Chapter 11
Mr. Stark had given Oliver an outfit to wear temporarily, mentioning that “Steve wouldn't mind.” He had to admit, he felt a little weird wearing some strangers' much too-large clothes but, the pants had a drawstring and they smelt fresh and clean. The kind of clean you get from being a clean person, not just by washing your clothes. Plus, he felt a little less terrible in them.
Mr. Stark had gone to make food. He didn’t have super high hopes, he was a rich kid his entire life after all. Who knows though, maybe it was a hobby. Oliver picked at the edge of the shirt. He really didn’t want to talk about it. Not with Mr. Stark. Maybe if he had kept his friends, or if he could contact Peter he would want to talk to them but he didn’t and he couldn’t. He would have to talk about it all eventually. He knew he would have to. There was always an eventual.
A knock interrupted Oliver’s thoughts and Mr. Stark peaked around the door.
“You don’t have any allergies or anything right?” Oliver shook his head. He gave him a bowl of macaroni and cheese and pulled a chair up in front of the bed, his own bowl in hand.
Oliver stared at it, fiddling with the spoon and moving the food around the bowl. He hadn’t had boxed macaroni in a while. He used to really like it but his mom didn’t like buying it for some reason.
“Come on, I know it’s not gourmet but it’s not terrible,” Mr. Stark said through a mouthful of his own food. He looked a little offended that Oliver wasn’t eating but was trying not to show it. He took a bite. It was fine, just a box of macaroni but, it was good anyway. And Oliver was pretty goddamn hungry.
“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “I’ve got some grocery shopping to do tomorrow, how about I bring you along and I can get you something a little more stylish?” Mr. Stark said with a smirk, he was joking, mostly, about the stylish part, trying really hard to break the tension that kept building.
Oliver swallowed his mouthful. “What about my face?”
He smiled prematurely at his own joke “Oh come on, don’t be so hard on yourself, you’re not that ugly.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. His dad used to make similar jokes. “I meant the bruises, jerk.” He wanted to say asshole but sweating around adults always felt weird.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. People always ask way fewer questions than you think.”
He nodded and let his attention drift back to his food.
“So you’ll come?”
“Sure” Oliver didn’t feel sure about it but it would probably get him to go away and he was really tired.
Mr. Stark nodded and finished his bowl.
“If you’re done I can bring your food back to the kitchen for you?” He offered out his hand for the bowl. Oliver wasn’t done, but he gave the bowl over anyway.
Finally, he got up and left the room. Oliver stayed sitting in the same spot for a minute, in case he came back. When he didn’t, he curled up in the bed, nesting the blankets around him and fell asleep.
The next morning, the fancy Alexa woke him up again, stating the weather and the time, 10 am, before telling him he should be ready in an hour. Oliver just lay there for another second. He can’t believe he slept through the night. He was tired, obviously, but it was like 3 pm when he went to sleep.
There was a small pile of clothes sitting on the chair Mr. Stark had pulled up yesterday. Good. He wouldn’t have to wear his mom's picks wherever they were going. Maybe some rich fancy place, hopefully not though, all of Oliver’s favourite clothes he got at second-hand stores. Cheaper and they matched his style.
Finally, he got up. He didn’t shower. His hair wasn’t greasy anyway. The clothes were still too big but he didn’t mind.
As soon as he opened his door, he could smell bacon cooking. Good, he didn’t want to look for something to eat. He shuffled over to the kitchen, hoping whoever was cooking would offer some. It was Captain America. Captain fucking America. Oliver stopped walking towards the kitchen, he kind of just stood there, staring. Mr. Stark he knew of, and Thor was pretty cool but Captain America? America loved him and he was a huge public figure. America’s mascot, he and his friends had joked. A straight cis white man, what a shocker. Even though he thought America's choice in person might be a little iffy, he still thought the guy himself was pretty cool. Stopping nazis and all that.
He noticed Oliver and his face twisted into a soft annoyance. “So you're the one that’s been stealing my clothes?”
Oliver’s eyes widened and his face heated up. He was wearing Captain America's clothes?! Captain America’s clothes smelled fresh and clean.
“I- uh- sorry, Mr. Captain America sir.” Oliver wasn’t really sure how to address him but he was pretty sure it wasn’t that.
Mr. America laughed, a good laugh like it came all the way down in his stomach and rumbled in his chest. “You can call me Steve kiddo. And it’s no biggie, it was probably Stark anyway.” He had a good smile, no wonder he was the poster boy. He had a very comfortable energy about him, Oliver felt relaxed just by being around him. However that relaxed energy didn’t really counter all the other energy, but it was a nice flavour to add to the mix. “You want some eggs and bacon? Bucky was supposed to be making toast but he’s being lazy over on the couch.” Steve glared mockingly over at the couch where another man, Oliver did not recognize, looked at Steve with a shit-eating grin.
“Uh sure, I’m Oliver by the way.”
Poster boy’s smile faltered for just a second. “I know.” right. Of course, he knew. They all knew. “Well, the bacon is cooling on that plate and some more eggs will be ready in a second.” He nodded in the direction of a plate. Sure enough, there was bacon on it.
Oliver moved over to the couch with a napkin of bacon. The man Captain America, or, Steve had been talking to looked over at him. He had a metal arm, Oliver tried not to stare.
“You’re Oliver then? Nice to meet you, I haven't heard much but all good things I swear.” Bucky said to him.
“Yeah. Bucky, right?” He nodded
Steve came over with two plates and handed one to him with over easy eggs and a fork on it. He sat down next to Bucky and-
“Captain America is gay?!” He didn’t mean to say it but, damn, of course, the Americans wouldn’t publicize that.
He raised his eyebrow “You have a problem with that?” They both seemed a little stiffer.
“No, sorry no. I’m bi, and trans. I just didn’t think America would like someone queer as their mascot.”
Bucky laughed. “Yeah, America's mascot. If they publicized anything true about you I think America would riot.”
Steve scowled playfully at him. “I’m also bi.” The fight seemed to seep out of him, but Oliver could see the edge now. He was quick to fight, quick to lose too. “Anyway,” Steve said, checking his watch, “Tony should be ready soon, how much you wanna bet he took a shower?” He looked at Oliver. He was smiling at him like they’d known each other for years. Like they both knew Tony and his shenanigans.
“I-I don’t know,” He fell into a goofy smile, desperate to fit in with the joke. “How much you wanna bet he shows up in a full suit?” He did good, right? He fit in? He hoped he wasn’t making a real bet, he didn’t really have any disposable income right now. Not that he was saving it for anything. He didn’t need to save it anymore, he had all his needs met right now, and he wasn’t saving to leave anymore. He still didn’t want to use it though. Just in case, right?
Oliver finished his breakfast by the time the elevator doors opened. Peter and Tony walked out, both in grimy clothes, smiles on their faces and talking about some great tech thing Oliver barely understood. Steve looked at him as if saying, I told you so. It felt good, despite the sting of being wrong.
“So are we going to have to wait for you to shower or are you going like that?” Steve interrupted the two techies' chat.
“What's wrong with this?” Mr. Stark opened his hands defensively. “Plus, I just showered yesterday, I’m fine.”
“Well, I’m going to change before we go.” Peter avoided his eyes. He was coming? Were Steve and Bucky coming too? He was glad if they were, less focus on him, less conversation to make.
It took them both about five minutes to get ready. Peter looked all cleaned up and had time to grab a granola bar. Mr. Stark changed his shirt. They all clambered into the car. Mr. Stark drove and Oliver rode shotgun. It was his first time out of the tower. It was his first time seeing New York in person. He was underwhelmed, other than all the people honking their horns. They seemed to do that a lot more in America.
The mall was brightly lit and filled with people. Oliver didn’t know what day it was, but it had to be the weekend. There were too many people and it was too early for it to be a weekday.
Bucky and Steve wandered off, aiming toward a grocery store. “Don’t forget snacks from the twentieth-century lovebirds.” Mr. Stark called after them. Bucky offered a middle finger in response. Mr. Stark turned to him and Peter, looking over the rim of his sunglasses. “Alright kids, where do all the teens shop these days?” Oliver didn’t really recognize a lot of the stores, he mostly thrifted at home.
“Well considering you’re a billionaire and Oliver has never lived here, I’ll lead the way.” Peter chimed in, saving him from an explanation. They started walking, Peter leading and Mr. Stark and Oliver trailing just a few steps behind. He felt like he should say something. Walking beside someone in silence felt weird. He turned to Mr. Stark but noticed two teen girls behind him pointing and whispering at him before he could say anything. He smiled just a little.
“I think you have some admirers.” He said, in a mock hushed tone. He nodded in the girls’ direction and watched something in Mr. Stark change, just slightly. Maybe he stood up a little straighter, or maybe it was confidence, Oliver didn’t know. He did know, however, when he asked the girls if they wanted a picture, he seemed like he did on tv. One of them teared up, and told him how he had saved her life. Oliver stayed back, not wanting to intrude, not wanting to become an unwelcome presence. Another group approached Mr. Stark and another. Before soon, a small crowd had gathered around. From tech geeks, to fan girls, to people only alive because of Mr. Stark. Oliver felt Peter pull his hand, leading him to a wall.
“It’s best to just stand here for a bit, he’ll be occupied for a while.” Peter sounded a little soft around all the fans.
“Should I not have mentioned it?” Oliver said, suddenly feeling guilty. Mr. Stark could have been ignoring them on purpose.
Peter sighed before answering. “It's not that it's, well it's complicated.” He searched for the words for another moment. “I mean he’s thankful for the fans, he would love to hear how he saved everyone's lives. How he’s inspired great minds and the world around him but, a lot of those memories aren’t great for him and he has his own life.” They both stare at him for a while. Even still, with it being an inconvenience and bringing back bad memories, he still looks into each person's eyes and hugs every person he’s saved with such sincerity. Sometimes, on tv, and in Canada, it seemed like it was some sort of publicity stunt. They knew he saved people but that was almost always in America. Or at least that's where the fight was. A lot of other places only heard about the end of the world, and never really felt it.
Silence filled their waiting, then, out of almost nowhere, Peter looked to the ground. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”
Oliver’s eyebrows knitted together. “I didn’t even notice.”
“Yeah. I guess I can’t really talk to you when I’m not at the tower. Usually, I’m around a lot more though I just.” He held his breath back for a second as if deciding whether or not to go on. “It's just, every time I’m around you I feel like I’m back there again. I feel really awful again and that's not fair to you.”
“Hey.” He turned to look right at Peter. “You don’t owe me anything. We went through shit together. We went through shit in the same room but, We still never met before that. If I make you feel awful because I remind you of all that shit, then you don’t owe it to me to be my friend.” He paused, leaving space for Peter to answer. He didn’t. “Although It would be nice to, to just know someone who knows it all, I mean knows it all, not just what the camera showed, If I make you feel like shit just give me the word and I can never initiate conversation again. You can walk through the tower and not even know I’m there. Just give me the word. But, if you want a friend. If you want someone who knows, then, I wouldn’t mind that.”
Peter looked back down at the ground, then, back at Mr. Stark. “I think, maybe, I wouldn’t mind that either.” He looked back at Oliver as if asking for permission, to be friends, or at least to try.
He smiled and nodded a little. “Okay.”
They both looked back down.
“Do you have a number, or like social media? So we can talk not in person?”
His lips pushed together awkwardly. “I don't really have a phone anymore.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Mr. Stark broke the quiet rushing over. He pulled them both into the nearest store, some basic place Oliver thinks he’d seen before. He seems not okay, but he can’t quite place the feeling. Mr. Stark walked over to a rack of t-shirts, leafing through them and checking the sizes.
Oliver followed suit. This store didn’t seem to have much of his style, so he spent some time just walking around. Except, wait, that was nice. He stopped to feel the fabric of a colourful button-up. It was good, and in his size too he checked the price and cringed. When did one shirt start being worth 45$? And American money too, in Canadian it’s even more. He dropped the fabric and took a step back.
“That looks nice, are you going to try it on?.” Oliver jumped, Peter had been standing right behind him.
“It’s uh, not really my style.”
“Well, you should find something to try on. Mr. Stark gets antsy if you don’t buy anything,” he noted, in a mock whisper.
“Does he buy you stuff a lot?” Oliver didn’t want to go through the guilt of having money spent on him all the time. Mr. Stark probably feels like he's obligated to treat him well.
“Not that much but, he likes to give people gifts, so I just say thanks every time he gives me something.”
“As long as it’s not a burden, to get me all this stuff, that is.”
Peter smirked. “A burden? The man’s a billionaire.” That wasn’t really what he had meant, but he smiled anyway. He picked up the shirt and carried it around. Being told to shop again would feel bad.
Eventually, he gathered a small bundle of clothing to try on. Peter seemed to have as well, and even Mr. Stark had picked out a shirt, along with a hat and sunglasses.
Oh. He’s hiding.
They all made it to changing rooms and, on the insistence of Mr. Stark, they all modelled their clothing in increasingly extravagant ways. Oliver’s outfits, according to Mr. Stark, made him look like an old man who loves to bird watch on weekends and garden the rest of the time.
They keep wandering around the mall, going into every store that Peter suggests. The guilt starts to fade away, even as Mr. Stark spends more money. Oliver just keeps telling himself that it’s okay, that he’s a billionaire and he is spending his money willingly. It’s all just okay.