The Mechanic
They were one hour out from the motel when the next problem arose.
Wanda had been driving for over thirty minutes, getting her last bit of practice in before the mission. Sam was in the passenger seat, monitoring her driving and watching out for any more idiots on the road. Scott himself was in the back, sitting beside Tony. They hadn't stopped for breakfast, just kept driving because, according to Sam, 1) they needed as much spare time as they could get and 2) Tony might wake up if they stopped, though that was a more unspoken reason. Scott understood it by the glances Sam made at the genius during his 'spare time' reasoning. They instead filled themselves on more snacks and drinks, making sure to set some aside for the billionaire. At some point, Sam decided they actually needed to clean up the wrappers and empty bottles from the trip and found a bag to stuff it all in. If Scott forgot about the mission, the tension, and that morning, he could almost say it was a regular, domestic road trip like the ones he went on with family when he was younger.
The morning's incident was still on Scott's mind. That vacant look to Tony's eyes and the fear etched in his face was something he would probably never forget. Every Avenger had their demons, he knew. They'd been through so much. Whenever he stayed at the Avengers Compound, he would sometimes catch teammates awake at four in the morning, watching television or drawing or reading, but not really paying attention to what they were doing. They all shared that same look Tony had - that vacancy as they tried to come back from the horrors in their minds. Scott always tried to quietly retreat, not wanting them to know he was there. Not because he didn't want to help, but because he didn't know how. Not knowing them well enough was part of it - there was also leaving them alone in case they didn't want to talk about it or would feel awkward with him there. Sometimes, he thought they noticed him and allowed him to retreat. With others, he would be called over to interact, mainly to play video games. It brought them out of their heads and Scott was glad to help whenever he was able. He used to not be so grateful for his night owl tendencies, but seeing them come back to life with laughter during Mario Kart made it all worth it.
With Tony, there hadn't been a possibility of retreat while in the car. With Tony, he was barely present enough to notice Scott. With Tony, he had no clue what to do. (He'd never seen him in the common areas - he barely saw him there during daylight hours.) All he could do was pull the car off to the side of the road and do what he could to help while internally (and externally) worrying. He tried not to panic. It didn't work.
It had been six hours since then and Tony had barely moved a muscle. Sam might have been right in his assumption: Tony hadn't been entirely awake during his....flashback? Nightmare? Whatever it was, he hadn't been fully aware. His body demanded the sleep, refused to allow him lengthy consciousness, and Scott didn't know if that was good or bad. It was good in the context of the dark circles slowly disappearing. It was bad when put together with what had to be going on in his brain during sleep.
Unashamedly, Scott had kept a close eye on Tony since he swapped spots with their temporary leader, watching for any signs of distress or waking. So far, there'd been nothing aside from the occasional fidgeting of his hands under Sam's jacket. His face was mostly lax - he had a seemingly permanent pinch around his eyes, stressed even in sleep. His head hadn't moved from the somewhat awkwardly tilted position against the headrest. Scott wanted to be relieved that he was getting rest, but the stillness and the events of the morning kept him tense in his seat, ready to jump at the first sign of obvious wrong.
And wrong did happen. Just not with Tony.
"What is that?" Wanda asked. She'd barely spoken today and her voice was incredibly quiet when she did. Her question, while quiet, held a tone of uncertain fear. Not one of an Avenger before battle, but of a new driver's anxiety with a two ton machine. It put Scott's nerves further on end.
Sam leaned over the console, peering at the gages beyond the wheel. "The check engine light is on." He noted. "Pull over at this next gas station, Wanda." As the woman turned on the blinker, Sam looked over his shoulder at Scott. His eyes briefly bounced to Tony. "Wake him up."
"What if it's nothing?" Scott asked. Cars could be finicky. Turning it on and off again might solve the problem, or they might need to make the rest of the way to the motel on an anxious prayer. If they broke down on the side of the road, people would notice and their cover would be blown.
"I told Tony I would wake him up if something happened. This is definitely something." Sam replied. It was obvious that he didn't want to wake the genius up, but the need to keep his promise outweighed the slightest betrayal. Scott found himself nodding, turning to Tony as the car slowed to a halt. Wanda and Sam clambered out, the latter taking one last look at them before shutting his door.
Scott reached out to shake Tony's shoulder, then thought better of it. "Tony." He said in a normal voice. When that didn't work, he spoke louder. "Tony, wake up." He punctuated it with a light poke to the arm. The other man's eyelids twitched. "Mr. Stark-"
An annoyed mumble cut him off. "I told you not to call me that."
Scott was temporarily frozen, watching as his newfound friend pulled his eyes open. They were clouded with sleep and Tony was obviously in that half-confused, half-aware state that came with waking up after long periods of sleep. It was far different from how he'd snapped awake earlier, eyes blown wide in fear before becoming vacant. This time, brown eyes held a distinct awareness, slow assessment, and none of the fear. Scott felt himself relax marginally, an easy smile pulling at the edge of his lips. "Needed to wake you up somehow."
"Just call me by my name."
"I did. It didn't work."
A flicker of surprise appeared on his face before it was shut down. "I would rather you yell at me than call me 'Mr. Stark.' Makes me feel old."
"Aren't you like fifty?" Scott couldn't help but shoot back.
Tony mustered a glare. It was dampened by his recently-awakened haze. "If you ever say that again, I will fill your pillowcase with actual ants."
"Good luck. They would do my bidding."
The man stared at him, brow furrowing and mouth slightly pinched. Scott felt like he was being studied and it took all his willpower not to drop his smirk. "Would they?" Tony finally asked. "Or would they rebel against your rule and overthrow you in your sleep?"
"They would love me."
"Sure." Tony shrugged, making Sam's jacket fall to his waist. He looked at it with a mixture of shock and confusion, seeming to have no noticed it was there. After a beat, he pushed it off of him and into the floorboard. Scott decided not to comment. "What's wrong with the car?" He asked, rubbing at his eye with a fist while his other hand tried and failed to smooth out his hair. His attention had shifted away from Scott and ahead of them, where Sam had the hood up and Wanda standing off beside him, her hands folded tightly in front of her.
"Something about the check engine light coming on."
He undid his seatbelt. "How far are we from the motel?"
"About an hour, I think. Maybe a little less."
"And we can't take public transit." Tony mumbled, likely speaking more to himself than Scott. "I'll grab the toolbox."
"You brought a toolbox?" Scott wasn't sure why he was so surprised.
He got an eyebrow raise in return. "What good mechanic doesn't bring a toolbox everywhere?" Scott didn't get the chance to answer as Tony pushed his door open. He scrambled to follow him, meeting Tony at the trunk. When he glanced ahead, he found Wanda looking at them. When their eyes met, she averted her gaze. He could just barely see Sam leaned over the engine.
Tony popped the trunk open, revealing the spare tire and their bags. For their four personal bags, they had unintentionally color coded them: Wanda's the deep pinkish red like the hue of her powers, Tony's a blue that matched his arc reactor, Sam's a dark blue and white, and Scott's a dark red with black lines. There was an large, heavy duty suitcase of Tony's crammed against the right side and Scott recalled her comment about a "spoiled billionaire." The luggage had barely been moved aside from when they needed a change of clothes, but now Tony was moving them, shifting them forward until he could reach the very back. He did something with his hand and a rectangular panel made itself visible. It slid open, revealing a red and gold suitcase as well as the standard handyman's toolbox.
Scott couldn't help but breathe out a "Woah."
"Just because I don't like the Honda doesn't mean I can't upgrade it a little bit." Tony sent a smirk his way, grabbing the toolbox. "It's not owned by Tony Stark if it doesn't have the Tony Stark touch. I made the trunk space smaller to create the hiding spot, but it's worth it."
"Is it to keep the suit hidden?" He would never admit that, despite his words dropping to a whisper, his voice picked up an octave. He might have been fanboying just a little bit. Or a lot. (Don't tell Hank.) He'd seen the old recordings of the events in Monacco nearly a decade ago. All civillian phone footage was wildly shaky and crummy with newer age electronics, and the recordings by official news crews, while clearer, were running with their cameras, but there was no mistaking how epic it was when Tony Stark suited up to battle a lightning wielding Anton Vanko.
"Yep." He tapped spot just above the opening and the panel shifted back in place, taking the view of the suit with it. He'd known Tony had packed a suit - it just hadn't occurred to Scott how. The mission was all subtlety, but, as Tony had said two days earlier when Sam asked why he had brought armor, 'You never know when you need an explosion.' Tony shut the trunk. "It can only be opened by certain people, like you."
"I can open it?"
"Yeah." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "Don't get any ideas, Lang. It's only a last resort for someone else to use the suit. I would have to be entirely out of comission or-"
"I can use the suit?" He barely restrained himself from screaming, his fanboy meter going to the sky.
Tony huffed a laugh. "In emergencies, Tic-Tac. Emergencies."
"Right," he cleared his throat, forcing himself to calm down, "right, got it."
"It would be a little different than me using the suit." He advised, taking on a more serious tone. "It's designed to fit me without much room for error. The pieces would have to shuffle themselves to adjust for another build. If someone's smaller, like Pep, it tends to be easier, but someone like Cap? Not going to work as well."
Scott nodded quickly, barely restraining himself from fanboying again. It didn't matter if the suit wouldn't perfectly fit him. The idea that he could even use it was... He couldn't describe the feeling. He never thought anyone besides Tony and his inner circle would be able to use his beloved suit. The fact that he was able to was both exciting and confusing. What was it for Tony? An order? Obligation? Practicality in battle?
Or was it a little bit of trust?
Whatever it was, Scott wasn't going to misuse it. "Understood."
"Good." He looked Scott up and down, brow furrowing. "I suppose it would work well with you." As far as build and height went, they weren't that much different. Scott was only the barest inch taller. "Maybe I'll let you give it a go sometime."
Forget the sky. His fanboy meter went to the end of the universe. He couldn't help his wild grin. "That is so cool-"
The sound of the engine cut him off as the car shuddered to life beside them. Wanda was in the driver's seat, some of her red hair spilling out the open window. Sam was still standing near the hood, brow pinched. Tony moved ahead, leaving Scott to follow, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself.
"Is the light still on?" Both Tony and Sam asked.
"Um," Wanda stuck her head out the window, hair moving as she looked between the two men. "Yes?"
"Alright, cut it off." Tony said. Wanda was quick to follow the instruction, the car going dormant once more. "What's the problem, Temporary Steve?"
"Honestly?" Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "I have zero clue."
"Good thing you have me then." He slipped by Sam to stand directly in front of the car. He sat his toolbox on the edge and gave the engine a once-over, rolling up his sleeves. "Give me a few minutes. Scott, come hold the flashlight. The hood is casting bad shade."
Sam stepped away, allowing Scott to take his place. He accepted the industrial flashlight Tony handed him. "Where-"
"Right here." Tony pointed and Scott angled the light. It was hard to keep his hands still after the earlier excitement - he might get to fly the suit! "Steady, man. Be a better assistant than Dum-E." In spite of his words, there was an obvious fondness there. Scott's brief time in the lab taught him quite a few things, and one of those things was his fondness for his bots and AIs.
"Dum-E holds the flashlight?" It was hard to think of the fire extinguisher wielding bot as a flashlight assistant.
"Yes, though he sometimes tries to blind me with it. He's better with a magnifying glass."
"Or a fire extinguisher?" He asked cheekily.
"Shut up." Tony rolled his eyes. "There's been one or two times he was right."
"And the other few thousand times?"
The response was a muttered, "I got good at cleaning up foam."
Scott didn't hold back his laugh at that.
Ten minutes later, Tony removed his dirtied hands from the engine's innards and straightened. "Try it now, Wanda." He called. The continued use of her first name wasn't missed by Scott. Wanda got back in the driver's seat and cut the car on. "Is it still there?"
"It's not."
"Good." He grabbed his toolbox and shut the hood. Scott held out the flashlight. After a moment of hesitance, Tony accepted it. "I'll put this back and we'll get on the road."
Scott followed him to the trunk again, watching him open the compartment once more. "Why do you hide the toolbox?" He asked curiously. He completely understood the suit, but why the tools?
"I don't like people touching my stuff." He replied. "Ask Thor how we met next time he's on planet. I'm sure he can explain."
"But your suit is part of your stuff?"
Tony shut the trunk after putting everything away. "It's different if I give you permission. Otherwise, don't touch my stuff or I'll sic Dum-E on you."
Scott held his hands up in surrender, a shudder sweeping up his spine at the idea of the bot chasing him around with his wild fire extinguisher. "Noted."
"I got drinks!" Sam called. He'd disappeared into the small gas station store at some point and was now walking toward them, a yellow plastic bag full of soda and water on his arm.
"Did you get me a coke?" Tony asked. "Regular, not that diet crap."
"I think I grabbed one of everything." He pulled out a coke and tossed it. Tony caught it easily, spinning off the cap and downing half the bottle. It occurred to Scott that he'd had nothing to drink or eat since he fell asleep, so over twelve hours now. He must've been ravenous by now.
"I like how you think." The genius said when he finished.
Sam snorted, then eyed the genius's hands. The bandage from days ago was long gone, but Scott could spot the scabbed cut among the black marks from the engine. "Clean up your hands before you get in the car." He reached into his bag again and pulled out a water bottle and napkins. He wrapped the napkins around the bottle, condensation making them stick, and tossed it to Tony. He was forced to catch it with his left hand, the other occupied with the coke.
"Yes, Mom." Tony grumbled, placing the coke on the car. He opened the water bottle and poured some on his hands, then used the damp napkins to wipe off the grime. Scott found himself drifting to Sam's side, rifling through the bag until he found an orange drink.
"How's he doing?" Sam murmured, eyes flicking between Scott and Tony.
"Fine, I think." Scott took a swig of his drink. "Fixed the engine."
Their temporary captain nodded, a small, relieved smile forming. The tension Scott hadn't noticed before fell out off his shoulders. "We'll reach the motel soon."
"What do we do until then?"
Sam picked out a pink lemonade from the bag, briefly meeting Scott's eyes. "We figure out a plan for tonight." He paused, lowering his voice further. "Does he remember....?"
Scott shrugged, drink turning sour in his stomach. "I don't know."
"Are my hands clean enough for you?" Tony's question almost made the ant-themed hero jump out of his skin. The genius was holding up his hands, twisting his wrists to show both sides. The crumbled napkins and half-full drinks were on the car.
"They're fine, Tony." Sam responded. "I don't think Wanda wants to drive anymore. Do you-"
"Want to drive? Entirely." He grabbed his stuff and headed to the front. Wanda got out of the vehicle, her and Tony sharing a single look before she was switching to the seat behind him. At least they weren't arguing anymore. The sunglasses conversation had done them good.
"What do we say-"
Sam cut him off, voice gentle but stern. "We say nothing unless he says something. If he doesn't want to talk about it, that's up to him." When Scott nodded, Sam gestured to the car. "Let's get going. I'll get back in the front-"
Scott rushed forward. "I call shotgun!"
"Hey! No fair!"
"You're too slow, Temporary Steve!" He called over his shoulder, reaching the car door two steps ahead of their leader. He recieved a playful shove in return and laughter from not just Sam, but Tony and Wanda. The latter was quieter about it, but her tentative smile made up for the volume.
"You're a rotten egg, Sam." Tony joked, shifting the car into drive.
"Ha ha." Sam replied sarcastically. Scott could hear the smile in it. "Let's just get going."
"Aye aye, Captain Rotten Egg."
As they broke into another fit of laughter, Scott couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, they could be a team.