tony stark takes a swim
Steve was smitten. He was enthralled. He was head-over-heels for this kid—and no, it’s not just because of his dark brown hair and piercing, soulful brown eyes. It was so much more than just his looks.
It was his charisma, his confidence. His snark and his fast moving brain that he tried desperately to conceal from the rest of the world that had betrayed him so. Steve loved watching the boy tell his stories about his asshole of a father and his horrible experiences; not because of the stories themselves, God no. It was because of that damn voice. That gorgeous laugh.
Tony Stark.
Steve is no poet, that’s for damn sure. It’s just that whenever he saw Stark, he would be able to write sonnets based on how the boy makes him feel. Like he was a little schoolboy with a crush. It was embarrassing.
Steve wanted to fucking die.
How could he do that to Bucky? The love of his life, his best friend and boyfriend, the guy who’s been there for Steve since the beginning? Steve was actively betraying everything that a relationship should be built off of. Trust, complete and utter commitment, and so much more.
It nagged at him—it made him feel incredibly, incredibly guilty for the first few days of Stark’s presence. Steve didn’t know why he was feeling this way; and it fucking killed him. He’d never had issues with being attracted to other people than Bucky before. Not even when the most perfect girl in the world, Sharon Carter, admitted her crush on Steve in sixth grade. It was the same week he had kissed Bucky at the top of the Rip Tide Rocket at Universal Studios. But Steve had remained faithful to Bucky despite that, because he knew how good he had it—he still does. Bucky is everything he’s ever wanted and more. He’s his rock. They fit perfectly, like puzzle pieces.
But Stark is a special case.
Steve didn’t—he would never break up with his boyfriend, alright? That’s not what he was suggesting at all. Honestly, he didn’t even know what he was doing. All he knew was that this couldn’t. Go. On.
He just needed to get over this little—infatuation with Stark. That’s all. Then, everything would fall back into place perfectly. They’d all leave at the end of the summer and that would be that.
Then, he noticed something... interesting.
Bucky would stare at Tony for seconds too long, sometimes. It wasn’t in an innocent, inconspicuous way either. He stared at Tony the exact same way he stared at Steve. Like—Like he was in love, or something.
So, obviously, something was up. He couldn’t be mad at Bucky about it, either. That would‘ve been plain hypocritical.
A day or two went by of the same pattern before Steve decided that enough was enough.
“Woah, woah, woah, babe,” Bucky grinned as Steve shoved him into a storage shed and against the wall, locking the door behind them. The Emmaus cabin had been walking through the camp and to the canoe station, probably clueless to the couple’s disappearance as they continued walking. “I thought we agreed that we would wait a while before—“
“Shut up,” Steve hissed, facepalming. “Just—Just shut up, Buck.”
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?! What’s wrong?! I think we both know what’s wrong!”
“Babe, what—“
“Stark,” he groaned, the only explanation needed for Bucky.
The boy’s eyes grew wide as saucers, face morphing into a horrified expression as if he’s been slapped in the face. Looking back, Steve can only imagine the thoughts running through Bucky’s head. He blinked.
“Oh.”
His hands, cupped in Steve’s, went clammy.
“Oh,” Bucky repeated.
Steve felt bad. A part of him felt somewhat relieved that he wasn’t the only one, that he wasn’t alone. Tony had this sort of effect on the both of them.
The other part of him felt ashamed, embarrassed about it, so he hesitated to tell his own truth.
“I know that you like him.”
His boyfriend squeezed Steve’s hands in his, some attempt at reassurance, and it was scary. This conversation could make or break their relationship depending on how either of them react.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky wavered. His voice cracked. “I—I can’t lie to you, Stevie. I’m so... You—You’re the only one I want, believe me!”
“I know that. You’re the only one I want, too.”
“I promise. Look, I... I want to be with you. I literally love you more than anything. I just think that’s Stark’s only cute. Uhm, fuck—fuck, I didn’t—oh my god, I’ll just shut up, now—“
Steve pats at Bucky’s chest, tiredly. “Buck. Buck, listen to me. I’m not mad.”
“Please don’t break up with me,” he sobs.
“I’m not—Buck, stop crying—I’m not gonna break up with you, my god. I already said that I’m not mad!”
“Why not?!”
He huffs. “Look, I... don’t know how to tell you this, babe.”
“Just tell me. It can’t be bad.”
“I don’t know if...”
“I know you, Steve, please. What’s going on?”
Steve ran a hand through his hair.
“I like him, too,” he murmured.
—
Buck and him had made an arrangement, of sorts. Woo Stark into liking—or at least tolerating—the both of them, while they made it extremely clear where their interest was. For the most part, their plan had gone fine. Tony was getting more comfortable around them, getting more touchy feely when it came to affection. At some point, the three of them snuggled on the floor while listening to Scott rant about how Shrek is a cinematic masterpiece. That was a good night.
It was the same night that Tony’s sleeve rolled up just a little too high as he reached for the bag of Doritos on the floor. Bucky hadn’t noticed, but Steve sure did.
Ugly, blotchy yellow bruises painted the boy’s olive skin. It was like they engulfed his arm, and that’s just what Steve could see a few inches up his wrist! There was probably more, and probably on the other arm, as well.
Steve told Bucky the next day; he decided that it wasn’t his battle to fight. He’d probably end up pushing Stark’s buttons and saying the wrong things. Bucky is better about that kind of shit.
The two had a discussion about it, apparently, and Tony had reluctantly confirmed the existence of said bruises on his arms. He had, however, utterly refused to roll up his sleeves or tell Bucky what the source of the injuries was, but Steve thinks it’s pretty obvious. No one had brought it up again; a little secret between the three of them.
Things were going fine—it was an easy pattern.
Until, however, Pepper Potts had thrown herself into the mix.
From the very first day, Steve had known that Tony had an eye for the girl, that was certain. Those feelings never really left even as the days went on. Things grew tense between Steve, Bucky and Pepper when she openly admitted to Sam that she was interested in taking Tony for herself. Sam, obviously, had told the couple out of loyalty to his friends. Tony still has no clue about that whole ordeal—they never told him and he never caught on.
Then, for some reason, the billionaire’s son became more distant in the day or so before the ‘incident.’ It broke Steve and Bucky’s hearts, not that they admitted it to anyone but themselves. Sam and Clint noticed their sorrow, however, and tried cheering them up.
“Maybe Tony isn’t even worth it,” Clint said, wrapping a bandage around his arm from his third scrape of the week. “Come on. Since the beginning, we’ve known he was a big player, and Pepper isn’t exactly an ugly girl—“
“She’s gorgeous,” Bucky argued. “That’s the problem!”
“Did Tony even swing that way before you all?”
“He said he was bi. He’s had established relationships with boys before.”
Sam scratched his chin thoughtfully.
“Maybe—Maybe he’s having some sorta, like, internal homophobia type of shit. Maybe he feels like he’s compelled to be with a girl, and maybe he’s scared because he’s actually falling for y’all, so he’s shooting his shot with Pepper because she’s the closest option who likes him too.”
Clint and Bucky blinked at him with an unimpressed look.
“Hm,” Steve said, and that was that.
—
LAST NIGHT, 4AM
“Guys?” yawns Bruce, slowly pushing his head off his pillow as the rest of the cabin groans in disruption. “What is that?”
Thor dramatically falls onto the floor with a heap. “Ughhhhhhhh—“
“What time is it?” groans Scott.
“Four,” Rhodey says.
“Guys,” Bruce repeats, beginning to tug his blanket off as he climbs down from his bunk. “Listen outside. What is that?”
Sirens. Loud and blaring, driving right past the cabin area, from the sound of it. Sirens aren’t an unusual thing to hear at night, really—police cars and fire trucks drive through the road right outside of the camp all the time.
Tonight, however, the sirens are loud and obnoxious, driving straight and echoing into the entire camp like a warning horn. Bruce peeks out the window. Sam does the same.
“It’s... police cars, and ambulances—shit. A lot of them.”
“I wonder what it is.”
Bucky, warily, bent down to his boyfriend’s bed. Steve had barely grasped consciousness when everyone else had, still rubbing his eyes and mumbling to himself. Bucky nudges his cheek and slides his arms under the boy’s body, lifting him up and holding him bridal style.
“Maybe,” Rhodey says slowly, “We should just go back to b—“
“Wait. Where’s Tony?” Scott asks.
After a pause, Rhodey jumps into his shoes and sprints out the door.
—
EIGHT HOURS LATER
“I’m sorry,” Thor says wetly, cupping Bruce’s face in his hands as they stand by Hela’s open car trunk, all of the teenagers helping load his belongings into the vehicle.
“I’m gonna miss you,” Bruce cries.
Rhodey lets out a ragged sigh as he hauls Loki’s obnoxiously large suitcase into the back.
“I’ll call, okay? And once your mom picks you up, you need to let me know. I need to know you’re safe.”
“Next week,” Bruce says.
Thor places a chaste kiss on his forehead before turning to the rest of the group.
The teenagers are all exhausted. They hadn’t slept since they were awoken to sirens, and Pepper and Tony hadn’t slept since they snuck out. That’s... over eight hours ago, now. Tony can’t remember anything that’s happened since then. Just a lot of scolding from Coulson and a lot of crying from everyone else.
Lots of crying.
“I love you guys,” Thor says, opening his arms. “I’m... I’m so, so happy I got to meet you all. This was one of the... the most important summers of my life. You all made it great.”
“We love you, Thor,” Bucky grins, tears in his eyes. “You too, Loki.”
“Keep in touch. If anything else happens, let us know.”
“We will.”
The crushing group hug lasts for what feels like hours—Tony rests his chin on Loki’s shoulder, tears soaking into the boy’s green shirt as they both take comfort in each other. They’re both grieving for the same reason. Loki trembles once Tony rubs his back, the younger boy wrenching with tears as he struggles to breathe.
“It’s going to be okay, guys. We’ll... we can do this.”
“I’ll text, okay? Promise.”
“We love you guys.”
Thor stays silent, only letting himself sniffle before breaking the hug. Everyone backs up, tucking their hands in their pockets or using them to wrap each other into more crushing embraces. Steve’s face remains tucked into Bucky’s neck, his boyfriend holding him like a baby.
Hela slams the trunk closed, taking a drag of her cigarette. Her eyebrows are furrowed in stress. “Come on, dicks, let’s get moving. We have a long drive ahead of us.”
Bruce gives Thor one last kiss on the cheek. The taller boy smiles, solemn nonetheless.
“Promise me,” Thor huffs as he pulls himself into the passenger’s seat. “Promise me, you all will stay safe. Make good choices. Don’t... don’t go alone, anywhere. Please. Your life is your priority, now. Protect it.”
“We will,” Clint cracks out, and then the boys are driving away.
—
TWO DAYS LATER
There was a sort of unbalance, really, with Thor and Loki gone—the days felt dull and the sky was less colorful. Then again, everything has changed since that night.
The police figured that, since Peter’s body was found on the property, Harley’s body must be here as well. They search day and night, sifting through the lake and digging through the forest. K-9s sniff and sniff and sniff, but never find a single trace of the kid.
Pepper can’t lie and say she’s coping well. She’s not. The only damn reason she’s not back home in Ohio yet is because her parents are on honeymoon in Hawaii, leaving no one who could possibly admit her out that’s on her emergency contact list. That’s the case for a lot of people, actually, especially with the senior campers. But she sure as hell has never seen a bunch of teenagers act as scared as schoolchildren before now.
The other reason she’s having the slightest ounce of bravery is because of the mantra ‘what the fuck was that thing they pulled out of the water’ that repeats in her head—echoing and festering like it’s bouncing off the walls of a cave.
Keep in mind, Pepper is an observant person. She notices the little things, like when Clint grows a new bruise on his left knee, or when Natasha adds a new bead to her anklet, or when Tony’s under-eyes get a little bit darker due to what she assumes is sleep deprivation.
Observing is what she does best; she can certainly differentiate between leather and skin, and she can certainly differentiate between Peter’s button nose and some pointy, unfamiliar one.
She internally debates this for a few days. Maybe she was just... imagining things. Maybe her perception was muddled due to the adrenaline of that night. But, perhaps, appearance alone isn’t the only thing she has to go off of.
Maybe there’s something else. Something scientific. Possibly biotic.
Bruce is pretty knowledgeable on biotic shit.
“Wait, so... why are you not going to Tony about this? You two are way closer to each other than I am, and honestly, he’s as much of a genius if not more than me.”
“Don’t say that, Bruce,” Pepper says politely. “You’re very smart.”
“On biotech. Tony’s more of an engineer, technically speaking, which is probably more useful to whatever you need to know.”
“I don’t need Tony. I need you.”
Bruce scrunches his nose.
“Look,” Pepper explains, motioning with her hands over the picnic table. The area was empty, the small population of remaining campers most likely hiding out in their cabins. Police had finally left for the day. “I know that I’m not the only one who thinks something was wrong about that night. I think we both have the same reason, too.”
“What do you—“
“The body,” she hisses, to which Bruce gives her a pointed look to keep her voice down. “No one’s around to hear.”
“That’s not why. I thought we all collectively agreed to not bring up the body.”
“There was something wrong with it! Didn’t you see it?”
“Of course I did, Peps, we all did! Clear as day!”
“I have a hunch,” she says, and Bruce facepalms. “No, look, listen. I saw him, up close, I saw them roll his body on the stretcher and into the ambulance. His skin—His skin didn’t look like skin, Bruce.”
“It looked fake?”
“Yes. Yes, and—and his hair. When his hair was wet, like when he was swimming, it was dark brown—since hair looks darker when it’s wet, right? Well, that night, his hair didn’t look dark brown. It looked light brown, even though it was wet. Soaking. So, conclusively, you can tell that if that body’s hair was dry, it would probably be blonde—“
“What are you saying?”
“They got his hair color wrong. That wasn’t Peter’s hair, or his skin, or his arms, or his face. That wasn’t Peter at all, don’t you get it? Couldn’t you see it?”
“Pepper, I think you’re just overthinking this.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are!” Bruce insists. “Pepper, trust me when I say I’m good with psychology. I get it, okay? I get that this was traumatic for everyone that was there—especially for you and Tony. I don’t know what happened to you guys before we got there, and I’m not going to force you all to say it. But... Peter is gone. You—Pepper, I get it. I get that you’re trying to draw a conclusion to a confusing situation, okay? But this is just too far fetched. Why in the world would that not be Peter? Logically.”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out!” Pepper huffs. “And I need your help.”
She looks up at Bruce helplessly. She knows for a fact that the boy is more aware than he makes himself out to be; he’s wise beyond his years and simply way too intuitive to not catch onto the little things. Maybe he’s just afraid to combat the situation head on. Maybe he’s afraid of confrontation in general.
Fine. That’s fine. Pepper just has to approach this at a different angle.
“Please,” she says.
Bruce frowns.
“Why don’t you ask Tony? He’d believe you more than anyone, wouldn’t he?”
“We both know that he’s not in the emotional nor mental state to handle this situation.”
It’s true. Tony’s a mess (not that it’s anything new) and everyone knows it. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t tell his traumatizing stories anymore, and his eyes look sadder with each passing moment. If he knew of Pepper’s theory, at least for now, he would cling onto the possibility of Peter being alive and never let it go. It would get him killed.
“Bruce... listen to me. You’re the only one observant enough to—to know what’s going on here, at least, as much as I do. Maybe there’s something you remember about the body, or something you can tell me. I had an idea. You know things about the effect of water on human body decay?”
“Yes,” he admits.
“After about a day submerged in fresh water, would a human body decompose to the point of the muscle and bones deforming on, say, the nose and fingertips?”
“You saw the body that close up?!”
“I saw them wheeling him away right in front of me. Anyways, answer the question. Would the appendages begin to become misshapen in only a day?”
“There’s a lot of factors in play,” Bruce says. “Water temperature, bacteria levels, all that. The water is at least room temperature in the lake, and there’s plenty of bacteria...”
“His fingers looked like they were bent backwards. They looked floppy, like there wasn’t any actual bone. It looked like... like... it was just a glove stuffed with cotton.
“Cause of death could be a factor. Maybe the kid broke his fingers somehow.”
“How would he break his fingers?!”
“I don’t know, Pepper! Okay?!”
“There is something wrong with this—oh my god—everything! These missing boys, and who the hell even found the body in the first place? Why hasn’t the camp been shut down for good yet, regardless of whether or not the parents can pick up their kids? Bruce. It can’t be a coincidence, I swear, there’s no way two boys just happened to disappear and one was found dead in the fucking lake. Maria and Phil are the only damn adults who aren’t completely oblivious and ignorant to everything going on in this shit show of a camp. I’m afraid that something bad is going on!”
A theory of hers—because it’s true. Nothing makes sense anymore. Pepper had come to camp in the beginning of the summer with the promise of life-long memories and new friendships. It had been true for a while. She was happy with the experience. Sad to go home.
But then Tony Stark came, and everything went to utter shit. An unspoken truth.
“Am I the only one who knows about this?”
“Of course.”
Bruce caves. He sits back down, looking defeated yet battle-ready. The girl shimmies with glee.
—
While Pepper has run off to ‘talk’ to Bruce about something, dragging him off to the lake area and leaving the rest of Emmaus sulking in their cabin, Rhodes is left on Tony watch—much to the dismay of Bucky and Steve, who are still hung up on the kid and wanted to cling all over him again, but Rhodes could feel the tension. He gives the pouting couple a pointed look before sitting next to Tony on his bed.
Tony’s covers are made up of 2000 thread count authentic silk. They’re a deep, dark red, almost burgundy, that have an uncanny resemblance to the color of a pool of blood. The fact that someone is able to sleep on sheets so pristine is beyond Rhodes, but he supposes it’s just an insignificant bonus of being a Stark.
“It’s like... he was, just... floating,” Tony murmurs, so quietly that Rhodes has to lean in to hear. “Or something. I don’t know. It’s like he wasn’t even heavy, or dead weight. He just looked limp. The kid was always light. All bones and skin, really. Those fire fighters pulled him out like he was a grape. Small.”
Rhodes can only look at the boy softly. There’s nothing he could say to make him feel any better.
“I suck,” he says, dull. “I dunno. Where’s tweedle dum and tweedle dee?”
“Playing cards with Scott. They won’t hear.”
“Good.” A sigh. “You know I like them?”
“We all figured,” Rhodes says quietly.
“I like them. I really do,” Tony grins. “But... they’re not... good for me. Jesus. They make me happy, but honestly, I can’t remember the last time my happiness came first.”
“Your happiness should always come first, Tones.”
“I wanna go home,” he cries.
“Well—Well, Tony, why don’t you? Can’t your dad send a chauffeur, or something?”
“It’s a funny story, really. He hasn’t answered my calls. I’m blocked from Stark Tower’s phone lines. I was able to get Jarvis to block the command my dad put into place, but the employees have been ordered to not obey my requests to bring me home. Those rules were made back when my father expected me to try to escape. Honestly, I don’t even think he knows about the body.”
“That’s such horse shit,” Rhodes grumbles.
“Welcome to my life.”
—
Tony can’t sleep.
He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t even know why he’s as sad as he is. He didn’t know the kid for very long—but then again, he didn’t have to. It was a horrible fate for anyone, especially a child, and any decent human being would be sympathetic.
Maybe a part of Tony saw himself in Peter. A tiny, single parent-having, charismatic genius. Or, maybe he saw what he wishes he could be; innocent, frail, humble, and content. Content with what was in front of him, even if it was as simple as a puzzle or a book that Maria gave him.
Tony has never been content with anything in his life. Nothing can seem to satisfy him, and nothing is ever enough. One of his many toxic traits, he supposes.
Even with his partners. Sure, short skirts and high heels and tight tank tops get him off fine. Christine was no stranger to feminine clothing. But, come on, you can’t blame him for wanting a bit of a breather every once in a while! Sometimes, tight jeans and neat blazers and sculpted biceps is exactly what a guy needs.
And—okay. Maybe he shouldn’t be so harsh on the feminine side of things. Pepper is plenty feminine. Her soft face and round hips and thin arms. She’s wonderful.
But then he thinks about Bucky’s muscular quads, the piece of hair that dangles over his forehead like an ornament, his fitted baseball tees, and his creased and dirty air force ones. That’s hot.
Then he thinks about Steve’s deep blue eyes, his gorgeous sun-kissed cheeks, his tiny, almost scrawny hands, and the way he’s practically engulfed in any clothes he steals from Bucky. That’s hot, too. And—
Jesus Christ, he needs to snap out of it. Get it the fuck together, Stark! This isn’t the time to be questioning romance, this is the time to be figuring shit out. Especially the cause of Peter’s death, because if anyone can do it, it’s probably Tony Stark. He’s a genius, for fucks sake, he must be able to figure this out.
But he has nothing. No clues, no leads, no traces, no evidence. Nothing to go off of. It’s like being a detective without a fingerprint. A lawyer without a case. An engineer without blueprints.
His phone beeps.
The night, as usual, is pitch black. He reaches behind his pillow to find his phone. It’s a text from Pepper.
pepperoni: You wouldn’t happen to be awake?
pepperoni: We need to talk.
The most dreaded four words that any guy can hear—but alas, he shuffles out of bed and sticks a mint in his mouth anyways.
As he walks past his bed, blindly wandering in the dark and looking for his shoes, Steve unconsciously moves in his sheets. Next to him, entangled with the other, is Bucky. They share a bed most nights.
Tony stares at them, blinking, and he hesitates.
He places a chaste kiss on both of their foreheads.
—
“What did you want to talk about?” Tony asks skeptically, arm linked with Pepper’s as they tiptoe out of the cabin area. The leaves beneath their feet are loud and crunchy—one false move and they’ll be caught and punished accordingly. But, honestly, what would they even be getting in trouble for? For doing the same thing that killed others, or for almost seeing the thing that’s doing the killing in the first place?
Pepper looks down at him, analytically, but that’s not surprising. “That depends on whether or not you listen to exactly what I say.”
He blinks.
Then he grins, but it’s all false-suave. “Wow, sounds kinky! I’m in.”
“Shut up,” she grumbles.
He follows her, trailing slightly behind the girl as she stalks down the path, almost as if she knows where she’s going. It’s whatever, he guesses, because she... must know what she’s doing. A part of him gulps in dread, with the fear that something bad is going to happen, but the other part of him expects to get off by the end of the night. Oh, alright, so this is what we about to do. Alright. Alright. He’s cool with this.
“So, uh...” he says anyways, because consent is key. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“And what do you mean by that?” Pepper says as she pushes a branch out of the way. Shit. They’re gonna cut through the woods.
“I—Well, where are we going?” He sounds too nervous! Act suave, act suave!! “Somewhere with more, uh, privacy than the middle of the fucking cabins, I presume?”
“You’ve got me wrong,” she sighs. Another branch.
“What’s there not to get? Come on, Peps, you’re a clever girl girl. I know how your mind works—we’re similar, in a sense! Burdened with inconceivable knowledge. I mean, don’t you think so too? Don’t you want to be happy?”
“What the fuck are you on about?”
“I thought I made it clear, sorry,” Tony grins, and then he pushes Pepper’s shoulders against a tree—keeping his hands planted on the bark on each side of her head, effectively pinning her. It’s a quick, practiced motion. He can barely even see her face in the dark, but he can tell her breath hitches. “I. Like. You.”
For a moment, he thinks that he’s done it. He’s finally seduced Pepper fucking Potts.
She scoffs.
“You can’t be fucking serious,” she says to herself, shoving Tony off of her.
Flabbergasted, he throws his arms in the air and follows the girl as she continues walking. “I am!” he exclaims. “I fucking like you! I mean, isn’t that why we’re out here in the first place?!”
“Keep your fucking voice down!” she hisses, but her mind is elsewhere. Because as much as he can lie and say he understands her, he really doesn’t.
He bites his lip. Before he knows it, they’re standing before a line of yellow police tape.
“I need your help,” she says simply, finally turning to the boy and cupping his hands in hers. “And you need to listen. Carefully.”
“This conversation couldn’t have taken place near the cabins?”
“You never know who’s listening, Tony,” she says.
Tony glances past her shoulder, trying to determine what part of camp is behind the tape. It’s too dark to see anything, though.
“What’s back there?”
“You know.”
And he does. His heart sinks.
“Look, Tony,” Pepper says softly yet urgently, as if that isn’t the place he’s been avoiding like the plague for days now, as if his fucking kid’s body wasn’t dug up there— “Tony. You need to tell me that you promise. You promise you’ll listen, and you won’t freak out, or try something stupid.”
“You’re freaking me out,” he grunts.
“I don’t—Tony, I don’t think the kid is dead.”
He blinks.
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying!” Pepper hisses.
”This is a real fucked up... my god. That’s not cool, Potts. That’s real fucked up. You fucking...”
“Tony—“
“He’s dead,” Tony whispers, poking a finger to her chest and peering up at her, like a badger screeching at a gazelle. “Nothing we can do to change that.”
“W-What are you even talking about? I thought you would be happy about this!”
“Just. Don’t.”
“Me and Bruce have been discussing it—“
Tony turns around in bafflement, arms thrown into the air. “Oh my god, Bruce too?!”
“You seriously don’t even want to believe in the mere chance he could still be alive?”
“How do you even know that? They pulled his damn body out of the lake! He was dead.”
“I don’t think,” Pepper forces out, gripping the boy by his shoulders and shaking. Hard. “That it was Peter’s body.”
Tony recoils, an instinct of his after a long life of taking hits from people bigger than him. Her nails dig into his shoulder, a deep, seething pain, even through the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. He can handle it, though.
Pepper sees his pained expression, and she releases her grip nonetheless.
“Let me explain,” she says, so he does.
—
It takes an hour. It takes an hour of swatting away mosquitoes and picking at the grass and Tony refusing to believe her, but when Pepper explains the extent of her theory, a part of Tony begins to believe, as well.
But it’s so far fetched. And as much as Tony likes to tell himself that he’s a cunning, optimistic person, it seems as if these past few weeks have really worn him down; because he’s simply too tired to want to give himself a false sense of hope.
Where shall they go from here? It can be easily assumed that Peter’s fake body was some sort of... cover up. Perhaps by the police, or government, or some other corporation with the means to do it. But, once the body is taken in for an autopsy, shouldn’t they be able to tell that it’s not real?
No. Maybe they would bring in someone else to do the ‘autopsy,’ someone fake.
“You mean like in Stranger Things?” Pepper asks. “You’re thinking out loud, you know. You tend to do that.”
“A genius mind must think outside the box, Pepper,” Tony mutters. “Or, uh, outside the head.”
“Proceed, then.”
”Nah, that’s all that I have the energy for. So where do we go from here? Are we going to do something about this?”
“Maria and Coulson wouldn’t believe us. Or, at least, they wouldn’t want to believe us. Fury wouldn’t, either. Don’t even mention Rumlow. That asshole would have our heads and punish us for ‘immature behavior’,” she says. “Maybe if we found some other evidence, though.”
“Like what?”
“Well, first, we have to consider... the motive for making a fake body. Is Peter still alive and someone is trying to hide it? Or did he die in a more gruesome fashion and they’re trying to make an explanation for why he’s not around? Let’s face it; a kid supposedly drowning is less of a headline than a kid being stabbed seven times in the rib, or some shit.”
Tony looks down, feeling old beyond his years.
“Okay,” Tony says, anyways, and begins to stand up, brushing off his jeans.
“Where are you going?” Pepper asks.
He promptly ignores her. “Hey, Jarvis, it’s daddy. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while.”
“Please, I’d hardly call it a burden on my part,” says the AI’s familiar, snarky voice.
“Did we ever manage to get the metal scanner feature down?”
“You programmed it into my software around four months ago, Sir.”
He sighs. “Good. Okay, good.” Pepper follows behind him as he ducks under the police tape, using his phone as a flashlight to illuminate their path. He focuses on the watch.
“What do you need some metal detector for?” Pepper asks.
“It’s not just any basic metal detector, Ms. Potts,” Jarvis replies, because Tony doesn’t. “I have the ability to produce a wide scan of any area and detect copper, iron, vibranium, aluminum, stainless steel, brass, zinc, chromium, and any other metals you can think of with little effort.”
“What else?”
“I display a virtual image of any of these metal objects that Mr. Stark requires, as well as the compounds of their elements and any other information I can find.”
“Jar, scan the diameter of the right side of the lake. Be sure to get deep in there, and below the bottom, as well.”
“Tony, what are you trying to find? I doubt they would hide anything we could use in the lake.”
“No one goes into this lake,” Tony explains offhandedly, watching as a hologram from the watch scans up and down the water, a bright blue against the murky green. “Especially since the incident. It’s always taped off. If I wanted to hide something of interest, I’d do it at the bottom of this lake. It’s deep, it’s alone, it’s disgusting, and it’s inconspicuous. I—Oh. Jar, we got something?”
Instantly, a holographic image of a pile of spare change illuminates above Jarvis’ watch. Tony tuts, swiping it away. “Keep going.”
”But what would they hide?”
“Maybe a weapon. Maybe a briefcase. Maybe a safe full of three million dollars. You never know.”
Jarvis finds a necklace. It has a locket in the shape of a heart. “Nope.”
Pepper stays silent, watching intently. She looks sad when Tony glances at her.
A flute, a crowbar, a pipe, a fork, a picture frame. Nothing notable pops up for a good ten minutes. Tony gives Pepper his jacket to sit on as she yawns, retreating to the floor. It’s whatever. It’s too dark for her to see his arms.
“Come on, Jar,” Tony hisses. “Gimme something good. Come on.”
“Maybe we can try again tomorro—“
Another scan. Tony looks at it half heartedly, but blinks at what he sees.
A box. A steel, clean-looking case, locked shut with a padlock. It’s not covered in algae, at least, from what Jarvis can tell, and it looks freshly placed.
“Where is it?”
“About fifteen feet deep, sir, on the south end.”
“Tony, what is it?”
“A box. A briefcase, maybe. I can’t tell.”
Pepper stands, wrapping her fingers around Tony’s wrist and pulling the hologram in close to her face. She stares it down, the blue light painting her face.
“It was just put down there.”
“Yeah,” Tony hums. “No algae on it.”
“It might be nothing...”
“I’m not taking that risk,” Tony says. “Jarvis, I’d like to transfer all of your control to Pepper Potts—“
“Tony! What the—“
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s just for now,” he explains, ripping the watch off and strapping it onto Pepper’s pale, frail wrist. “He’s waterproof, but I don’t wanna risk damaging his software with mud or muck. While I’m at it, actually, allow Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, and Bucky Barnes to have full access to your functions for the time being. I have a feeling they’ll need it.”
“Granted.”
“Tony, are you seriously going to—“
“Hold my belt,” he says, next. “It’s gucci.”
“You’re gonna catch pneumonia!”
“I’m going in.”
“Tony, oh my god,” Pepper groans, watching as the boy dives into the water.
She watches, anxiously, as Tony’s form disappears into the green. Bubbles float to the surface and pop like balloons.
She waits. She waits, for what feels like minutes but must be mere seconds, and Tony still doesn’t emerge.
“Jarvis,” she says, shaking, “Is he—Is he fine?”
“I have faith that the young master knows how to swim,” Jarvis sasses. Just like Tony.
It must be a minute straight of staring at the water. There’s no way Tony can hold his breath for that long! He barely goes swimming, he’s said it himself, so there’s no way he’s used to holding his breath for very long. Didn’t he used to smoke? Pepper has met smoker men who were horrible at holding their breath underwater because of their lungs. He might be drowning. He might have gotten his foot stuck on something!
“Fuck this,” Pepper grunts, throwing Tony’s belongings onto the ground and carefully removing the watch from her wrist. “Fuck my life, fuck my life, fuck my life, I have to go in after him.”
She kicks off her sandals, carefully toeing down to the edge of the water and preparing to jump in. She builds the momentum to, but before she gets the chance to even take a breath, Tony’s hand shoots up and grabs her ankle.
“OH MY GOD!” the girl shrieks.
Tony’s head pops out of the water. Hair all clinging to his forehead, soaking wet, with a plant draped over his shoulder. He gasps for air.
“Tony,” Pepper says, grabbing the boy’s wrist and pulling him up. He’s surprisingly heavy, for some reason. It takes her a moment to realize that’s it’s not him that’s hard to lift. It’s the cargo he’s holding onto with his other hand. “Are you okay? Are you fine?”
He flops his hair out of his face and lifts the metal box from behind him, throwing it onto the ground in a heap. Heavy.
“Yeah,” he huffs, still gasping for air and rubbing his eyes. “Fit as a fucking fiddle.”
—
Tony wraps his jacket around his shoulders, despite it being covered in dirt and grass, and him not being any cleaner. That water was cold, goddammit, and it’s not like he has a shower and a heated blanket on hand.
Him and Pepper sit in front of the box. She fiddles with the padlock, making random guesses to the numbers and failing each time. She shifts the seven to a six on the third dial. Nothing.
“Pepper,” he croaks.
The girl doesn’t answer; but her fingers tremble more.
“Pepper,” he croaks again.
Her hands shake. She’s been struggling with the lock for half an hour. She’s covered in mosquito bites and her hair is knotty and disarrayed. In less than a minute later, her entire body trembles, her hands gripping the handle of the case as she shakes it in frustration, tugging and pulling and wrenching with tears. “Fuck this!”
Tony reaches to wrap his arms around her; he doubts she’ll care much about how dirty either of them are. They both need showers desperately. “Pepper, it—it’s getting light, the sun is rising, maybe we can try cracking the code another time.”
“We need to find him now!” she argues, few prickling from her eyes and dripping onto the metal. “We need to find him. You need to find him! You need to find him, so you can find closure, and we can prove he’s alive, and then you won’t feel so shitty, and then you can go home and move on!”
“Why?” he asks, semi-hysterical.
“Because I care about you, you fucking moron!” she cries.
And so, Tony hugs her longer. He watches in confusion as the girl draws her knees to her chest, wrenching and grumbling to herself.
But all Tony can think about is if the Emmaus cabin will be mad at him for hopping in the shower first.