Chapter 9
"Hey kiddo, how're you feeling today?" Tony asked, watching as Harry shuffled into the kitchen slowly. He glanced at the time on the StarkPad he had been using and frowned. It was 4 a.m.
"M'okay," Harry murmured, pulling out a barstool with his good hand and taking a seat at the opposite side of the long island.
Bruce was amazed at how quickly his body was healing physically- he had never seen anyone recover this quickly, other than Peter and Steve, but that could be explained by their superhuman abilities.
Harry, however, was already walking with only a boot, his ankle having healed at a rapid pace. The cast he had on his wrist had also been replaced with a sleek brace that Tony had designed to help him achieve a full range of motion without any pain or damage to the mending bone.
But even Tony's most developed tech couldn't help Harry's struggling mental state.
"What're you doing up at 4 in the morning?" Tony chuckled, but under the laugh was concern. It wasn't healthy for someone recovering to be getting this little sleep.
"Time zones, I suppose," Harry brushed the question off with the lie. He had already gotten used to the time zone differences in the three weeks he had been staying at the tower.
In all reality, he was just trained to get up insanely early so that he could fix breakfast before Uncle Vernon woke. He had learned very quickly that if Uncle Vernon was left waiting for anything, he would be punished heavily for it. Even if it wasn't his own fault.
"Oh yeah," Tony responded, seeing through the lie immediately. Harry had stayed up with them until 11 last night, so he knew that time zone change or not, Harry should still be sleeping.
The two sat in silence for a moment, before Tony stood up.
"Look at me being rude. Can I fix you anything? Coffee? Breakfast?" Tony asked, walking to the other side of the counter.
"No, no, I'm okay!" Harry replied, too quickly. Tony raised an eyebrow at him quizzically.
"Really, I'm fine," he tried again, a little quieter.
"Alright..." Tony said, trailing off. He could tell that Harry had come out here with the intentions of being alone, and despite everything inside of him that was screaming 'stay with him', Tony sighed in defeat.
"Well, I think I'm going to go get a few hours of shut eye before Pepper gets up. Are you alright here by yourself?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you," Harry replied, keeping his head bowed. Tony wanted so badly for the kid to just look at him again with those big green eyes, but it had been days since Harry had made eye contact with him. It was if they were taking one step forward and two steps back with progress.
"Okay, then I'll see you in a few hours okay. Tell Jarvis to wake me or any of the others if you need anything," Tony said, wandering out of the kitchen with one more glance in Harry's direction.
As soon as Tony was gone and Harry had heard the door to his and Pepper's room close, Harry carefully slid off of the barstool. He had originally come into the kitchen to cook breakfast for everyone, but he hadn't expected to see Tony sitting there.
He had watched the team cook enough times in the past few weeks that he knew roughly where everything was. Quietly, he began pulling out ingredients and materials he would need to make pancakes, eggs, bacon and sausage.
Harry had made the meal so many times that he had the recipe down to a fine science. He had never tried his own cooking, but based on the neutral or even pleased reactions he had gotten from the Dursley's, he assumed that his cooking was at least mediocre.
As he cooked, Harry was sucked into a trance so deep that he almost didn't notice when Clint entered the kitchen.
"Harry?" Clint asked, making Harry jump as he whirled around. The glass bowl in Harry's hands that held the last scoop of the batter for the pancakes fell to the ground with a deafening crash as it shattered. Glass shards flew everywhere, and Harry dove to the ground to pick it up.
"Harry, no!" Clint lunged towards the kid, grabbing him up off of the floor and setting him on top of the counter.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Harry sobbed hysterically.
"Shit, Harry, are you okay?" Clint questioned breathlessly as his eyes scanned Harry's body with urgency.
"I'm so sorry, please, please don't, I'm sorry, please," Harry begged, flinching away from Clint's touch.
"Harry, shh, it's okay. I just want to make sure you're okay," Clint attempted to soothe, but Harry was already too far gone.
"Jarvis, call Tony and Steve to the kitchen," Clint barked, focusing on the large shard of rounded glass that was sticking out of Harry's knee.
"Please. Please, please don't. I'm sorry," Harry wheezed, breaths getting shorter and closer together.
Moments later, Tony and Steve came running into the kitchen.
"Clint, what happened?" Steve asked, his socks sliding a bit as he tried to stop suddenly.
"Shit! Harry!" Tony rushed to the kid's side in seconds. When he rounded the corner of the counter, he took in the sight of the shattered bowl, the stack of pancakes on a plate next to the griddle, and sizzling bacon and sausage in the frying pans on the stove. His gaze then shifted to the frantic Harry, the blood now seeping from the cut, through the old sweatpants Harry had been wearing to sleep in. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.
"Tony, I need you to calm him down. Steve I need you to grab the first aid kit from beneath the sink and we'll clean this up," Clint ordered quietly as not to startle the already frightened child sitting in front of him.
Steve ducked away for a split second before returning with the first aid kit.
"Harry, look at me," Tony cooed softly, grabbing Harry's shoulder gently. His heart clenched as Harry flinched away, shoving Tony's arm away from him.
"Look at me," Tony said, a bit firmer this time. Harry whimpered, and he jolted away from Tony's hard tone, but slowly he raised his gaze to meet Tony's.
"I'm sorry. Please don't. I'm so sorry... messed up. Please. Don't wanna go. Please, sir," Harry pleaded, his eyes glazing over as he stared slightly past Tony.
"Harry, please calm down. It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. Shh," Tony soothed, cupping Harry's face in his hands in attempt to bring the kid back to the conversation instead of wherever he seemed to be right now.
"I need you to tell me if anything else hurts," Tony brushed a tear away from Harry's wet face. Harry shook his head vigorously, diverting his gaze from Tony's face, continuing the mantra of apologies.
"Breathe with me. In and out, just like this," Tony demonstrated, but Harry was still just staring at his hands.
"Son, look at me," Tony whispered, voice close to breaking. It killed him to see Harry like this.
Harry's chest tightened, in a good way this time. Tony had called him 'son'. He knew it was just an affectionate term, just like 'kid', 'kiddo', or 'champ', but he had heard Mr. Weasley call his boys 'son' so many times, he had always wanted to belong to someone that loved him enough to call him that. And now, here was Tony, calling him son, even after he had fucked up. Slowly, he looked up from his hands and stared into Tony's soft brown eyes.
"That's it," Tony breathed, a small smile on his face as Harry quit rambling and instead began to focus on his breathing. "Just like that."
Tony and Harry took a few more deep breaths, in and out, until Tony felt that he was calmed down enough that he was no longer at risk of passing out.
"Luckily that wasn't too deep," Clint told Harry, gently pressing a large bandage on to Harry's leg.
"I'm sorry, I'll clean up my mess and buy you another one," Harry apologized quietly to Tony. He glanced down at the floor and was surprised to see the mess gone. He looked around, a confused look on his face. His question was answered when he saw Steve dumping the dustpan into the trashcan at the other end of the counter, broom leaning against the wall a few feet away.
"Don't worry about it," Tony waved it off. "I hated that bowl anyways. I should be thanking you, if anything."
"R-really?" Harry stuttered. He had never had anyone react this calmly or kindly about him breaking anything. If he was with the Dursley's, he would receive a brutal beating, and if he was at Hogwarts, he would receive a detention if it were Snape, or a stern lecture from his other professors.
"Absolutely. Seriously, it's not a big deal at all. I'm surprised that bowl made it as long as it did, to be honest. We're not the most... functional group, and a ton of shit gets broken around here," Tony laughed.
"Harry, did you make all of this?" Steve asked, inhaling the captivating scent of the breakfast.
"Yes sir, I just wanted to do something nice for everyone. You've been more than welcoming, and I'm sure I've way overstayed my welcome here," Harry responded.
"First of all, Harry, it's Steve. I'm in no way a 'sir'. Second of all, you have in no way overstayed your welcome. You're part of the family now, and this is your home for as long as you'd like it to be," Steve replied to the child sitting on the counter.
"Capsicle here is right," Tony piped up. "We love having you here, and we want you to know that we want you to stay here. For as long as you want. You're part of the family."
"I second that," Clint spoke. "Now, can I fix a plate? My stomach is telling me it's time to eat. And I have to listen to what the stomach wants."
Everyone laughed, even Harry. With Tony's help, he hopped off the counter and set the pancakes out on the counter. He then removed the bacon and sausage from the frying pan and placed it on a plate, which then found a place next to the pancakes.
A few minutes later, an entire breakfast- buffet style spread was laid out on the counter. There was butter, syrup, whipped cream, chocolate chips, blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, eggs, pancakes, sausage, bacon, a variety of muffins, toast and jam all displayed in the perfect set up.
Tony, Clint and Steve all stood there, eyes wide as they ogled over the picture perfect breakfast. They were all so captivated by the sight that they didn't even notice as Natasha and Pepper entered the kitchen with Bruce.
"Are you idiots going to stand there, slack-jawed and drooling all day, or are you going to fix some food?" Natasha teased as she began fixing a plate. As if someone flipped a switch to turn them back on, the three men all dove towards the food, wrestling to be first.
"Oh my God. Harry, did you make this all by yourself?" Pepper questioned from the large table as she swallowed her first bite of food. From where he stood against the wall, Harry nodded.
"I'm sorry. Is it horrible? It's horrible isn't it?" Harry asked, wringing his hands in front of himself.
"Absolutely not," Nat said, stuffing another large bite into her mouth before saying with her mouth crammed full, "Dis is focking amazing."
"Gross," Steve wrinkled his nose. "And mind the language, yeah?"
"LaNgUaGe," Tony teased, making his voice bounce in a stupid-sounding way.
"God, you make me sound like a big dummy," Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I mean, he's not wrong," a new voice teased from the entrance of the kitchen. "Sorry to just barge in, but I needed to drop something off, and when I smelled breakfast, I couldn't help myself."
"Bucky!" A chorus of voices rang out, and the new man raised his arm in a half wave. His eyes scanned around the room before they landed on the newest member of the household.
"Well hello there," Bucky gave Harry a lopsided grin. Harry gave a head nod in acknowledgement, and dropped his eyes to his feet.
"Harry, go ahead and fix your food," Tony frowned, noticing that the kid was still standing with his back against the wall.
"It's okay, I'm not hungry," Harry replied.
"Harry, we've talked about this. You need to at least try to eat," Bruce reminded him sternly. He rose from the table and began to fix a plate. He piled fruits and a pancake on the plate before shoving it into Harry's hands.
"Now sit," he pointed at an open seat between Natasha and Tony.
Slowly, Harry did what he was told and took a seat between two of his mentors.
"Harry, was it?" Bucky asked, piling a little bit of everything on his plate. Harry nodded. "How long have you been staying here? I don't remember meeting you."
Bucky could tell that there was a backstory behind the kid. With how timid he was, the brace on his wrist, the boot on his ankle, the bloodstained sweatpants, and the way Bruce was having to force him to eat, he figured the story wasn't a happy one.
"A few weeks," Harry replied quietly. He couldn't figure out the long haired man who had just taken a seat next to Steve. There was something different about him, and it wasn't just the metal arm or the way he would exchange loving smiles and glances with Steve.
No, this was the same way there was something different about the rest of the tower's residents. Harry wasn't sure what it was, and he knew he probably shouldn't question it, but he just had wonder.
What was it about these people that made them seem so different from everyone else?