What A Lie, What A Lie, What A Lie
The day went on, Rhodey left a few minutes after that, everyone saw their rooms and quietly thanked Tony. Except Wanda, who, at the very least, didn’t scoff at the Sokovian-style room, so Tony took that as a thank you, as it was the best he was going to get. Natasha and Clint both had weapons decorating their walls, and their favorite pastimes, books, DVDs, coloring books, because sometimes Clint liked to color. It wasn’t weird. Grown men can color too. The book says all ages. Just because it’s Paw Patrol, doesn’t mean it’s for little kids.
Sam’s was a tribute to his time in the military, a model of his wings hanging up on the ceiling. A stuffed redwing was waiting for him on his bed, to which he barked out a laugh and then proceeded to throw it at Bucky when he made fun of it.
Scott’s was based mostly on what FRIDAY could find on his likes, and his Ant-Man persona. There was a picture of him and his daughter Cassandra that should’ve made Scott comment on the creepiness of it, but instead it just made him tear up and thank Tony over and over again. Scott was probably the least angry at Tony, followed up by Natasha and Clint.
“All of you can disperse, go wherever you want, my living quarters is floor 93, if you can’t find me in my room, try the lab. 92 is completely off limits to all of you, FRIDAY will notify me if you find yourself there.” Tony faced all of the Rogues in their common area, all of them sitting on the large sofa, looking up at him. “If you need anything, you can come up to my floor or ask FRIDAY if you don’t want to talk to me. I have to leave for a meeting right now, I’ll be back in a few hours.”
The second to last part was directed a little more towards Wanda, Bucky, and Steve. Tony knew that the three of them would have trouble trying to ask him for help personally. All of them nodded their understanding, and Tony walked towards the elevator and up to his floor.
“He needs an entire floor to himself? And what’s up with us not being able to go to floor 92?” Wanda asked incredulously, looking around the living room. Obviously, she was looking for someone to agree with her that it was rude of Tony to forbid them from ever going to the mystery floor, but no one did.
“Floor 92 is Tony’s business. And this is his tower, in case you forgot already, Maximoff.” Natasha retorted. Clint placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her before she got too riled up over Wanda’s non-existent manners.
After that, the conversation dissolved into multiple different conversations between pairs of teammates. Scott and Clint talked about their kids, their proud dad grins in full effect. Natasha and Bucky spoke in Russian, as Natasha had promised to try to help him associate the language with something other than HYDRA. Sam and Steve spoke of their time in the military, Sam recounting some missions he went on with his late partner Riley.
While Wanda slowly slinked away, trying not to bring attention to herself. She silently walked her way towards the elevator. The elevator doors closed behind her as she let out the breath she’d been holding.
Natasha raised an eyebrow, looking over Bucky’s shoulder as he spoke excitedly about his room in Russian.
“-Те книги, которые Тони оставил после себя, Гарри Поттер? Они действительно интересны.” Bucky ranted, stopping when he saw Natasha’s eyes drift past him. A frown grew on his face, he looked between Natasha and the elevator, then back again.
(translations are in end notes)
“Она уже нарушает правила. Почему Тони позволяет ей остаться здесь?” Natasha mumbled under her breath. She was so used to being the only Russian-speaker, that it was new to her for someone to understand her mutters. Bucky nodded towards the elevator, a silent ‘Wanna see what she’s doing?’ However, Natasha shook her head. “FRIDAY.”
The simple word told Bucky all he needed to know. There was no way FRIDAY wouldn’t immediately alert Tony that Wanda was on a floor that she needn’t be on. Whether it was floor 92 or 93, Tony would know soon.
Meanwhile back on the ranch, which in this case is floor 93 with Wanda, the Scarlet Witch stepped off of the elevator to look around Tony’s personal living quarters. It looked similar to the floors below it which gave Wanda a gnawing feeling that she didn’t quite like. There were two doors, one blank and the other with the name “Peter” made from magazine letters glued onto the hardwood. Her head tilted at the second door, causing it to fling open.
She carefully stepped over the threshold, smirked when no alarm went off, scoffed when FRIDAY didn’t speak up. The window was wide open, raising confusion from the woman. As she looked around the room, she grew even more confused.
There were stuffed animals on the bed, clothes in rumpled piles on the floor, a laptop with papers stacked next to it on the desk, what shocked her most was the merch of each Avenger scattered around. A few plushies were laid out on the bottom shelf of a bookcase. Sure, there were a few Iron man shirts and plushies, but there were Captain America ones too. Falcon, Hulk, Thor, Hawkeye, Black Widow, Ant-Man, and.. No. There was no way.
Wanda bent down and hesitantly reached for a stuffed doll with red hair and a deep red jacket, a corset-looking shirt, and black leather pants. The exact outfit she had worn that dreadful day at the airport. How was there a doll of her with a look from a day where no public saw her? The doll was cute, she’d give it that, accurate too, as if the manufacturer was there that day.
“-really, I’m alright!” Wanda heard a small, mildly familiar voice. She barely had the chance to turn her head before a figure in a red and blue skin-tight suit landed next to her in the room. She stared up at them from her place on the floor, wide-eyed and faintly scared.
The white eyes on the mask that covered the person's face enlarged. An awkward chuckle escaped from behind the tight suit. Wanda stood, straightening herself out.
“I’ll see you after your meeting!” A gloved finger tapped on where the person's ear should be, and then the mask was removed. Underneath was a young-looking boy, probably 15 or 16 years old. His brown eyes reminded Wanda of Tony, and made her recoil. The luscious curls atop his head were fluffy, and well kept. His young face was flushed red as he nervously smiled at the woman.
“Who are you?” Wanda asked, though she vaguely recognized the suit he was wearing. She’d seen him before, but never with the mask off.
“I’m Peter, or Spider-Man. Whichever. You must be Wanda, right?” he reached a hand out for her to shake, to which she responded with a curled lip and a raised eyebrow. His hand retracted, hesitantly, as if waiting for Wanda to change her mind and shake his hand anyway. Peter glanced around the room, seeing all of his stuff scattered. “Are you looking for anything specific?”
Wanda didn’t answer, merely picked up the doll she had been looking at, and placed it in Peter’s hands. He smiled softly at it, running his thumb across the fabric that made it. Quickly, Wanda nearly missed his movement, he placed it carefully on his made bed next to a teddy bear. That, for some reason, gave Wanda a warm feeling inside. A feeling that she must protect the child from anything and everything. She had hurt him during that fight, and here he was, gentle and kind and nothing like the Stark she knew.
The boy then turned back to Wanda, still smiling, he seemed unflappable. Her presence didn’t seem to bother him, nor did her glares. He didn’t care that she watched him as he grabbed some clothes out of his wardrobe. Nor did he care when she made a face at his Iron Man paraphernalia.
“Um, if you don’t mind, could you leave the room? The suit is kinda full body, and I really wanna change.” Peter’s face flushed again, though so did Wanda’s when she realized that she was keeping him from getting undressed. She nodded, turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind her.
While Peter changed, Wanda took a good look at the rest of the penthouse. The sofa was similar to the one in the common area she had just left, but it was adorned with pillows and multiple blankets. Before she knew it, Wanda was sinking into the sofa, curled up under a blanket that smelled suspiciously like fresh cookies still warm from the oven. She got lost in memories for a moment, before her mother and father were killed by the bombings. When they could afford it, on hers and Pietros birthday, their parents would make chocolate and oatmeal cookies. Those cookies were the single best thing Wanda had ever tasted, and she’d never have them again.
Sure, she could make a batch from an online recipe, but none would compare to her mothers. All recipes that her mother had but rarely ever made because of the money shortage were destroyed with the apartment.
Peter came out of his room to see the girl nearly passed out on his couch. She seemed so tired, so sad, so struck by tragedy, that Peter almost forgot that she was throwing cars at him just a few months ago. He plopped down next to her, not wanting to disturb her if she had already fallen asleep, but also itching with the need to talk to her. To ask her about what happened after Tony had told him to leave and forced him to stay in his hotel room for most of the rest of the trip until Tony left for Siberia, and Peter got an alert that he was in danger. Tony had been closed off about it, wouldn’t speak of it. He would avoid it with his media smile, and a compliment for Peter. (“You know, kid, you did really great out there. Did you see Cap’s face when you took his shield?”)
Unfortunately, those compliments would sidetrack Peter’s train of thought for the next hour or so. And then when he brought up Siberia again, Tony would start over. Peter got the hint after a few tries and dropped it.
“Your father killed my family.” Wanda mumbled, staring in the opposite direction of Peter. She heard splutters from behind her.
“Wha- what?”
“Stark Industries weapons killed my parents when I was 10. Stark’s stupid “suit of armor around the world” shot and killed my brother.” she elaborated, her voice cracking with sorrow as she spoke. Peter grimaced, confused at the accusation. Richard Parker never worked for Stark Industries. And even if he had, why would it have been his fault that a set of parents were caught in the crosshairs of their weaponry. Peter tried to say that, tried to explain why it couldn’t have possibly been his father, but he couldn’t get the words out.
Oh.
Oh.
Wanda thought that Tony was his father. “Suit of armor around the world” made much more sense now.
“The weaponry sent to terrorist organizations like the one in Sokovia and Afghanistan was authorized by one Obidiah Stane. Not Tony Stark. ” Peter recited, having read the files of Obidiah’s wrong-doings over and over until the words burned themselves into his brain. He could never blame Tony for that, for those lost souls, because he saved so many lives by shutting down the weapons division of Stark Industries immediately after finding out the different terrible ways that their weapons, supposed to be used for good and defense, were being used to kill innocent people. Tony had never meant for the weapons to land in such vile hands.
“Stark oversaw the shipments.”
“Not the ones that Obidiah authorized illegally.” Peter retorted. He realized how defensive he was becoming over someone who began mentoring him not long ago. It wasn’t because of the immediate pull he felt towards the older man, not because of the wealth and power that Tony had held in his hands since the second he was born. Peter simply didn’t appreciate it when people argue a point without first considering all of the information available.
Wanda didn’t speak up for a long while. There wasn’t anything else for her to say. She could shoot back with something about Pietro, but, in hindsight, Ultron was partly her fault. Though she would never admit it, she was finally starting to see the “good side” to Tony Stark that Natasha raved about the whole way back to the tower. She wouldn’t forgive him. Not so easily, not so quickly. She was still a rat in a trap, caged up like a maniac, when all she wanted to do was be able to freely roam the streets of New York City.
Wanda turned to face Peter for the first time since in his room. She expected an angry glare because of her rude comments toward his father, but she found a soft look, not pity, but empathy. As if he had suffered familial losses as well. She had also expected him to be wearing a fancy, expensive outfit, and was shocked by the normal-looking graphic tee with a science joke printed on it and gray sweatpants, a black zip-up hoodie consuming him as it was two sizes too big.
“FRIDAY? When is the ViaStone meeting over?”
“The ViaStone meeting should be concluded in three hours or less, Mini Boss.” Peter blushed at the nickname, clearly something that the AI said frequently, but Peter had still not gotten used to. Wanda wondered why that was. The name was said affectionately, most likely a nickname given to a young Peter by his father, Stark. So why did Peter seem so embarrassed by it?
“So, you wanna watch a movie?” Wanda smiled at the young boy's suggestion, a simple nod had him calling for FRIDAY to start up the first Star Wars movie, and a rant about the background of the making of said movie began.
The meeting was one-on-one. Ty and Tony, that’s all. The dynamic duo, together again. When Tony first arrived, the two had been cordial, shaking each other’s hands, greeting each other politely, but as soon as they both sat down the conference room went silent. Even though Ty had called the meeting, he didn’t seem to have anything to show Tony. Nothing to present or pitch, no money to give.
While he waited for the other man to speak, Tony took in Ty’s appearance. He had long outgrown the dorky exterior from back in junior high into high school. He and Tony then parted ways, him going to Harvard while Tony went to MIT. Tony hadn’t seen the man after graduation until now. His hair was lighter, the glasses still lay atop his crooked nose, but they didn’t seem nerdy or derogative. They seemed intellectual, genius, even. Tony would never admit that anyone other than himself and Peter, was a genius. So, he kept that little thought to himself. His blue-green eyes shone as bright as his intimidating smile. He never got that “normal smile” thing down. Tony didn’t mind, because it was familiar in a way that didn’t make him wish the Ten Rings had killed him when they had the chance. Unlike something else he could name.
“Tones-”
“Nuh-uh. This is a business meeting. Professionalism, please.” Tony interrupted, lifting a finger to point at the now-blonde accusingly.
“You just said ‘nuh-uh’.” Ty laughed, and gods was it good to hear that laugh again. A chuckle and a bark all in one, loud and obnoxious to some. Nostalgic music to Tony. Tony frowned, turning his finger around to tap his chin, looking up at the ceiling pensively.
“Did I? Shame you don’t have any evidence.” he smiled while waving aimlessly around the room. “Now, Mr. Stone, what proposition do you have for me?”
For the next hour and a half, they went back and forth, talking about a new initiative in ViaStone’s weapon division (“I know you don’t make weapons for your company anymore. But ViaStone needs your mind.”) Tony didn’t realize it, but he had been shaking his head the entire time that Ty was presenting. It was a force of habit. The amount of people that came to him, pitching ideas to get him back into the weapon business, he had the speech down by now and, unfortunately, had to give that speech to Ty today.
“Look, it’s a wonderful offer-” Tony started, but as Ty looked at him. Those puppy eyes that only ever seemed to fool Tony hypnotized him. The blue and the green mixed together, as if watercolors that touched on the canvas. Just then, Ty did his move. Tony had the move memorized by now, he’d seen it in action and been a victim of it multiple times.
It started with the eyes, holding eye contact for a few moments before slowly lowering the head, sniffing once, twice, so that the other person will know how important it is for him to get what he wants. Tears pooled in his eyes, another trick of his to “accidentally” poke both eyes while bent over, now when he looked back up at Tony, he looked ruined. Broken.
“I know- I know. You probably never want to make weapons again, but I need you, Tony. This could mean big money, for both our companies.” Another sniff, and a wipe of the nose and eyes. Ty was pulling out all of the stops, and Tony was falling for each and every one. The eyes, the fake crying, the sniffles, the crack in his voice as he spoke. “Please Tony, please. Look at the big picture. Only this one time, and I promise that I will never bother you. Please. You gotta, you really do gotta. Please, Tony.”
“I’ll talk to Pepper, alright?” Tony compromised, not being able to bear seeing him like that. Desperate and needy. It wasn’t a pretty sight, especially since Tony had never had the self-control to let Ty make it to the begging portion of his move.
“Thank you, Tony. You won’t regret it.” Oh, what a lie that was.