Where Tony experiences human emotion
Tony was staring.
As he led the team into the Martha Stewart nightmare of a house (seriously, the OCD level of clean paired with the tacky floral wallpaper was gonna leave him traumatized), Tony considered the entirely new sensation in his chest. When he first laid eyes on Harry, it felt like someone had wound a rope around his heart that trailed off toward the kid - moving away from him now made the rope squeeze tighter, as did the panicked, hopeful look in the boy's eyes. Tony was tempted to turn around again to make sure the kid was still there as he moved into the sitting room.
It was such a strange phenomenon, but oddly enough, Tony didn't mind it (which made him freak out, because he's always run from emotions so what was different now? and the irony of fighting off a panic attack triggered by a lack of panic was not lost on him.) He knew what it was to be neglected by a father, and he felt almost relieved at the overwhelming instinct to help and protect that made the rope squeeze even tighter. He'd known before that he would do whatever it took to keep his kid safe, but this felt like more than obligation.
The rope tugged again as Harry idled in the hall for a moment, easing a bit when he stepped just inside the doorframe a few minutes later, even if it was clear he kept them all in his sights and his back to the wall to take in the room. Tony and Loki sat stiffly on a loveseat, both with eyes tracking their son with creeper levels of intensity. Steve was upright and alert in an armchair to Tony's right, focused on Harry as well. His gaze was clearly assessing, though not lacking compassion and a bit of weary sadness. Just past him, Bruce kept taking turns observing Loki, Tony, and the kid, analytical and curious but seemingly removed from the tension in the room. Clint was splayed out in the middle, the picture of careless ease, with Natasha displaying a facade of poised calm on his other side. Both would have seemed content and collected if not for their quick scan of the room and Harry, gathering Intel on what promised to be a complex and potentially dangerous situation. Behind Loki was Thor, alternating between concerned glances to his brother and amazed, curious, excited looks to the kid of the hour. Fury stood glowering between Steve and Bruce, Coulson calm and attentive by his side.
Tony only noted all of that in passing though, as he hungrily cataloged everything he could about his newly discovered son.
The kid clearly came from him and James. He was almost James in miniature, from his curls to his face to his build, with those incredible eyes that matched Loki's now (though if he didn't know better, he'd have said that Lily was represented there). Even the way his eyebrows pulled together a bit in his focus just screamed James Potter. Looking beyond the obvious though, Tony's heart seemed to stutter for a moment, and the rope around his chest tightened again as he noted the parts of Harry he knew from the mirror. Their hair color was almost an exact match, and the kid had his warmer skin tone. He was short, like Tony, lean as well but clearly had some muscle. Hell, the way the kid tapped his foot a bit and constantly bounced his … wand against his thigh reminded Tony of how he himself had never once in his life been able to sit completely still; even now, Tony's fingertips tapped a quick silent rhythm against his thigh. The kid looked like both of them, standing there with a glint in his eye that made him look … not fearless, but determined and almost resigned to defending himself despite being in the literal shadow of gods and heroes.
That's another thing. Tony was not only a genius, he was a genius raised in an emotionally abusive household who'd been dragged to cutthroat high society galas and smarmy business meetings since the age of seven. He had to know how to read people, otherwise he wouldn't have made it. And before Harry could even say anything, Tony's heart was breaking.
Upon seeing him for the first time outside, Tony had only marveled at the existence of his son (and the supremely unexpected surge of what an emotionally unconstipated person might call love) for a moment before his mind raced ahead, painting a distressing picture of Harry's life. Now, in the house, Tony's eyes whipped from the dark shadows under Harry's eyes to the oversized clothes and too short stature to the bruise on his cheek. He noted the way he stood with muscles tensed but not locked up, ready to move at the first sign of trouble. His feet were a bit farther apart than your average person would stand; it wasn't a full fighting stance, more like the kid had an unconscious instinct to brace himself. Harry was obviously sizing them up too, taking the time to thoroughly examine each person before focusing on Tony and especially James. To someone else the gazes might have been merely curious, if wary, but Tony knew a threat assessment when he saw one.
That's not even considering what had happened on the porch. When Tony had stepped forward toward the door, he'd moved his hand up to rest on James' shoulder. His hand had moved quickly, intended to give himself and James a grounding touch at the relief of being allowed inside. Harry, though, had given a sort of aborted flinch at the move, like his instinct was to expect attack and he had to consciously stifle his body's protective reaction.
Now, Tony knew flinches. He knew what it felt like to always be on guard for a hit, knew how hard it was to suppress the urge to get out of the way, knew that the flinches weren't even close to conscious motions. The fact that Harry reacted that way said so much about how he had been treated that Tony got a rush of panic and anger and guilt. The rope wrapped tight in his chest, the one pulling him toward the kid in front of him that so clearly needed help, was probably the only thing holding his heart together. For the kid.
What really broke him, though, was Harry's eyes. When Tony's gaze finally found Harry's, those eyes looked older than they should be in his tense, young face. Harry's calm, calculating mask was impressive for someone so young. In fact, it probably would have fooled anyone except for the geniuses, spies, and soldiers he faced now, though the impact was no less powerful for being able to see past it, because Harry's eyes were too damn expressive to make it completely convincing. Hidden behind the impassive facade was a startling amount of pain and exhaustion and grief, and one tiny, beautiful spark of hope. It's the look of someone who'd had no choice but to get up again to throw another punch after life kept knocking them down to the pavement, someone who had to scratch and kick and struggle for every inch of ground they stood on and didn't fully trust that it wouldn't be ripped back out from under them. Tony knew that look from the goddamn mirror. He hated seeing it there in his son's eyes.
He didn't even know the kid before today, and he'd already failed him. Forced his kid to be alone and grow up into the broken soldier he saw now. Because that's no doubt what he was: a fighter. Fuck, Tony had turned into Howard without even knowing it.
Tony's hands clenched briefly into fists as he felt a flash of resentment for James - if he and Lily hadn't kept Tony's relationship to the kid a secret from him, not to mention everyone else, then Tony would have moved heaven and earth to bring the kid home. He would have made sure he was provided for and protected. But because of Loki's fear, or plans, or (Tony couldn't help but consider) his lack of faith in Tony's ability to be a parent, their son had been forced to become the world weary fighter they faced now. Tony would have had a chance to know his son, be a part of his life.
Whatever James' reasons, Tony should have been able to be there for his kid.
They'd all been staring at each other in silence for a few minutes before Steve spoke up. Tony was almost grateful, because he had never in his life struggled to speak, but apparently today was a day for firsts.
"Hello, Harry. My name is Steve Rogers. I recently started working with your father, Tony."
Harry's eyes flicked to him when he started talking, leaning back slightly with narrowed eyes at the word "father". He was clearly confused and suspicious, but all he said was "Nice to meet you, Captain Rogers" before he fell back into his stiff observation of the room. On hearing Harry's voice, James had tightened his hold on Tony's hand, which Tony returned. It was a new tone, not the burning anger of before, but a clipped sort of politeness, tense but not rude.
Tony couldn't bear this for much longer; now that he'd been broken out of his spiraling thoughts, he needed to hear his son's voice again.
"So, kid, do you have any questions for us? Because I know I've got a shit ton for you."
He ignored Steve's muttered "language" in favor of watching his kid.
It was the first time he had the kid's full attention. Those eyes were so bright and felt like they were shouting in a language he could almost read. The confusion, grief, and hope Tony saw in the kids' eyes was gonna kill him. Harry spoke after a couple moments.
"I'm waiting on some trusted backup. He's bringing something that will force the truth from you."
At that, Fury scowled, Natasha and Clint stiffened and subtly reached for weapons, Steve and Coulson's brows furrowed, and Thor looked a bit surprised. Loki noticed this, and correctly guessed where their minds had gone.
"There is a Midgardian potion that painlessly ensures that the drinker can only speak truths." He turned slightly desperate (and still awed) eyes to his son. "Harry has no intention of harming or torturing anyone, right?"
Harry had a full body reaction at the implication. He leaned back sharply, seeming to unconsciously flex his right hand into a fist while tucking it in his pocket. Tony caught a flash of shiny scar tissue before the hand was hidden away and had a sudden bout of nausea at the sight. Beyond that though, Harry's eyes flashed with anger and pain, and after he caught his instinctive motion, he leaned forward to look James straight in the eye. That feeling of pressure in the air that he'd felt on the porch came back. Magic, Tony thought in a sort of distracted way as he took in the scene in front of him.
"I would never torture a person, for any reason." He seemed to pull himself together for a second, the pressure and scent of ozone receding as he turned to face Steve, correctly identifying their de facto leader. His eyes flicked back to Tony, then James, before settling on Steve again. "Besides, torture is a terrible way to get the truth from someone. I would know."
The room seemed to lose all air for a moment. The only thing Tony was aware of was Harry's searching gaze as he watched their reaction, and the way James had all but frozen, not breathing or moving other than the slight tremble Tony only knew about because he was holding James' hand. Tony himself felt his breath stutter in his chest, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment at the way the rope on his heart seemed to tighten into a chokehold at the statement.
Before anyone could say anything, Thor stepped forward slightly, his face the picture of surprised despair. He spoke more softly than Tony had ever heard. "Have you undergone torture, nephew?"
Harry stiffened a bit, flicked his eyes away from Thor's face for a second and his shoulders curled in a bit, protectively, before Harry seemed to catch himself and return to his cool, impassive demeanor.
He wasn't quick enough for the people in that room, though, and his body language was enough of a confirmation for all of them to understand that this child had seen things and been through things no one should ever endure, let alone a kid. Let alone Tony's kid.
James made a sound like he'd been punched in the gut, like all the air in his lungs was violently forced out. Tony was gripping his arm so tightly that there would absolutely be bruises there (or maybe not, since he's apparently a freaking god). He was pushing back the flashbacks of water in his lungs and hands in his chest and guns on his temple. Now was so not the time for a self-pitying panic attack, the kid in front of him needed every bit of his attention. Tony used the hand that wasn't strangling James's arm, and he pushed his fingernails into his palm until he broke skin. The mild pain helped him focus, bringing him back to the present.
He forced a deep breath and faced his kid. "We'll do whatever you need from us to make you feel safe."
The words were an oath, a promise of more than truth serums and answers. Tony had no idea he could feel like more of a curse on the world than when he found out what his weapons were doing without his knowledge, but today, in this moment, looking at the brave, strong, resigned boy in front of him, Tony knew he was the most pathetic man to ever live. All his money, his power, his genius, his fame, none of it mattered because he hadn't used it to find out if he had a kid out there. He hadn't kept Harry safe.
There was no forgiving that.
James had nodded almost too hard next to him at the promise. Harry seemed to weigh their words, looking into each of their eyes and then scanning the room to gauge the others' reactions. Tony hadn't looked away from his son, so he had no idea what Harry was seeing there, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to loosen just enough to let Tony know that he trusted this promise, at least. That they would drink the potion and answer his questions.
The moment was broken when they all heard a crack from the porch, and the hurried opening of the door. Within seconds, a harried looking man came frantically into the room, holding his own wand up toward the room while his eyes checked over the kid. He didn't look like much in terms of backup, with his slightly graying blond hair, old worn out robe (seriously? robes?) and scars visible on his face and hands. But Tony knew better than to judge by appearances. Seriously, having watched Clint act like a child for the last two days didn't make him forget the focus and power he had in the field, and remembering Nat's honeypot days in his own company didn't overshadow her own skills. Not to mention the bland calmness that Coulson exuded, the way Bruce turned from anxious scientist to raging beast, and Tony's own lovable asshole facade that he showed the press. Clearly, appearances can deceive.
The new guy stepped close to Harry, keeping the group in his sights while he looked over the kid, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. When he spoke, his words were clear, though obviously ignoring the group to speak only to his son. "Are you alright, Harry?"
The kid seemed to take a deep breath, leaning a bit toward the man almost unconsciously. "Yeah Remus, I'm alright. Let's just figure this out, yeah?"
Remus, apparently, nodded and squeezed the kid's shoulder. "Of course, cub."
Watching the easy affection made a surprisingly strong flare of jealousy and longing pop up for Tony. He knew that his kid and him were strangers, and he would have had to find someone to rely on in the absence of any parents, but it still hurt that he wasn't the one who could be close to his son like that. It felt like adding another log to the slowly building anger toward James for keeping his kid away from him. The heat of it seemed to scorch into his skin where James held his hand, even though he still couldn't find it in himself to let go.
"Mooney."
Tony was pulled out of his regrets by James, who was slowly standing in what appeared to be shock, facing the newcomer. He went to take a step forward, but Remus spun quickly and leveled his wand right between James' eyes.
"I've got no bloody idea who you are, but until I find out, you're going to sit on that sofa and Not. Move."
James slowly seated himself again. Tony decided that now was a good time to speak up.
"Hey there, Houdini. I'm Tony, Harry's father." Remus's eyes widened here, flicking his gaze to Harry who tensely shrugged in frustrated confusion. They both looked back at Tony as he continued. "I met James and Lily about 16 years ago, and I never knew about the kid we made together. James here just had his memory rebooted and discovered that Harry was alive, so we came straight here." Remus seemed to be suspicious, but obviously trying to think through the legitimacy of what he was saying. "Everyone here is willing to drink that truth serum thing that James mentioned to prove we're telling the truth, and then I'd love to have a family bonding session to find out why my kid looks like he just came back from a goddamn war."
Tony expected the kid to get angry or sad or something at that statement, but the kid just snorted and muttered "no shit, mate". Remus rolled his eyes at that, giving Harry a look that clearly said behave.
None of which eased any of Tony's anxiety, but it did prove that sarcasm as a coping strategy was an inherited trait.
James leaned forward, clearly having collected himself a bit but openly displaying his longing and desperation. "Please, whatever you need from me so that I can hold my son again."
Remus took a shaky breath when he looked into James's face, then with a slight nod from Harry, he spoke again.
"Let's see who you really are then."