“Give him hell.”
Wednesday, November 8
Tony jerked from a restless sleep, reaching out instinctively to touch Harry, feel his son’s clammy skin and reassure himself that he was alive.
Harry was alive.
Harry was safe.
Harry was so fucking sick that Sirius and Strange combined weren’t able to keep the infections from popping up and the withdrawals from rocking through Harry and making him sick.
And…
Tony’s eyes traveled down Harry’s body, stopping at where both legs should be beneath the blanket and now there was only one.
Tony had been a parent for less than a year and he couldn’t even keep his kid in one piece.
Harry’s groaned, a weak sound that made Tony want to scream, and his eyelashes fluttered.
“Dad?”
“I’m here,” Tony said immediately. It made him feel so damned guilty that every time Harry woke, it was Tony that he asked for. Harry opened his eyes and Tony tried to smile for his benefit.
“Are you thirsty?” Tony asked. He grabbed a styrofoam cup filled with water and stuck a straw in it so Harry could drink without having to lift his head up. “Here, you- you need water.”
And a leg.
And a better parent.
And Barnes to be in eighty different pieces.
But Harry was going to have to settle with water.
Harry took a small sip and then struggled to sit up, something Tony was quick to help him with. After Harry laying there lifelessly with occasional bouts of orientation that was dimmed by Harry talking to nobody, Tony was just happy to see him looking more alive.
“Where’s…” Harry cleared his throat and blinked around the room with hazy eyes. “Where are we?”
“The hospital,” Tony said. He grabbed the chair beside Harry’s bed where he’d lived since they got Harry set up in a private room for recovery and pulled it right up against Harry’s bed to sit in.
Tony, who could count on one hand the number of times he had ever felt nervous, began babbling anxiously, trying to fill Harry in on everything all at once.
“Strange was the one who found you,” Tony told him. He grabbed Harry’s hand when it moved toward where his leg once was and squeezed it until Harry looked at him. “You were in a motel, in Mexico. Barnes- Barnes dumped you there and took off, we think. We’re still trying to find him, but Sirius and Strange have been working together to get you better, so that’s kind of taken priority.
“You were septic, kid. And… and that break you had wasn’t set right, there was a blood clot and it caused necrosis to set in.”
Harry’s voice was raspy, unsure, but Tony had never heard anything so beautiful in his life.
“Bucky… Bucky fixed it…” Harry said. His eyes flicked away from Tony’s face to his lower body and he frowned. “He said he’d done it before, in the war.”
World War II, clearly. Because Barnes’ method of fixing the break he caused had let to emergency amputation. Good old Uncle Sam didn’t start teaching the troops better methods until after they sat back and wondered why so many troops had to have amputations when they came home.
Tony reached over with his free hand and turned Harry’s face back to his own, terrified to break the news to him.
“Your kidney was damaged,” Tony told him in a rush. “And the infection in your leg was traveling quick, quicker from the dehydration. And…” Tony had to swallow hard when he saw Harry’s right leg wiggling in his peripheral vision. “They couldn’t save your leg, Harry. I’m sorry.”
Harry’s eyes widened all at once and he ripped his hand from Tony’s with more strength than Tony thought he would have.
Tony’s metaphorical heart shattered at exactly the same time Harry yanked his blanket off himself and let out a horrified scream at the bandaged stump just below his knee.
It was touch and go after that.
Harry’s vitals kept improving, a regimen of magical potions, medicine, and treatments were constantly trying to return his body to the health had had just a week ago.
But Harry had completely checked out mentally.
Tony couldn’t get him to talk when he was awake, Harry just stared at the ceiling with dull green eyes that used to sparkle with laughter and mischief.
Sirius came and went, spending all his time split between searching for Barnes and trying to coordinate treatments for Harry.
When he came, he talked and joked with Harry, doing anything to make him reply.
Harry ignored him just as much as he did Tony.
Pepper came and sat on Harry’s bed, stroking his hair and whispering soft assurances to him that they were going to find a way to replace his leg and that what was important was he was alive.
Harry cried then, but he still didn’t say anything.
Tony was damn close to sending his jet to Hogwarts, having Sirius snatch Harry’s best friends and bring them to see him. Surely those same kids that called and text every day, asking for constant updates, could get Harry to respond to someone.
By Friday, Tony decided to do just that. Harry was medically cleared to be discharged, his recovery fast-tracked with the apparently nearly unbeatable combination of modern science and ancient magic, but Harry hadn’t spoken or ate anything since Wednesday.
Strange had Harry hydrated through an IV, Sirius had him fed with nutrition potions he spelled directly in his stomach, but Tony watched as Harry slipped further and further away.
“Miss Granger,” Tony tried to force a smile for Harry’s friend, but it kept falling up short. “Have your classes ended for the day?”
Hermione looked as terrible as Tony felt, which was sad, yet Tony was kind of glad to see that Harry’s friends cared so much for him.
“Yes, sir, and I had a question—”
“Please come,” Tony said in an urgent whisper. “Harry’s gone completely silent and I can’t get him to talk, Sirius can’t, Pepper can’t…”
And if Harry didn’t start speaking soon then Tony was going to lose his mind.
“Oh thank goodness,” Hermione sighed and gave Tony a small smile. “I asked my Head of House, Professor McGonagall, if Ron and I could come this weekend. I was rather hoping you would approve as she already applied for the portkey.”
“I really wish Harry wasn’t gay because you would be a perfect daughter-in-law,” Tony said with his own heavy sigh. He looked through the window in Harry’s room and saw that he was still just laying on his bed, not speaking.
Harry’s wildly overpaid therapist had assessed him, the hospital psychiatrist assessed him, the best neurological experts had assessed him, and they all said the same thing-
Harry was in shock.
Harry went through a trauma and needed time to recover.
Harry could go home and recover there.
“Give him time.”
If Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley could shorten that time Harry needed, Tony would build them their own freaking floor of the tower.
Hermione laughed and blushed like every teenage girl ever. “I’ll let Professor McGonagall know you’ve given us permission. May I call you back in about half an hour?”
“Perfect. Thank you,” Tony said earnestly. He looked at his kid again and felt his heart break a little more. “Just- hurry.”
Once Tony finished talking with Hermione, he went and signed the discharge papers for his kid. It was technically against medical advice, but Tony could give Harry an IV and Sirius could give him potions when he got home if he still wouldn’t eat or drink anything.
The doctor Strange assigned to Harry’s case, Doctor Palmer, gave Tony a list of physical therapists that Harry could work with, groups for amputees, and a quiet reassurance that Harry would recover.
Tony ignored everything she said and sent Happy a message, telling him to bring up Harry’s brand-new-and-yet-to-be-tinkered-with wheelchair.
Tony’s son was in a damned wheelchair because Tony hadn’t kept him safe.
A few minutes later, it wasn’t Happy who came pushing a chair off the elevator, but Harry’s friend, the Spider-Kid, with a mysteriously invisible barking sound coming from the seat of Harry’s chair.
“Tony—”
Apparently they were on a first name basis. Side effect of accidentally adding a sixteen year old to the Avengers.
“—I’ve got something you’ll like in your office,” Peter said with a crooked grin that did nothing to take away the exhausted black bags under his eyes.
“Yeah?” Tony looked down where the barking was coming from. “I’m guessing it’s not a dog?”
“Nah.” Peter stretched up to look in Harry’s room and Tony saw his smile dip. “I… I thought he was cleared to go home?”
“He is,” Tony sighed. He ran his hand through his hair, only mildly disgusted to feel the grease beneath his fingers that was proof of Tony living in the hospital with Harry the past few days. “He’s exhausted and- and I think he’s in shock.”
“I- I would have came sooner, but I couldn’t leave Bucky out there,” Peter said quickly. He didn’t need to explain himself, everyone wanted Barnes found, and it wasn’t like—
“But I found him so I’m here now.”
“Wait!” Tony scrubbed his face with his hands and actually made an effort to focus on Peter. “You found Barnes?”
“Yeah.” Peter’s eyes were burning and his smile became more sharp, sharing Tony’s enthusiasm for seeing Barnes suffer long and hard.
He was growing on Tony, just a smidge.
“He’s in your office. Don’t worry, he’s not really in any kind of shape to escape,” Peter said with a flash of smugness in his eyes. “Pietro, Clint, and Psycho are all there just in case.”
Tony laughed so hard it nearly sounded like a sob then.
Strange and Sirius had been scouring the Earth to find Barnes. Bruce and Rhodey had the damned military searching for him, even Clint and Nat had been using all their resources from their time in the field to find Barnes and it was Peter- this awkward, shaggy-haired kid with some spider bite induced powers and a fucking skateboard that found him.
“I could kiss you,” Tony said with frank appreciation. “Come on, you get the honors of seeing if that dog will get Harry up.”
Peter looked like he won some sort of prize - and he did, actually, a $500,000 prize - when he pushed the wheelchair in Harry’s room and dramatically whipped Harry’s cloak off the dog and plopped them both right on Harry’s lap.
“Hey, Bright Eyes,” Peter grinned down at Harry when Harry blinked slowly at the dog licking his face.
Tony checked his phone quickly, reading one from Hermione and sending one to Sirius.
Professor McGonagall will portkey us to your house after dinner. We should be there at two your time. Thank you.
She was rather polite for a teenager… Tony preferred Harry’s snark. The quick text to Sirius was a necessity, as Tony didn’t want his kid anywhere near Barnes. It burned even having him in their home, but Peter did good taking him there really.
I’m bringing Harry to your place. Expect a gaggle of teens soon.
Hermione got a thumbs up response and Sirius sent a shooting star.
“This was in the trash?”
Tony looked up quickly and saw that Peter Parker was apparently a fucking miracle worker in more ways that one. He had Harry sitting up, his overgrown dog curled up in Harry’s lap, while Harry ran his fingers over every inch of his cloak.
Had Barnes taunted Harry about throwing away his cloak or had Harry been awake when he did it? Either option was crap, but Tony could get his answers soon.
“Uh…” Tony tried to act casual, as if his kid came back from a catatonic state every day, and reached over to feel around the silk fabric until he found the tiny little chip he’d attached to one corner. “I put a tracker on it.”
Tony would apologize, but he wasn’t actually sorry at all and he tried not to lie to his son. The very second he could figure out how to attach an operable and invincible tracker to human skin, Harry would have it on him.
Nobody was going to take Tony’s son from him ever again.
Harry looked up at Tony and Tony had never guessed how much that single sheet of magical cloth meant until Harry looked like Tony saved Harry’s first born child.
“It’s from- from James…” Harry said, clearing up any mystery on why he looked ready to cry.
“Good thing he had it chipped then,” Peter said brightly. “Hey, they said you’re free now. You ready to go?”
Harry’s reverent expression shuttered closed immediately and Tony’s heart sank.
Peter wasn’t daunted by Harry’s quick return to silence though. He moved the dog off Harry’s lap, setting it on the floor which had to be against at least three hospital policies, and then bent down to grab Harry.
“Stop,” Tony said quickly, his pulse speeding up in a way he was too tired to pick at. Peter hesitated with his arms extended toward Harry and Tony quickly moved him aside. “I’ll do it.”
Harry clenched his jaw and shut his eyes when Tony carefully lifted him from the bed - Jesus Christ, if Tony thought he’d been too light before, it was nothing to what he weighed then - and sat him down in his chair.
“And for the finishing touch!” Peter grabbed the wriggling dog from the floor and put it on Harry’s lap, right on top of the cloak Harry hadn’t let go of. “Perfect.”
Tony saw the way Harry kept his jaw clenched and his fingers tightly wound around the dog’s collar and doubted if Harry thought anything was perfect, and Tony could almost agree.
Except just the fact that Harry was alive and going home was perfect enough.
And perfect enough was probably going to be the name of the game for a while.
*****
Harry had made the noise everyone made around him entirely meaningless for the car ride home. He could see Peter talking, his eyes lit up with enthusiasm for something while he spoke, but Harry didn’t want to hear it.
Tony sat beside Harry, one arm wrapped around Harry’s shoulders, and Harry made that meaningless too.
Harry kept looking down and feeling immediately off balance and dizzy with the way one of his legs ended at the knee, the fabric of his sweats loose and empty beneath it.
They took his leg.
They took his fucking leg.
In all of Harry’s worst imaginings - Bucky snapping and strangling him, suffocating beneath a pile of potatoes, wasting away in a bed in a country where Harry didn’t even understand the language - Harry never expected that he’d lose a leg.
And lose was a stupid word to use, really. Harry didn’t misplace it, he didn’t set it down somewhere and forget where it was… they cut it off him.
Someone made a decision that Harry’s fucking leg wasn’t important and cut it off.
Even Joey knew Harry was wrong. He curled up on Harry’s lap, burrowing in the cloak that wasn’t in the garbage, and kept poking his nose where Harry’s leg used to be.
Harry managed to make every word Tony and Peter said completely meaningless all the way up until they pulled in the garage and a familiar voice broke through the barrier Harry built around himself.
“HARRY!!”
Harry’s head snapped up from where he’d been staring at his stump, and saw Hermione and Ron standing in of the doors to the lift, running directly toward the car.
“Who…” Harry had to lick his lips and swallow hard to make his words sound like actual words and not hollow croaks. “Who called them?” he asked, feeling sick to his stomach.
“They’ve called us, about fifty times a day,” Tony said slowly. “I thought you’d like to see them?”
Harry was grateful that the car windows were tinted a dark black, but he wished Peter wasn’t in the car with him at that moment.
“No,” Harry said shortly, turning his head to the side and pressing it hard against Tony’s shoulder, hiding the tears he knew were coming.
“Hey, Pete, why don’t you take them up to Sirius’ place?” Tony said, somehow understanding that Harry didn’t want them around him.
“Yeah, okay,” Peter said.
Harry kept his face turned away, desperately trying not to scream, and waited for the car door to shut behind Peter.
“Tell them to go,” Harry said bleakly. He’d wanted to see Hermione and Ron so bad- so bloody bad -but not like that.
It was bad enough that Peter and Pepper and Sirius had all seen Harry laying pathetically in a bed, too weak to move and too miserable to even speak.
Hermione and Ron were two of the only people left that Harry had that only had memories of him when he’d been an entire person.
Harry had thought that a little scar on his forehead made people see him differently? What were his best friends in the world going to say when Harry only had one leg?!
“Freak.”
That was what they were going to say and Harry didn’t want to hear it- Harry didn’t want to hear it from anyone.
It was easier to just drift along in his own head than look at anyone’s face and see their pity or hear their sympathy and disgust in their voice.
Harry didn’t have the energy to snap off at people, he didn’t need the adrenaline from a spat to wake him up. Harry just wanted to be left alone.
And Hermione and Ron came clear from Hogwarts to see him.
“Hey… hey…” Tony leaned away from Harry enough that he could snake his hand between them and lift Harry’s chin up, forcing Harry to look at his face.
There wasn’t pity in Tony’s eyes, but the depth of concern hurt nearly as much.
“I love you,” Tony said, easing the band around Harry’s lungs that Ron and Hermione’s presence brought.
“But if you want them to go, you have to kick them out yourself.”
Harry jerked his chin from Tony’s grip as the band snapped right back around Harry’s lungs.
That was fine; Harry set his jaw and clenched his cloak tightly in his hands. If Tony wanted Harry to go up there then he was going to have to drag him.
“Nobody’s going to think less of you,” Tony said. “It’s not like it’s your fault, kid. They- they love you, you know? That girl, Hermione? She’s been bugging the hell out of me and Pete said that Ron has even figured out texting just to…”
Harry stopped listening to what was probably an earnest and well-intentioned speech right after Tony said it wasn’t Harry’s fault.
It was Harry’s fault.
Buc- nobody pushed Harry from that car, that had been all Harry.
Harry broke his leg and then they cut it off him as punishment for being so ungodly fucking stupid.
And now Harry was some freak with a stump for a leg and his friends wanted to see him and Harry couldn’t face them.
Except Tony wasn’t going to give him an option apparently.
Tony got out of the car then came around to Harry’s side and reached in and grabbed Harry as if he weighed nothing (Harry wondered how much his leg had weighed) and lifted him from the car.
“I told you before, I don’t know how to be a good parent,” Tony said quietly while he put Harry in a wheelchair.
Harry had a lot of injuries in his life, but he’d never suffered the indignity of being pushed around in a wheelchair.
“But I do know that those two kids have been at least thirty percent as worried as I was and I think you’ll feel better if you see that they aren’t going to treat you differently,” Tony went on. “It’s not like I’d know anything about coming back from a kidnapping with a destabilizing injury though, so feel free to ignore me.”
Harry did.
The closer they got to the lifts, the more Harry felt as if he were going to be sick. In a desperate, and rather pathetic, move, Harry took his cloak from his lap and covered himself in it and held Joey as tightly as he held his eyes shut.
Harry knew it was childish, cowardly, but nobody seemed to understand that Harry could not lose the last two people who only knew Harry before.
Before Harry tried to help someone who didn’t deserve it.
Before Harry jumped from a car.
Before Harry cried and clawed himself beneath piles of potatoes, panicking and thinking he was going to die.
Before Harry paid the price of his idiocy with his leg.
They knew the Harry who could have been worth something one day.
And now Harry didn’t even know Harry anymore.
Tony kept up his stream of encouragement during the ride up and Harry blocked it out while he breathed in and out, slowly and steadily, reminding himself it was only dark because Harry chose for it to be.
“It’s only twenty miles then I’ll get you out, okay? This is all going to be over soon, I swear.”
Maybe it had been Harry’s crap prior education or the way that converting miles to kilometers never made sense to him- but those twenty miles had felt like the longest and darkest trip of Harry’s life.
Every bump they hit had caused the weights on Harry’s chest to rise up just enough that he could almost take a full breath and then slam back down.
If Harry ever had to smell the earthy and damp scent of a potato again, it would be too soon.
*****
Tony had been so confident that bringing Harry’s friends to see him would bring some small measure of joy to his kid and he clearly couldn’t make a single damned decision right for his son.
When the elevator doors opened for Sirius’ floor, Tony really wished he could just take Harry up to his room and let him stay there. (Un)fortunately, there was a piece of human garbage at their place that needed disposed of - in tiny, indistinguishable, pieces - before Harry could actually go home.
Between forcing Harry to be in the same area as his friends or the man who kidnapped him, broke his leg, beat the hell out of him- it was an easy choice.
Even if Tony felt like an ass when he pushed Harry from the elevator to the living room where Sirius, Hermione, Ron, and Peter were all waiting.
Hermione jumped up from the couch and looked anxiously from Tony’s face to the footrest of the chair where the toe of Harry’s yellow hospital sock could be seen.
“We’ve got him,” Ron said, easily getting up from the couch and coming over to grab the handlebars of Harry’s chair from him with a smile. “Oi, mate, ready?”
“Ron!” Hermione shrieked and Sirius and Peter grinned when Ron took off across the room with the chair and immediately popped it up in a wheelie.
Tony sidled up to Sirius while he listened hard to pick up a small huff of air from Harry beneath his cloak.
“I need an hour,” Tony told Sirius from the corner of his mouth.
Sirius nodded shortly, his eyes sharp where they watched Ron and Hermione with the chair. “Peter told me. I’ve got Harry, go give him hell.”
Tony watched as Harry’s foot twitched and his dog slid off his lap, landing on the floor with a yelp that had Hermione smacking Ron’s arm and taking Harry’s chair, pushing him toward the kitchen.
Tony watched as Harry remained hidden under his cloak, refusing to be seen by the two friends he once went back to a place he hated just to be near.
It was agony.
And it was Barnes’ fault.
“Oh, I will,” Tony swore.
Hell was the least of what Tony was going to bring down on Barnes’ head.
Tony stormed off the elevator at his place, his suit in place aside from his mask, prepared to tear apart Barnes until he was nothing more than a nightmare Tony expected he and his son would share for quite some time.
“Move,” Tony said shortly to Clint and Nat. They stood outside his office door with their arms crossed, hopefully standing guard and not trying to stop Tony.
It would be a shame to have to hurt them- but Barnes was in that room and Tony would do what he had to do to get to him.
Clint stepped aside immediately, his face shining with a harsh sense of approval.
“You want help?” he offered, the only white flag Tony needed to repair their once strong friendship.
“He wants to do it alone,” Nat said. She looked Tony dead in the eyes and he saw understanding in hers. “Steve didn’t know.”
“Don’t talk to me about Steve,” Tony spat, even the name leaving a bad taste in his mouth. “Move or I’ll move you.”
Nat smirked, stepping over beside Clint and leaving the door unblocked.
“I’d like to see you try,” she said. She winked just before Tony opened the door so he liked to think that was another bridge that could be repaired eventually.
It would be good to have his entire family back; or, at least the ones he could still trust.
“Oh, that boy’s got my blessing when he asks for it,” Tony breathed to himself when he stepped in his office. Peter Parker was a godsend and if Harry decided that he didn’t want to date him again, Tony might just adopt him.
Pietro was sitting at Tony’s desk, his feet propped up on the desk, a pleased smirk on his face.
“He is rather clever for a child,” Pietro drawled.
They both looked up at the ceiling where Barnes was stuck with the webbing that Peter used. All that was visible of Barnes was his face that was so bruised and swollen that it nearly didn’t look human. A steady stream of blood dripped from his face to the floor, leaving a bloodstain in the center of Tony’s white carpet.
“Your work or Peter’s?” Tony asked Pietro without any real curiosity. He didn’t care who beat the hell out of Barnes, he was just glad they did.
“Clint and Peter,” Pietro said simply. He got up and stretched his arms over his head, placing a black pistol he’d been holding on Tony’s desk. “You have your opportunity for revenge, do not let it pass you.”
Tony glared up at Barnes and felt hate like he had never experienced before well up in his chest.
Tony hadn’t even hated Stane as much as he hated Barnes.
Barnes took Tony’s entire world from him, beat the hell out of, then dumped his body in another country where Harry would have died if it weren’t for Strange.
Tony owed Stephen Strange his life just as much as he owed James Barnes a slow and painful death.
“Peter said he had this with him,” Pietro said, kicking a black duffel bag on his way out of the office. “Enjoy your torture, Tony Stark.”
Tony nodded absently and kept his eyes on Barnes’ unconscious face while he dragged the duffel bag over by his desk. Tony retracted his gloves and picked up the pistol and spun it around in his hand, watching Barnes and imagining the most painful ways to destroy the man.
Tony wanted Barnes to feel as miserable as Harry did.
Tony wanted Barnes to feel like he had to hide from people like Harry did.
But Tony wanted Barnes to be awake for it. And since Peter had made sure Barnes wasn’t going anywhere, Tony could wait.
With the right incentive, Tony could be a patient man.
Sirius once said that he didn’t understand why Tony didn’t just kill Harry’s uncle that had abused him and stuffed him in a closet and Tony couldn’t properly explain that there was a small, spiteful, violent part of his brain that knew death was too quick and easy for some people.
Vernon Dursley was in a prison the last time Tony checked. Dursley was living in a cage that was larger than the one he put Tony’s son in, but a cage nonetheless.
And Barnes was going to wish Tony only wanted to kill him by the time Tony was finished.
With perfect clarity in his mind, Tony pulled the slide back on the pistol and aimed it up at Barnes. It was almost amusing, searching for Barnes’ left leg beneath the thick webbing Peter had stuck him to the ceiling with. Once he was reasonably confident he found it, and grateful to be the top floor apartment, Tony held the gun steady while he shot Barnes in the knee and woke him up.
Just because Tony could be patient, didn’t mean he had eternity to wait.
His son needed him.
“Morning,” Tony said casually when Barnes’ eyes opened wide and no scream came from his mouth. A new stream of blood began dropping from the ceiling, staining the webbing a satisfying dark red. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“K-kid,” Barnes said, working real hard to talk with the way his teeth looked like bloody chiclets.
“Kid?” Tony repeated, working hard to keep the fury from his voice. “You don’t mean my kid, do you? Because I’ve got to be honest here, you really don’t want to talk about MY KID to me just now.”
Barnes spit out a mouthful of blood and his eyes were wide and frantic. “He’s sick,” he said roughly. “Needs a—”
“A doctor?” Tony flipped his glove down on his left hand in one smooth motion and shot a warning laser just beside Barnes’ head, sizzling a hole through the ceiling.
“Yeah, he did,” Tony said. “And whose fault do you think that was? Huh? WHO LEFT MY SON TO DIE IN A FILTHY MOTEL IN ANOTHER COUNTRY?!”
“I saved him,” Barnes said, spitting another mouthful of blood, that time directed at Tony. “They were going to kill him!”
“WHO?” Tony demanded, screaming in his burning anger. “Because the only person that tried to kill Harry recently was YOU!”
“The wizards!”
“Wizards?” Tony laughed and knew it sounded hysterical and bitter. “You mean his godfather who has worked his ass off to save his life or his teacher who brought him back home? WHICH ONE DO YOU MEAN?” Tony demanded, shooting another hole on the opposite side of Barnes’ head.
“The ones with the tattoos!” Barnes yelled right back. He sounded as insane as he looked and Tony hated, hated, that his kid had been exposed to a lunatic with super serum in his veins that Tony’s own father had created.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” Tony sneered. “A wizard with a tattoo? You’ll have to be more specific.”
Tony could see where the webbing was starting to come loose from Barnes’ weight and his wriggling. And the second it came loose, Tony was going to grab him and slam his head in the floor until he couldn’t even think the word ‘wizard’ again.
“I saved your kid, we’re even now,” Barnes said flatly. “You don’t believe me? Check the bag.”
Equal?
Apart from the deranged lunacy that was Barnes thinking he in any way possible ‘saved’ Harry, what made them uneven to start with? Because Tony slept with Sirius after their shitty date ended?
“How were we uneven to start with?” Tony asked slowly, desperately hoping he hadn’t been the direct cause for Barnes to take Harry. When Barnes didn’t say anything, Tony shot him in the leg again, only a couple inches lower than where the first bullet landed.
“HOW WERE WE UNEVEN?!” Tony yelled, pissed as hell when Barnes didn’t so much as scream. He would bet that Harry screamed; Harry probably cried too, and Tony knew Harry hated to cry.
“Check the damn bag,” Barnes said through a clenched jaw. “Open it, go on.”
Tony didn’t take his eyes or pistol off Barnes while he reached down with his other hand to open the duffel bag, his incessant curiosity getting the best of him.
“JARVIS, you there, buddy?” Tony asked, keeping his eyes on Barnes in case it was a ploy to escape.
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s in the bag?” Tony asked, not liking the satisfied look in Barnes’ eyes. Anything that made Barnes happy, Tony was certain he was going to really freaking hate.
“I believe it is three human heads, sir.”