make him regret his own existence. 

Or, you know, make everyone regret his existence. 

And yet, JARVIS pushes him to get out of his workshop more, Happy tells him about how nice everyone is to him whenever they’re going somewhere for SI, Pepper gets lunch with “Nat” every Wednesday, and Rhodey always asks if he’s “stopped being so antisocial with the team yet” whenever they’re on the phone together. 

Two and a half weeks after the mandated team training sessions, the only one to be mandated so far, Tony’s reminded yet again about how is outcast status is becoming more and more self-imposed when there’s a knock on the glass to his workshop, followed by JARVIS announcing, “Captain Rogers is requesting permission to enter, Sir.” 

“You make it sound so military,” Tony grumbles at him, but he sets his soldering iron down and takes off his goggles and gloves to wave him in. Rogers puts in the code and scans his handprint, stopping just inside the doorway to greet a hyperactive Dum-E who comes rushing over from his game with U to eagerly put his claw in Rogers’s face. 

“Manners,” Tony chastises, but Rogers just laughs and waves it away. 

“It’s okay,” he says, shaking Dum-E’s claw. He looks up at Tony, patting U who has come up to meet him, and offers him a sheepish smile. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says. “I can come back, if you need?”

It’s Tony’s turn to wave off his words. “Nah, it’s all good. What’s up? You need something?” 

There’s that sheepish look again, although it almost seems more shy than embarrassed this time. Tony didn’t even know Captain America could get shy. “You can say no,” Rogers begins, “don’t feel the need to say yes just because, especially if you’re busy. I don’t want to take away from what you’re working on, or make things busier for you with everything you do. It’s not important, anyway, but JARVIS said—”

“Cap.” Tony has to hide a smile at the way Rogers honest to god blinks at him owlishly and then flushes. Flushes! “Just tell me.”

“Right.” Rogers clears his throat. “JARVIS told me you’re the person to talk to about New York and good food. Everything’s changed since I was- well, you know. We didn’t really ever eat out, but there were a few times on special occasions when Ma’d save up for a danish or something special for a birthday. Never anything fancy, just from the local hole-in-the-wall, but it was everything to us.” 

Tony considers him and JARVIS told me you’re the person to talk to as he leans back in his seat. Casually flicking J off out of Rogers’s sight for his interference, he says, “If it’s pastries you’re looking for, I know a place that has donuts, muffins, and croissants fresh every morning. This is the hole-in-the-wall place; no website, no recognizable decor outside for you to know you’re in the right place, it’s standing room only and there’s always a line out the door on the weekend, but if you’re willing to wait in a line for an hour where we may or may not be recognized, we can go on Saturday.” 

It takes Rogers a moment. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d almost think the silence is a prelude to a harsh rejection, except he knows he just shocked Rogers and himself with his suggestion. 

Rogers offers him a small smile that grows as he agrees to meet him at eight on Saturday at the garage. Enthusiastic is not a word Tony thought he’d ever use in a sentence where he and one of his teammates are concerned, but Rogers seems downright gleeful, if not a tad embarrassed by his own reaction, at the thought of not going alone to the cafe. 

The fact he’s reacting so strongly to not having to go alone makes Tony feel like that much more of the asshole he is. Of everyone on the team, he’s probably the one who knows New York best, and probably the one who knows the most about Steve Rogers from the stories he grew up hearing from Howard, Aunt Peggy, and the rest of the Howling Commandos, but he’s also the one who’s gone out of his way to not interact with him, or anyone else, to the point where Rogers is genuinely surprised and enthusiastic about getting a chance to reminisce about some of the best parts of the life he lost. 

As if he’s not gotten the chance to actually talk about the life he left behind, let alone about the people he loved, to anyone. 

No one’s asking you to tell them about your telepathy straight up, Rhodey reminds him, we just want you to give being their teammate a chance. 

Tony exhales roughly and admits, “Peggy was the one who introduced me to Cup of Joe when I was six or seven, maybe. Couple veterans started it after the war, first just as a way to pay the bills and then as a place for vets to come together. It’s become a family business now, last I heard the grandkids of the original owners run it together. They have a vet support group they've been hosting since the 40’s, meets every Tuesday at 7 in the basement. You can just come and go as you want, no questions asked.” Rogers is looking at him when Tony dares peek up to assess for a reaction to his words, a mixture of surprise and longing on his face, but he doesn’t say anything so Tony continues. “Between you and me, the coffee has always been a little bitter, but their muffins are dangerous, especially to one’s diet. Aunt Peg’s go-to is still the blueberry muffin, even after all these years.” 

There’s a moment of silence before Rogers clears his throat. “Aunt Peg?” 

“Godmother,” Tony clarifies. 

Rogers doesn’t seem to know how to process anything he’s just shared. “You- she, you’re the Tony she told me about?” 

“Guilty as charged, though I need it on record that she’s exaggerating on everything except my college days, in which case, she’s underselling it.” Tony winks at him and very studiously ignores the emotion that’s swimming in Rogers’s eyes. “In my defense, I was left completely unsupervised until I met Rhodey. Besides, she helped us get away with our senior prank, so really, half of it’s on her.” 

Rogers gives a broken laugh that sounds more emotional than anything. “You’re her little Tony,” he says in disbelief. “I saw her last week and she was telling me all about you. She adores you.” 

“Yeah, well, it goes both ways.” Tony looks away, suddenly finding the soldering iron interesting. “Don’t know how I got so lucky there anyway, or why she loves me, but she does, and I’m grateful for it. When I was kidnapped by the Ten Rings, she came out of retirement just to help Rhodey bully the government into continuing the search when they were ready to pull the plug.” 

“She never met a fight she would ever back down from,” Rogers agrees. He offers Tony a small smile that Tony’s almost tempted to call genuine. “Especially where her family is concerned.” 

Tony can’t argue that, and he doesn’t know what else to say, which is how he finds himself saying, “So, are we on for Saturday?” 

Rogers’s smile is something to behold when it’s real, and it is now. “We’re on for Saturday,” he confirms. 

It’s a start. 

Chapter Text

It’s a nightmare-filled night that drags Tony, restless and haggard, down to the tower’s private garage where he finds Rogers standing arms folded behind his back, back to him, as he leans over a motorcycle hidden behind his broad frame. 

“You can touch, you know,” Tony calls as he approaches, only to immediately eat those words when he realizes what Rogers is looking at. 

“Didn’t think I’d ever see this again,” Rogers says, voice somewhat hoarse as he reaches out with a trembling hand to touch the handles of the bike. He smooths his hand over the frame, patting the seat before inspecting the custom carrier for a knife built into the mainframe. “A replica, I know, but this close to the one I rode…”

Tony clears his throat. “Howard made it,” he explains. “His way of remembering you, or so he said.” Not like there wasn’t a thousand other ways he remembered you, he doesn’t say, the child in him still jealous of his dad’s affection attention after all these years, but it’s a near thing. He doesn’t have the best filter on a good day, and a day starting off with an endless round of nightmares and zero sleep means his filter is practically nonexistent. 

“I lost mine,” Rogers says. “Destroyed it, actually, rigged it to self-destruct at a HYDRA base, knocked out the main entrance. Didn’t think I’d see it, or a bike like it, again.” 

There’s more of that where it came from, Tony thinks. Aloud, he just gives a noncommittal noise encouraging Rogers to either say more or leave the subject there, because he doesn’t know how to answer without saying something along the lines of Howard had an unhealthy obsession for you that manifested in Captain America memorabilia and a whole room dedicated to you that only ever reminded me how you were his “greatest achievement” while I was his biggest failure. 

Yeah, better he keeps his mouth shut. 

Rogers doesn’t seem to give it any mind, not when his attention is clearly elsewhere, gaze distant as he smiles forlornly down at the bike, his thoughts likely some seventy plus years in the past, back where his life used to be. 

Tony doesn’t need his touch telepathy to be able to hazard a guess at whatever mixture of grief and longing he must be feeling. 

Internally sighing to himself, Tony minds the manners Ana instilled in him to say something and brings himself to ask, “You okay?” 

They both know the answer is far from yes, and Rogers doesn’t do him the disservice of pretending otherwise. “Adjusting has been hard,” he settles on with a half-hearted shrug. “I put the plane down expecting that to be it, and now…”

He doesn’t finish, but Tony didn’t really expect him to. “Now movies are made in color and with sound?” he quips because, really, what else is there to say? It earns him a snort, at least, which is something. The way Rogers is still eyeing the bike under his fingertips, though, almost like he’s afraid it’ll disappear along with whatever else remains of his past if he even blinks, has Tony swallowing past the unease in his throat to awkwardly say, “The bike is yours, if you want it.” 

Rogers’s head snaps up so quickly at his words that it’s a miracle he doesn’t get whiplash. “What?”

“It’s yours,” Tony says again, this time, more sure of himself. “Howard always said one day you’d be found, and, well, it should be yours. Another piece of your past, or something; I know it’s not the same, and I know nothing can make up for what you lost or fill that void, that’s not what I’m trying to do, but. He would have wanted it to be yours.” Tony cringes and hastily adds, “If you even want it, that is. No pressure. If the reminder is too painful, I get it—”

“No!” Rogers clears his throat and takes a half step back, face flushing as he says, “I’d like to keep it. Down here, of course, I wouldn’t bring it upstairs—” He stops in the middle of his sentence, clearly embarrassed, and it dawns on Tony that maybe Rogers is just as awkward and worried about screwing up whatever the hell this conversation is just as much as he is. “Thank you,” Rogers finishes, voice suddenly far softer than it was before. 

“Not necessary,” Tony quickly brushes off. “Besides, and not to ruin the mood here, but uh, you good with taking something else to the cafe? I have this thing, I have to drive, can’t be in a car unless I’m driving it; it’s stupid, but I need to take something else.” 

“Doesn’t sound stupid,” Rogers dismisses, frowning a little, but it doesn’t seem to be at him, which is some kind of miracle all on its own. “I’d rather get to talk anyway, and the bike’s great ‘n all, but I don’t think even seventy years is enough to improve that. You got a car in mind?” 

Good god, Rogers just made a joke. They’re making jokes now. Howard’s probably having a coronary and rolling in his grave. The world might be coming to an end even faster than it usually is. 

Tony’s capable of not overreacting over the fact they’re coexisting, truly, he is. But he can’t hide a half smile as he points to his Aston Martin across the parking lot and, just like that, they’re off. 

They’re pulling into the garage when Rogers suddenly decides to nearly make Tony jerk the steering wheel in surprise by saying, “I’m glad I’m getting to know you, the real you.” 

Seriously, it’s a near thing they don’t go veering into the 1966 Ford Mustang Convertible. “Give a guy some warning before you decide to give him a heart attack,” Tony grumbles, studiously not looking anywhere near Rogers as he carefully steers them into their parking space. “Were you trying to make me crash? You can’t just go around saying things like that!” 

“Why, because I’ll ruin your reputation?” Rogers looks painfully earnest, even serious, as he unbuckles and turns to better face him, not that Tony’s looking, of course. “You’re nothing like the report they gave me.” 

Tony scoffs. “Which part, exactly? Trust me, I’m exactly that guy—”

“When you’re in front of a camera,” Rogers argues just as quick. “You put on a good act, I’ll give you that, good as good gets, even, but that’s not actually you. I saw it, I saw you, when you’re not posing for an audience that only sees what they want to see.” 

Tony’s starting to feel like they actually crashed into his ‘66 Stang, except at 115 miles per hour and with no seat belt on. 

“You told us that we keep judging you like we’re five hundred miles away and reading some smash piece on you from some newspaper,” Rogers continues as if he has no idea what he’s doing to Tony. “You were right to call us out-”

“I didn’t say it like that,” Tony mutters, but Rogers just waves him off. “I’m not wrong, am I? First thing they did when they pulled me in for Loki was give me a report on everyone. The Tony Stark in that file is nothing like the man I saw who recognized Thor’s precision with his lightning or engaged with Loki when he looked ready to murder anyone who even looked at him sideways. Or the man who knew everyone at Cup of Joe by name, who asked about their grandkids and knew things most people wouldn’t care to ask about. 

“I told myself, when you roped me in about Loki being under control, that I wasn’t going to read up on you because the media would just be full of lies and exaggerated half-truths just for the sake of selling a story, but I still didn’t give you a chance, and I’m sorry.” 

There’s a long pause when Rogers is done, eyes painfully earnest like he means every word, while Tony struggles to process I still didn’t give you a chance and I saw you before finally just shrugging awkwardly and saying even more uncomfortably, “It’s fine.” 

“It’s not,” Rogers says firmly, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he says, “I really did like getting to see who you are when you can just be yourself, and I’d like to get to know you more, if you’re okay with it? Not saying you have to join us for the team dinner tonight, if you’re not comfortable with it, but…I’ll see you at the tactics and partner training on Thursday?” 

Man, he really has been only showing his face during required Avengers trainings and nothing else, huh? 

Even in the same building, they’re still living in different worlds. 

Tony sighs to himself. He really was just planning on leaving this whole outing as a one-off, but Rogers sounds so damn nervous yet genuine, like he actually really wants to get to know him more… “I’ll be there,” Tony agrees. Painfully honest and terrifying conversation where he was actually perceived aside, maybe, he can even admit to himself that he had enjoyed himself, just a little. 

Rogers’s answering smile, when it comes, is blinding. 

Of course, it only makes sense that it’s only about half a second later that the Avengers alarm goes off. 

“Never one single quiet moment,” Tony grumbles, exchanging a quick, amused glance with Rogers as they both scramble out of the car and rush for the elevator. “J, where we headed?” 

“Bryant Park.” There’s a clear pause where JARVIS hesitates, making Tony exchange a confused look with Rogers before he says, carefully, “Sir, Dr. Banner is in distress. I believe Hulk is trying to front.” 

“His control is too good to be triggered in a park,” Tony murmurs, shaking his head before Rogers can say anything. “It is. He wouldn’t even be in that park if he thought there was a minuscule chance he could be a threat. J, patch me in to his phone. Make sure I get an answer.” 

“Stark-”

Tony doesn’t even react at the use of Stark, instead, standing straighter to meet Rogers head-on. “You said the real me is someone who knew I could trust Thor with his control and Loki with his anger, right? I’m asking you to give me that chance you didn’t give me before, to trust me with this. If Hulk isn’t on a rampage right now, then it’s because some part of Bruce is stronger than whatever fear or anger he’s fighting. I can talk him down; you bring in the cavalry now and he’ll run, and this time, not even SHIELD will be able to find him.” 

Whatever conflict Rogers has, he seems to resolve by looking at Tony. With a short nod, he gives Tony the approval he wasn’t aware he was hoping for. “Go,” he says, “I’ll hold off SHIELD. Have JARVIS tag us in if you need backup.” 

Tony slumps in relief and calls for JARVIS as he takes off at a sprint towards the opposite end of the garage where the ground-level exit is. JARVIS has the suit waiting for him as soon as he steps half a foot outside, the suit only delaying him a few seconds as it deploys on him from behind until Tony is in the air and already counting down the seconds he has left to come up with part of a plan. 

He doesn’t get very far before he touches down on the far end of the trees and steps out of his suit with a quiet order for JARVIS to lock it down, not bothering to acknowledge his AI’s quiet “Sir, please approach with caution” as Tony sticks his hands in his pockets and begins to whistle, walking Bruce’s way nonchalantly. 

His approach goes mostly unacknowledged and completely unnoticed until he’s already come to a stop, offering a little wave when Bruce lifts his head warily to track the rest of his approach. “T-Tony?” Bruce clears his throat and shakes his head a little, eyes widening slightly as he stares up at him. “What, what are you doing here? How’d you know-”

“SHIELD has a stick up their ass and thought maybe you were in danger of going all green bean on them, so they sounded the alarm.” Tony rolls his eyes and flips off the SHIELD drone trying indiscreetly to get past his Iron Man suit to get a visual of them. “That’s not why I’m here, though. I mean, yes, but I didn’t come because they said you’re a potential threat; I came because JARVIS told me you might need a friend. Point is, SHIELD sucks and J’s a lot less stalkerish with the whole keeping an eye on people thing than it sounds, and I’m getting tired of looking down at you. It’s weird. Can I sit? Yes? You sure? Cool. Anyway-”

“You’re rambling,” Bruce interrupts, but the corners of his mouth are just the slightest bit upturned like maybe he’s amused. Or, at the very least, maybe one percent less close to panicking as he had been when J had sounded the alarm. “Is this your way of trying to distract me? This is a lot of show, even for you.” 

“This is me not knowing how to be a normal friend who shows up in moments like this,” Tony tells him, much to his immediate dismay. “Wow, that makes me sound like an asshole, huh? Really don’t know why Pepper and Rhodey have stuck around as long as they have. Happy too, god, he’s been here since before Pep. Not the point. What I’m trying to say is, I’m not the person people go to when things go wrong. Unless money is an issue, then I’m your guy. Is money an issue?”

Bruce shakes his head, eyes a little wider than they were a second ago. “I think I broke you,” he says in response, and it’s almost a joke. 

Tony snorts anyway, because he can’t not. “I broke myself a long time ago. I don’t really know how to be friends with someone, you know. What do I say in situations like this? You can talk about it, if you want. Did something happen? SHIELD’s not coming, so you don’t have to worry about them. At least, more than you probably already do. Rogers is keeping them busy, so it’s just you and me here, and JARVIS, who has officially successfully gotten rid of SHIELD’s drone.” 

That’s where Tony finally gets control of himself and shuts up, but Bruce doesn’t say anything right away and instead they’re left with a silence that grows. Tony’s halfway to criticizing himself for his complete and utter failure to friend like a normal human being when Bruce slumps, the tension in his shoulders bleeding into exhaustion as he gives a rough sigh and says with more pain in his voice than Tony’s ever heard before, “I’m okay now, I think. Hulk won’t front, I promise.”

“I didn’t think he would,” Tony says cautiously. It’s true, and it’s also not why he came. “Your control is too good.”

“It never feels like enough.” Bruce is beginning to tremble, the slightest tremor to his fingers as he fidgets. He won’t look at him, and that has to be the worst part, that Bruce is scared to look at him in fear of what he’ll see. 

If there’s anything Tony understands, it’s that. 

He’s still searching for something to say when motion catches his attention, Tony lowering his eyes to Bruce’s hands. He’s picking, probably the only thing that feels like it’ll keep him from falling apart - something Tony gets with the sort of familiarity he can feel in his bones - but he doesn’t want that to be all Bruce has. 

He’s been there, and sometimes it’s felt like the pain has been all he’s had, but Tony’ll be damned if he lets Bruce sit in that feeling alone. He reaches for him without conscious thought, waiting until Bruce gives a little tentative nod before he lightly places his hand over Bruce’s and carefully unfurls his fingers. 

Confusion, Tony has learned, can feel anywhere from curiosity to frustration to fear. Bruce’s feels like waiting for the next blow to come and not understanding how or why the touch he’s experiencing is kind. 

Tony swallows the feeling down, down deep until he doesn’t feel like puking anymore, and forces himself to remember the breathing exercise Rhodey taught him when he was sixteen. Bruce doesn’t mirror the deep breath he takes, but he can’t blame him, not when he can feel Bruce’s fear racing through his bones like it’s his own. 

It was his own, once, with Howard. Sometimes, it still creeps back up on him and hits him right when he thinks he’s finally doing better, just how Bruce felt when he heard that man raise his voice and tell his son that he’s a—

Tony grits his teeth and forces himself not to react. Takes a shuddering breath and exhales, forcing himself to fucking get it together. He’s here to help Bruce, not make it worse or, worse, make it about himself because he can’t separate where Bruce’s fear ends and his own past begins. 

“I’m sorry I made you come out,” Bruce says quietly. His face is completely shuttered off, his eyes unwaveringly set on their hands, as if he doesn’t know what to make of it still. Tony isn’t quite sure either, considering he doesn’t usually go around initiating contact with people who aren’t Rhodey or Pepper or Happy. 

Still, though, “You’d come if it were me,” Tony says. He’s not sure how he knows that, but he thinks he does. Maybe leaving leftovers in the fridge for him because he’s too cautious much of a coward to come to the team dinners doesn’t actually mean he’d drop everything and come hold his hands in the middle of a park to make sure he doesn’t continue picking at his skin, but, it seems like a Bruce thing to do. 

Bruce offers him a weak smile, more halfhearted than anything else, but his anxiety isn’t as bad as it was just a second ago, so Tony thinks he must have done something right. It’s a small victory he’ll take, at least. 

“I had JARVIS send a car, if you want to get out of here,” Tony offers. “Doesn’t even have to be to take you to the tower, if you don’t want to. But it’s an option, if you want.” 

Quiet relief makes his shoulders ease tension he wasn’t even aware he was holding as Bruce gives him a tentative yet grateful smile. Tony can feel the way he almost says thank you for not asking, but instead Bruce gives his hand the slightest squeeze before letting go and preparing to stand. 

It means the same thing, Tony thinks. 

Only when Bruce is in the car and Happy is pulling away - way to go, JARVIS, for calling in the one person that could be trusted in this situation - does Rogers check in for the first time. “JARVIS says everything is handled.”

Impressed? Tony almost snarks, but he thinks better of it at the last second. Just this once, maybe he doesn’t need to be so defensive. “All good and headed home,” he says. 

He can almost hear the slightest hint of a smile in Steve’s voice as he confirms.