I bet our mother would be proud of you
It's his fault, partially, at least. He got busy, after everything in Afghanistan. And he never approved of her going SHIELD or the CIA. Tony's never been one to hide his opinions. It must've hurt her, that he scoffed at her dream and then turned around and became the very thing she'd wished to be.
He lets the door shut with a soft click and watches as she picks up her head quickly, her dark eyes softening when she sees him. She's wearing that familiar dirty look of shame, the one of taut muscles, impossibly perfect posture, and tight eyes. It's the stance of a soldier about to get beaten. A soldier who's just going to take it because it's better than being dead.
Tony doesn't know what's he's done to deserve that look from her- for her to expecting his biting tongue. And he's angry, he's so fucking angry, but he doesn't want to hurt her. He's doing his best not to hurt her. How is he meant to open this conversation? All of her life she complained that Tony babied her, that he thought she was weak. But she never learned how to take his sharp words, not like Pepper and Rhodes had.
"Did you get played or did you make a mistake?"
Tony can see her jaw shifting as she decides how honest she wants to be.
"Both," she admits.
"Do you want to walk me through it?"
She has the decency to look embarrassed, her nostrils flaring. "I was assigned as his handler. Undercover. He didn't who I was. I thought he was a good guy. I was just supposed to do surveillance and assistance. And then the Triskelion fell. He seemed to handle it well. I wasn't even there when it fell. I just got the alert and went to check on some friends."
Tony doesn't say anything, waiting quietly as she decides what to say. A part of him despairs at her reticence. When had they become people who were careful about the words they said to each other? He wonders if he taught her that. Probably. Another thing that's his fault.
"Nat told me that you weren't cued in until last minute?" she asks.
Tony nods.
"I couldn't tip my hand about you to him, but I should've called you myself." She pauses. "I'm sorry, Tony."
Tony shrugs. What else was he supposed to do? He should've been called the minute Hydra was detected. Tony could've worked surveillance, built algorithms, to root out Hydra. So many good agents were burned, their covers blown, their whole lives destroyed and up for grabs. It hadn't even been sold. Information on spies gets sold daily for thousands and millions of dollars, money that's usually traceable.
"Tony," she says and he just knows she's gearing up for another apology.
"Not yet." He's already crumbling under the weight of her gaze, under the burden of the being the cause of their distance. "I need to hear everything first."
"After that, I kept a low profile. I used the access you gave me to make sure all of my contacts and friends were clean. Hill said she didn't want more hands on the clean-up, you were there to help. It-" her lips purse momentarily before her upset is smoothed away, "-it bothered me, I suppose. You never wanted anything to do with SHIELD. Not after Monaco. And then you sent me to the CIA."
He can't believe her. If it were up to him, she wouldn't be anywhere near the espionage world. He put her in the CIA because she wanted to do something. She glares at him and Tony doesn't know how to do anything but blink.
"I'm doing a recount, Tony. I know you only did it because I was untethered and you didn't want me to have a target on my back. I took the job, Tony. I got paid and I got to do what I'm good at. Yeah, I didn't like that you interfered but you can't help yourself. You've always been watching my six."
He hates that he's comparing her words to a spy. He hates that he's searching for signs of dishonesty. He hates that he can't trust that she's not working him like she was taught to. It's not fair considering he was taught the same, by the same teacher. Whoever said 'The Enemy you know over the Enemy you don't' was a fucking idiot. Nothing is worst than the enemy you know, than the one that shares so much of you.
She almost laughs, Tony can see the way her mouth purses slightly to contain it; she was always self-conscious of her laugh for some reason, he remembers. "And my twelve. And my one, two, the whole clock," she adds.
"You just wanted to stick it to the old man?" Tony asks, his chest tight.
She looks pissed that he would even suggest that, scoffing quietly. "I lived more than thirty years without a teenage rebellion, you think now was my moment? How childish do you think I am?"
"Do you want me to answer that seriously?" Tony jeers. "I can answer that seriously. Do you want percentages, ratios, how do you like your data?" Sharon flinches but Tony powers on. "I'll admit it's not a common instance so the data is skewed in your favor but that one outlier really screwed me over, Sharon." He rolls his lips, tucking them back before he can say something mean. Or, meaner.
Sharon's nostrils flare and he knows she's fighting the urge to react, to let her emotions spill everywhere. Or maybe she's playing him. He doesn't know, anymore.
"I think I've screwed you over more than once, Tony." Sharon tries a smile. It's weak and it's not working on him and she knows it. "There's no excuse, Tony. This is what happened. I went to the CIA. Sokovia happened. Ultron happened. Everyone was fielding my calls. Then I hear chatter that you're working on the accords. And I thought it was your guilt, that you were letting your guilt eat you. I mean, you've always held yourself accountable- maybe to an unhealthy degree. But you have trust issues, for a reason-" she makes sure to add, "-I couldn't see you trusting Ross to hold you accountable."
He's fucking tired of people bringing up Ross. He's dealing with him. He got him off of Bruce, he kept him at bay.
Sharon stares at him, her body unnaturally still. They were both raised like this, to keep quiet, to be observant. Or, rather, Tony had been raised that way and Sharon copied him. He hates it. He hates quiet and he hates stillness. It's why he refuses to be, why he makes sure he has all the leverage to be himself and still have people listen. Quietness is submission. His dad made sure to be the loudest thing in every room and he made Tony was quiet until he couldn't anymore. Tony's been loud since.
But now she's still and quiet; and Tony is too. He can't tell if she's copying him or if she's afraid of him. Both make him ache.
"He was at the funeral. He sat in the second row."
Tony let out a slow breath. "I couldn't make it."
"Uncle Danny didn't mind. He even let him be a pall-bearer. He was her friend. They loved each other and she always said he was a great man." Sharon blinks. "I think that was more for her benefit than ours. For Howards and Maria's benefit."
"Don't-" Tony warns. "I don't want to talk about them."
"But Uncle Danny was her true love. And he was so earnest-"
Tony's stomach rolls. "Did you kiss him?"
Sharon's eyes widen as she looks at him and maybe she see's something in Tony's face, in the set of his jaw, and knows what he's never been able to be honest to himself about. She looks so sorry for him that it makes Tony want to stand up and lock himself in his lab indefinitely. "He told me there was a threat and that no one was listening. He sounded so much like the man in our favorite stories. He was looking at me like he was proud- like I was someone...someone."
Tony nods, not really able to look at her.
"Tony," and it's the soft pity in her voice that feels like a final hammer in the coffin Steve left him in at Siberia. "I'm sorry. I didn't-"
"This isn't about that," Tony makes sure she knows. He forces himself to look her in the eyes. "That had- this was about 117 countries that were begging us to be better. And Ultron- Steve was right that the power is in our hands, that sometimes our hands are better. Ultron would've never worked. Without or without...outside influence. But we can't close our fist. We have to let ourselves be known and seen. We had an opportunity to show the world that we know our limits, that we know we can be better, that we know we have dangerous power."
"I was-"
Tony raps his knuckles on the table. "Yeah. Look. I get it. Those baby blues are dangerous stuff. Don't uh- don't kick yourself over it. I mean, a 16 year-old was able to break the trance, but then again we were bottle fed...his glory days. So."
"I didn't think he would kill all those people, Tony."
He hears the clang of metal, the rattling of his heavy breathes; he hears fading footsteps. So was I.
"Steve always forgot how strong he was," Tony remembers absently.
"I'll find them and bring them in," Sharon swears.
Tony scoffs. "The only reason you're not being tried for treason is because I knew that you got played and because you helpfully forgot to remove the trackers on the gear. Still, Interpol won't touch you with a 10-foot pole. CIA might let you ride a desk if you're good."
"I'll run my own op." Tony can hear her desperation, even as she keeps her face and body neutral. "I'll find them. Whatever will make you able to look me in the eyes again."
Tony looks at her sideways. "I know where they are."
She doesn't ask and he's grateful.
"They're fine there."
"So?"
Tony stands. "I'm passing you off to Maria and Happy. They'll give you a designation if you want to a cover. If you don't, Fury will pick you up for one of his pet projects. Consider this me staying off your clock."
"I don't want you off my clock," Sharon admits quietly.
Tony shrugs. "The door isn't closed, Sharon. You're not looking in from the window and neither am I. Consider me a safe neighborhood in the 50's."
Sharon laughs but even Tony knows it's hollow. "Did those ever exist?"
Her laugh breaks Tony's heart. He's weak. He loves her and he's weak to her. What he told Clint was true. He doesn't know how to close the door on people. He did it once and lived with the regret for the rest of his life. He makes himself still and looks at her. She looks nothing like Aunt Peggy, in truth. It's only her nostrils that bare any resemblance to their aunt. They both would flare their nostrils when they were feeling too much of one emotion. He forces himself not to flinch as she walks to him, an arm length apart, her nostrils flaring slightly as she takes in his stillness.
"If you ever want to be on my clock," Sharon whispers. "One day, maybe not today, but if you want to watch my six, I promise I won't kiss your childhood crush again."
"Bitch," Tony mutters and lets her grasp his arms.
"And if you don't want to watch my six, I promise I won't kiss your other gay childhood crush either," Sharon teases, leaning back to look at him fully. He feels warm where her hands are, something inside of him mending. "No kissing for me. Ever."
"That's all I've ever wanted," Tony says.
"I'm sorry, Tony," Sharon says.
Me too, Tony thinks as he pulls her in. The same height, she fits against him perfectly. He's secretly so relieved that there's no hesitation in their embrace, that there isn't an awkward shuffle. He's so glad they don't have to relearn this part, not when he's had to relearn so much since Siberia.
"Do you want to talk about your crush on Steve's boyfriend?"
"Oh fuck off!"