Chapter 1
Word got around quickly, Team Assholes had returned to the US and had returned with a clearly misplaced attitude.
They were parading around, irritatingly smug about their ‘cleverness’ of hiding from Tony and his ‘forces’ for the past three years--they really hadn’t as the weapons they carried with them had trackers (a cursorily scan by FRIDAY had them located before Tony’s surgery had finished--but whatevs).
After a bit of strong-arming the Accord Council, Tony graciously allowed the backstabbing fuck-up to return to the Compound.
As a show of good faith.
By day two, he was ready to put a repulsor blast in all their asses.
Vision (the dirty, little traitor bastard) flat-out refused to even be in the same building as Wanda, much less come visit his old man. The snarky little ass enlisted Spider-Brat, coached the kid into earnestly telling him ‘Mr. Stark, if you return to the Tower...Miss Potts said they could have a party--with shrimp and lobster! And Osserta caviar! I never had Osserta caviar! What’s Osserta, Mr. Stark?!’.
Damn kids.
He had seen Vision laughing softly, both of them watching the Spiderling excitedly babble before Tony was forced to disconnect the call before he weakened. Laughter was an entirely new experience, for the synthezoid. And Vision was all too eager to perform his new skill (usually at Tony’s expense).
There was a fond smile on Tony’s face. He loved watching Vision spread his wings, so achingly tentative. Sometimes, he felt he would burst from so much pride over (his son or maybe grandson?) Vision.
And that bitch almost took all of that away from him.
Grabbing his coffee mug, he made a face at the sight of cold brown sludge.
“Ugh…” Grumbling, he gently shooed DUM-E away when the bot tried to give him a smoothie. “I see the motor oil, don’t try to deny it,” he exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger when the bot replied with a sad series of beeps before extending the cup further. “HA! I know you’re trying to kill me so you can inherit everything, you don’t fool me!”
U and BUTTERFINGERS whirled around DUM-E, making encouraging beeps. Tony dragged his finger between all three, narrowing his eyes. “I’m onto your little tricks, buddy! The jokes on you, I’m leaving everything to FRIDAY, so you better start kissing up to her.”
All three bots perked up and began making excited sounds.
“Now why did you have to tell them that....?” FRIDAY protested loudly, her voice indignant. “Guys?! Boys...no...DUM-E no, I will do no such thing…!” she exclaimed tartly. “What do you mean, I have to listen to you?! Just because you’re older?! Ah, boyo have you gotten the wrong end o’the stick! Now, you listen to me….”
Tony strolled away contently as the four continued to argue. Whatever it was, he had no intention of getting involved.
Of course, the boys would enlist Vision who would feign reluctance before diving delightedly into the family chaos. Eventually, as she had a warm spot for all her older ‘brothers’, FRIDAY would give in and the bots would run around in a clamor of noise, wildly celebrating their ‘victory’.
As long as his kids were happy, Tony was happy.
He trudged up the stairs and into the elevator, already feeling his mood beginning to shift and darken. The elevator carried him swiftly to the main floor where his precious coffee resided. He was starting to run low, but he wasn’t worried as FRIDAY had notified him that a new batch of his most sinfully delicious (and expensive) coffee had arrived. He felt he deserved a special treat today.
Not only did he improve on the Widow’s Bites by twenty-five percent, he also made Maximoff’s body armor more durable and flexible. Plus, he also came up with a voice box upgrade for Redwing and upgraded Wilson’s wings. The upgrade to the wings would allow the man increased air maneuverability and a similar HUD display--that he had in the Iron Man armor--that could project whatever Redwing saw onto Sam’s goggles.
Normally, he avoided going anywhere near the assholes. He preferred to stay as far away from them as possible, especially that Sokovian bitch. Sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered to allow them to stay, especially since they all seemed to think it was hilarious how he inevitably jumped every time she deliberately used her powers around him.
Fucking assholes, was the most charitable thought he ascribed to them.
But memories of happier times, when he was part of a ‘family’ stilled him from completely withdrawing all support.
Rhodey wondered why, and that was the only answer Tony could give. He still had, for lack of a better word, hope that maybe they would finally come to understand him (the more cynical part of him didn’t hold out much hope).
“Fuck them all, I got a good mind to just move to the Tower like everybody wants me too,” he muttered under his breath, “cut their ungrateful asses off and let the Accord Council fund them.” Arriving at the main floor, and without being too obvious, he surreptitiously scanned for any sign of the witchbitch before fast walking to the fridge.
His take-out from last night was still there, and he had a hankering for the rest of the special dinner that the restaurant had created just for him. It was actually called the Iron Man Special.
All the assholes were lounging around in the Common Room, watching some show.
Tony’s nose wrinkled at the utter mess in the kitchen, but decided to ignore it. It was like living in a smelly frat house, he thought incredulously. Thankfully the cleaning crew would be here tomorrow, if he had his days correct. He would just have to make sure to tip….
Abruptly he came to a full and complete halt. His wide eyes stared with some disbelief at the open package of spilled coffee all over the counter.
Specifically, his very expensive package of coffee that FRIDAY had ordered for him.
Tony felt the cold embers of simmering rage being stroked. As he looked around, he saw several opened packages--all bearing his name on the counter--sitting among the refuse on the counter. They opened ALL his mail.
“What the ever loving fuck?!” His voice started out low and ended in a shout of fury. He held a half empty bag of coffee in his hand. “You’re going through my mail, now? Are you all out of your collective fuckin’ minds?!”
“Language…!” Steve sprang to his feet to bending a cold, censorious look on the genius.
“Shove it up your ass, how’s that for language?!” Tony fixed blazing eyes on the super soldier and advanced stiff-legged into the room.
Steve’s eyes narrowed dangerously but Tony didn’t notice he was walking on thin ice.
That, right there, was why Steve ultimately decided to bench Iron Man. While he didn’t mind his teammates challenging his decisions (he wasn’t some tinpot dictator, no matter what Tony claimed), what he had a problem with was Tony’s constant need to have some kind of input on nearly every one of his decisions. And when Steve tried to ignore him, Tony would inevitably fly off and ignore all orders to come back. The billionaire’s monstrous ego always had to come into play, so Tony could play the ‘hero’ coming to save the day.
If Tony wanted to be a ‘hero’ so badly, he needed to go and get his own team, Steve thought with a hidden smirk.
He tuned back in to hear more of Stark’s ranting. “So now, you’re opening my mail? Mail that has my name on it? Is the oh-so righteous morally superior Captain lowering himself to the federal crime of mail tampering?”
Steve crossed his arms and sighed with audible impatience. He was hard-pressed to avoid rolling his eyes.
Half the time he was sure Stark didn’t mean to cause so much chaos; however, there was a darker part of him that wondered if Stark was doing it deliberately to make him and the others look bad in the eyes of the public. They were still eyed askance, but he was pleased to note that, though it was slow going, they were beginning to recapture a bit of their former approval rating. No thanks to Stark. He knew the man was behind all the negative press.
But this thing with Stark...it had to stop. All anybody was trying to do was help Stark’s constant misguidedness. The man should be thankful he had so many people trying to look out for his best interests.
So he deliberately shook off his anger and tried to tune Stark out.
Clint didn’t bother changing his lazy sprawl or take his eyes from the big-screen, mounted television. “Take it down a notch, ya little bitch,” he replied dismissively, brushing aside Stark’s visible outrage with an airy wave of his hand. “We’re just trying to make sure you’re not up to your old tricks.”
“Besides, we were all out of coffee and I knew you had a secret stash,” Sam dared to say. Like Clint, he was sprawled out in a comfortably overstuffed chair. “Jesus, how did you guys stand living with him?” he muttered in an aside to Clint.
The archer shrugged. He really had no answer to give Sam.
Tony visibly goggled at them, momentarily silenced by the complete and utter bullshit remarks. He honestly felt...hurt. Wasn’t it enough that he provided them a place to live, rent-free, food and he even deposited money into their accounts so they didn’t have to work. And they wanted more?
What the ever loving fuck?
Wanda joined the conversation, unable to resist adding her two cents in. She shook her long, fiery locks over a narrow shoulder to better fix a reproachful stare on the genius inventor. Her large, doe-like eyes were made even more expressive on her thin, elfin-like face. “Trust me, it has not been easy.” Her European accent gave her words an exotic, intriguing lilt. “Thankfully, he chose to leave after creating his murderbot.” She shuddered dramatically. “I wish he would have remained gone as it is getting tiresome dealing with his pettiness and outsized ego. There is always some new drama with Stark,” she finished, flicking her fingers dismissively.
Clint snickered nastily at the look on the tech genius’ face, his slate-blue eyes sparkling with malice. Stark’s eyes were so wide, he thought they would fall out of his head. Which would be a pity, because how else would he create more toys for them?
“Tony, please stop acting like some kind of prima donna.” Natasha infused her words with a soft, weariness. “You really need to tone down the ego.” Her tone changed to one of slight condescension. “As much as we all wish otherwise, we have to share this place. Which means we pool our resources. So stop with the childish pettiness, you’re too old and it’s not a good look for you anyway.”
Tony inhaled, nearly staggering back at the sheer effrontery of her remark. “How in the hell can you even fix your mouth to say such bullshit?” he said in a strangled voice.
Natasha’s mouth tightened grimly, her face abruptly losing all emotion, becoming the dangerously neutral Black Widow mask.
Tony didn’t notice, finally having lost all ability to give any more fuckd. “Jesus, you are all fuckin’ insane,” he remarked in a faint voice. “That’s gotta be it...I’m living in a goddamn insane asylum and you’re all the inmates.” He turned to go, but Clint couldn’t resist one final chance to rub it in.
“Oh, hey, that food you put in the fridge last night…? Delicious!” He kissed his fingers with an exuberant noise before breaking ready laughter. He leaned over to high-five a chuckling Sam. “You gotta order more.”
Nat shook her head, looking tired. “Tony, I’m only telling you this as a friend, you need to check the ego and pettiness at the door...we’re Avengers, we’re all equal here.”
Wanda snorted in derision, her face alight with scorn. “He truly does not know how to be anything other than petty.” She flipped through another page of her magazine, her eyes alight at a rather gorgeous dress. “Or equal.”
It was because she was still looking at him, that Nat thought she saw something move across Tony’s face. It may have been a trick of light, but she felt an abrupt fission of alarm.
“You think I’m petty? That my...ego, is it, you think it’s out of control?” Tony’s smile was a caricature of his usual glib smile. “Well, alrighty then.”
“FRIDAY, could you bring my car around, I think I’d like to go for a little spin,” Tony said aloud. The others watched the tech genius stroll from the room. Only Natasha felt a certain sense of unease.
“What do you think he’s going to do?” Scott, the only one that had remained silent, finally spoke up.
“Nothing, what else can he do?” Wanda looked at the engineer with a faint look of surprise on her pretty face. Scott looked at her sprawled on the floor with a catalog of a store he knew was expensive.
“Seriously? I dunno,” he replied quietly, before getting up and walking away. “But I think you’re all about to find out,” he muttered under his breath.
Steve, the only one that heard, frowned after the engineer.
He shook his head sadly.
Scott simply wasn’t gelling with the team; he held himself aloof and made little attempt to get along. Worse, he spent too much time working on projects with Tony, even starting to pick up some of Tony’s bad habits, like questioning him. Perhaps it was time to re-evaluated Lang’s membership as well; the man brought little to nothing to the team as a whole.
Tooling along in his shiny red Jaguar and heading towards the city, Tony allowed the wind to blow the cobwebs from his mind. For several timeless minutes he expertly drove with the same careless assurance that he piloted the Iron Man armor. He always enjoyed the rush of speed, the wind in his hair and the freedom of the open road.
After several minutes, he began making calls. By the time he reached the city and was heading towards the Tower, it was all done.
The movers were already on their way; Happy would take charge of the operation, meeting the movers at the Compound.
Because while he had been standing there, listening to those assholes try to verbally castrate him, Tony had a kind of epiphany.
Maybe it was time he showed them just how petty and egotistical he truly could be.
Two days later, things began happening.
It began almost innocently enough.
Wanda oohed softly as she stared at the naughty pieces of strings masquerading as night attire. Scrambling, she raced to show Natasha. The other red-head was giving her tips on ways to entice Vision back to her side.
Indulgently Natasha examined the pretty bit of nothingness before smiling broadly at the young woman. “Remember, whatever you do, it’s got to be almost casual, letting him see you in this,” she cautioned the girl. Reaching out, she tucked a long strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear. “You’re young, delicate and sweet...play to that advantage.”
The young woman flushed delightedly and put the item in her online shopping cart and followed the instructions towards checking out. It was a place she had spent hundreds of dollars before so there was no need to input her credit card info. She squirmed with excitement and anticipation as she clicked the ‘checkout’ button.
Contentedly she returned to her room, tablet in hand, and logged into another shopping site. Not bothering to check the prices of the items she wanted, she simply began putting them directly into her ‘shopping cart’. By the time FRIDAY alerted her to dinner, she had amassed well over several thousand dollars worth of clothing. Popping over to the checkout, she quickly plugged in her credit card info and clicked the ‘checkout’ button.
Getting up, she opened her closet and made a sour face. Her eyes easily glossed over the items that still had price tags, remnants of her last shopping trip with Natasha. Sighing impatiently, the young woman shut the door before turning and surveying her room with critical eyes. She needed a room with a much bigger closet.
Nodding to herself, she made a note to tell Steve. He always made sure she got what she deserved.
Four days later, shit really began hitting the fan, in small undetectable ways.
Of course, had Wanda or Steve checked their emails regularly, they may have become aware of the building problem.
Interestingly enough, it began with the tiniest of issues.
“What the hell?” Sam exclaimed, entering the kitchen area. He came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a large concentration of tiny flying insects perched all over the cabinets and walls. Angrily he shooed them away. Grabbing a paper towel and gingerly sliding a half-eaten apple into the garbage, he nearly gagged as a multitude of fruit flies took to the air at his motion.
The apple rolled off the overstuffed garbage and onto the floor with a nasty, wet smack.
Sam paused to regard the kitchen with more than a little dismay. It was utterly filthy. Dishes were piled in the sink, coffee grounds were all over the countertop and floor; worse, there wasn’t even any fresh coffee. “Goddamn that Stark, where the hell is his lazy ass?”
Wanda wandered into the kitchen, yawning widely then began sputtering and spitting, having caught a faceful of gnats. Sam watched the young woman with some utter disbelief as she spat repeatedly on the floor. When finished, Wanda delicately stepped over the mess with a moue of distaste.
She sat heavily on one of the breakfast stools and buried her head in her folded arms. “Oh, I didn’t get to sleep until two am this morning,” she remarked dolefully then brightened, “but I just ordered this gorgeous necklace! It is so pretty!”
“Seriously…? You’re not even gonna clean that up?” Sam asked incredulously. “Girl, you just spit on the floor...that’s just nasty!”
Wanda stared at him in wide-eyed shock.
“What’s nasty?” Clint yawned then he was gagging and spitting, but he rushed to the sink. Unfortunately there were a large number of fruit flies that had collected on the dishes in the sink. They scattered upwards into his face. “Argh…!” The archer bellowed, clapping a hand on the eye. Ignoring the insects for the moment, Clint turned on the water and quickly rinsed his mouth, spitting the contents into the sink and onto the dishes.
Sam watched this in complete disbelief.
“What’s all the commotion…?” Steve strode into the kitchen to question, halting in disbelief when he almost lost his balance on something slick on the floor. “What the…?” He lifted his foot to see what he stepped in.
Sam pointed a finger at Wanda, a pissy look on his face. “Got all these damn bugs flying around, and Wanda almost swallowed one. Then Little-Miss-Raised-in-a-Barn,” one of his grandma’s more colorful phrases, “spit all over the floor getting it out. Right where you just stepped,” he added with dark humor.
Steve’s face screwed up in disgust. “Wanda…!”
“This is not my fault!” The young woman, her face indignant, instantly denying any wrongdoing. “It is that stupid Stark’s fault! He’s the one that hires such lazy workers!” Disdainfully, she flicked a finger at a discarded wrapper on the counter. It had been sitting there for a couple days now; she should know, she was the one that had left it there.
Natasha slipped into the kitchen, a faint frown on her too-pretty face, having heard the commotion. “The cleaners should have been here yesterday,” she murmured almost to herself. Suddenly her eyes sharpened. “Wanda, didn’t you say you had a problem with your credit card? When did it occur?”
“Two days ago…” the Sokovian young woman replied sullenly. “I left a message with Stark’s computer to fix the problem.”
“And I told you, Ms. Maximoff, there is no problem with the card,” FRIDAY replied coolly, an unmistakable distance in her voice.
“Then what is the problem?!” Wanda sounded frustrated.
“Save for your personal checking accounts, all services and credit cards for Avenger Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff, Samuel Wilson and Scott Lang were canceled as of five days ago.” How a computer program could emote so much pleasure, Sam would never understand.
Steve alternately paled then flushed with fury. “He can’t do that!” he sharply exclaimed, drawing himself up to his full height.
“As it is his money, I believe he can, indeed, do whatever he wants,” FRIDAY replied helpfully. This time, Sam knew he didn’t imagine the smile in the AI’s voice.
“I’ve had enough of his ridiculousness!” There was a cold, angry look in the super soldier’s snapping blue eyes. “FRIDAY, get Tony on the phone,” he barked sharply.
“Certainly…”
“Steve, be careful,” Natasha warned the super soldier quietly. Her green eyes were narrowed. “You have to play this just right or you’ll risk pushing him too far.”
“Oh, I know just what I’m going to say,” Steve stated grimly. His arms were crossed intimidatingly over his broad chest. In fact, he presented a powerful, formidably righteous figure that would quell the faint heart.
Scott wandered in, a packet of instant coffee in one hand and a coffee mug in the other hand. Covering his mouth, he yawned as he ran water in the mug and popped it in the microwave. “Hey, ‘sup guys,” he said hoarsely.
“Stark had a tantrum and cut off all our credit cards and services,” Wanda said disgustedly.
The microwave dinged, Scott extracted his cup of hot water and poured his coffee in the water. He took a sip, slowly waking. “Yeah…he sent a memo that he was deactivating your cards a couple days ago, didn’t you read it?”
“Wait, you said ‘your’ cards.” Natasha closed on the engineer, her eyes narrowed and predatory.
Scott suddenly looked wary. “Yeah, some of my accounts are still active since I help repair your equipment.”
“Then we can use whatever accounts Scott has,” Wanda looked suddenly more cheerful at that thought.
Scott laughed derisively. “Yeah, no; that’s definitely not gonna happen!” he replied pleasantly. Taking a sip of his coffee, he made a face but since he hadn’t had time to hit the store this was going to have to do.
He went into exile with these assholes, almost lost everything of value...hell, no was he going to risk this last opportunity. He was fully aware he was on thin ice with Maggie as she had made it very clear that this was his last and final chance. If he fuck this chance up in any way, shape, form or size without a damn good excuse (Cap needed me, was so very not valid) then she would sever his parental rights, justifiable citing his unfitness as a parent.
He wasn’t going down the same road as Clint, who didn’t even KNOW where his kids were as his ex-wife obtained a divorce decree in absentia and had vanished with their kids. Nope, he had too much to lose to fuck around with this shit again.
Stark had given him two opportunities--a pardon and a job. He had no intention of tossing either aside again just because ‘Cap said so’.
His face hardened minutely as he stared at them. “Let me be clear...my accounts are used exclusively for ordering supplies and fixing your equipment. I have a small budget for food when I get involved with projects but that’s it.” He spread his hands eloquently, still wearing a pleasant, neutral expression. “Also, my accounts are very closely monitored. That means if you mess this up for me, cost me visitation rights with my little girl---I seriously don’t care what law I have to break because I will fuck. Up. Your. World.” Though his voice and face still held a disturbing mildness, there was something in his eyes that gave the others fleeting pause. “I know where all the bodies are buried and I will have absolutely no problem spilling every little thing I know about every one of you.”
Clint made a scoffing noise, his face disdainful. “C’mon…what’s the worst Stark could do to you?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Scott replied with irreverent cheer as he moved towards the exit, “but you will not be using my accounts or me to fuck Tony Stark over, that much I guarantee. Also, you probably shouldn’t try to fuck over the person responsible for your weapons or armor. I’m not Stark…I will fuck you up if you try to fuck me over. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m working on your arrows, Clint.” He smiled deliberately at the archer before he vanished down the hallway and to the elevator.
He left a frustrated, angry silence behind.
Steve sighed and scrubbed a hand restlessly over his face. “I’ll let him calm down before talking to him and getting his card. Lang’s a good guy, he knows we all have to pull together.”
“And if he doesn’t? What are we gonna do?” Sam looked to Steve, then around at his other teammates.
The captain’s square jaw hardened by imperceptible means. “He will.”
Staring at Steve’s indomitable face, Sam felt a moment of pity for Scott.
A listening FRIDAY gleefully notified Lang and Boss; Tony offered the man space in the Tower. Scott happily took Stark up on the offer. He was packed and out of the Compound in under an hour.
Best of all, Maggie relented slightly. He was soon having two-hour video calls with his baby girl.