take me back
5 years earlier
A situation in [REDACTED] presented itself to S.H.I.E.L.D. agents when conducting regular field checks last week. The situation, involving the Red Room’s Agent [REDACTED] and concerning S.H.I.E.L.D.’s own Agent [REDACTED], needed to be dealt with in the swiftest and most efficient way possible. Agent [REDACTED] herself was sent to see to the situation, joined by Agent [REDACTED].
The operation, that began as a simple recon and [REDACTED], turned out to be something more sinister and needed more time allocated to it’s carrying out. Agents [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] stayed in [REDACTED] for a further six months in order to [REDACTED] the target, [REDACTED]. [REDACTED] eventually conceded after almost a year of pursuit and violence. [REDACTED] civilians were harmed, [REDACTED] killed, with [REDACTED] [REDACTED] also being caught in the crossfire. President [REDACTED] is not happy about this detail in particular.
Overall, Agents [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] followed out their mission to the best of their ability and managed to [REDACTED] the target.
“Redacted, redacted, redacted...I’m losing my goddamn mind.” Tony sighed as he tossed the file onto the glass table. “Yelena is dead. So are some civilians, along with a damn Russian diplomat. Putin is pissed, you two had sex.” He looked up from the file as Clint damn near choked on his coffee. “Sound about right?”
“We, um-”
“Save it, Romanoff. I’d recognize Barton’s after-sex-glow anywhere.” He smirked. “Anyways, if I have to read the word ‘redacted’ one more time I’ll explode. So, in your own words, how was Budapest?” He asked. Nat looked at him with a flash of shock on her face before a flick of Tony’s eyebrow reminded her that he is one of the smartest people to have ever existed. Of course he knew where they were. No amount of S.H.I.E.L.D. cover-up operations could touch his intelligence.
The two shared a look and a moment of silence before Nat cleared her throat.
“Oh, you know,” Nat began, “what was a simple recon mission became something far more, something we didn’t expect. But it went well, we handled it, and, um...” she looked at Clint, a wry smirk flashing on her face, “yeah, it was good. Fine. We’re good.” She bit down on her bottom lip, her foot tapping the ground as she fidgeted and tried to hold back a smile.
“It was fine, the target was taken out and the threat was eliminated.” Clint stated, matter-of-fact and straight. He clenched his jaw as Tony smirked and tried to tease a moment of weakness out of him.
“Jeez, for your sake, Romanoff, I hope he isn’t that robotic in bed.” Tony stood from his chair and walked toward the kitchen as Nat laughed and looked away, unable to hide her cheeky smile.
“That’s all good, guys. I don’t need anything else – you’re good to go.” He paused making coffee and held his hand up to the two of them before either of them had a chance to question him. “I don’t want to have to do any more paperwork. You’re cleared for active duty.” He and Nat shared a look before Clint started to head for the door, Nat following, her eyes on the ground.
“Before you go anywhere, I have something to show you. Well, a few things.” He said nonchalantly. “Follow me,” he said, heading for a door that the other two hadn’t noticed, almost as if it wasn’t there before.
In the room that it led to, a short staircase lead down to a vast, open space with black and gold marble floors. To the left of them was a whole wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking central park, and, in-front of them, a huge bar designed with the same marble as the floor. Shelves and shelves of alcohol flanked by fridges full of bottled drinks from pale ales to lemonades, rows of champagne and wine glasses accompanied by jars of fruit to garnish, and jars of metal straws and drink decorations. Over to the right, the whole floor had three steps that led down to a seating area, the marble floor covered with a white carpet and accompanied by sofas and chairs that mirrored the gold in the floor. Tucked away in the corner was a fire pit that sunk a further three feet into the floor, a sophisticated filtration and ventilation system hanging from the ceiling, unnoticeable unless you were looking for it.
“You’ve outdone yourself this time, Stark.” Clint smiled.
“Yeah, I mean, what are you expecting this to turn into? A frat house?” Nat joked, unaware of just how much that comment had hurt Tony. Was his loneliness so obvious that even when he created something so beautiful, it only served as a reminder that no-one would use it?
“Actually, Ariel, we’re about to have company.” Tony remarked, joking about Nat’s recent return to her natural hair colour in order to deflect her comment.
“We?” Clint asked.
“We.” Tony answered, strolling out from behind the bar with a scotch in hand, his coffee abandoned on the counter. “When you two were away, I was approached by Nick Fury regarding a shelved S.H.I.E.L.D. project that he wants to bring back to the table.” He explained, taking short steps toward Nat and Clint on the lower level of the vast floor. “His plan is to bring together a group of so-called “remarkable” people to “do the jobs that we never could”, Tony explained with air quotes, “or something like that. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really listening. After “remarkable” my mind began to wander. To you two – and to Banner.” Something unidentifiable flashed through Nat’s eyes as her steely-eyed-agent stare returned and denied any feeling from being shown. Banner. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After all this time, she might see Bruce again?
“I want the three of you in. And the reason that you two are here, really, is to meet Fury’s other recruits.” He stopped walking and stood in front of them, his eyes telling more of a story than his words ever could. “I really need you guys in on this. And I hate to come between this thing you have going on, but Nat, I need you to go to Banner.” He asked, something of guilt twisting on his face. Nat jumped in before Clint could protest.
“Of course I will. What happened between Bruce and I if anything, was tiny. And it was years ago. It’s in the past.” She turned to Clint with a reassuring smile and wide eyes. “There’s only one thing in my future.” Clint looked to the floor attempting to maintain the stern look on his face despite his eyes showing the hint of a hidden smile that betrayed him.
“Thank you, Nat.” Tony smiled. As he walked past them he landed a hand on Clint’s shoulder – an unspoken show of gratitude.
“So, this is a living space. I figured we could have this as a place of common ground – just somewhere we can be when we want to be together. I think it’s important – you know, for us to bond.” He turned away from them so that they couldn’t see his face – his lonely, desperate face. He’d been alone for so long. “There are rooms – one for each of us. I’ve organized them a certain way but I suppose they’re subject to change – I need to meet everyone first, I guess.” He paced. “And in any case, I suppose–”
“Tony.” Nat cut him off, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “You’re being frantic. Is everything okay?” She moved herself so that she was facing him, looking into his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah...I’m just, I don’t know. Since Pepper and I broke up it’s been pretty lonely. And Fury’s been on my back about this Avengers thing.”
“Avengers?” Clint asked.
“That’s what he’s calling it. The Avengers Initiative. It needs to go well. I think SH.I.E.L.D. have a lot riding on it.” He said, continuing to pace, this time back in the direction of the floor-to-ceiling windows installed perpendicular to the bar. “Fury has two other people in mind. One’s some kind of God from another planet and one’s this guy – you might have heard of him, probably not – named Steve Rogers.” Tony said, struggling to hide his anger. His whole childhood had been lived in Steve’s shadow. He had been close friends of Howard’s and any argument that came between Tony and his dad always lead to a comment about Steve. The “great American hero who did something with his life”.
“Captain America, huh? That’s kind of awesome.” Clint smiled. Tony looked down.
Nat, noticing Tony’s upset and understanding the reasons why, quickly cut through the silence. “Well, I’m in,” she smiled. “Clint?” she looked at Clint with a knowing smile.
“Getting paid to save the world alongside the universe’s best heroes? Hell yes I’m in.”
They were quick to settle on the logistics of Banner’s recruitment and the pair’s move into the newfound ‘Avengers Compound.’ Once this had been established, Barton made a move to leave. His hearing aids had been playing up so he was keen to return to his temporary home across the river to get some rest after what had been a trying trip. Nat offered to stay for a drink to keep Tony company and have a debrief like they used to in the old days of working together, but Tony kindly declined. He made his usual excuse of “big things to work on” and having “no time to spare”, with none of it really being true.
Instead, Tony did the same thing he’d been doing every night for the past three years. He opened up a scotch, drank the contents from the bottle, and fell asleep wrapped in a thick blanket on the couch in his personal living area. The only difference here being that he was in the new Avengers compound, not his own apartment. He had thought that getting settled in there before everyone else arrived would mean he could help them learn the way around and turn it into a home. The sheer size of the building only made his loneliness worse, the brand new king bed occupied by one serving as another reminder that he is ultimately unloved and alone. The couch here was the same as his couch at home - it felt impersonal. It was the best place for him to sleep, and the television provided noise to keep him company. The white noise stopped his thoughts getting too damn loud while the alcohol helped to slow his brain down and allow him to sleep.
The hours dragged by slowly and when Tony woke up to the deafening sound of his ringtone, he was nothing short of confused. The winter sun illuminated the clear New York sky, beaming in through his panelled floor-to-ceiling windows. When he forced his eyes open into a tight squint, his eyes burned, his head screaming at him to close them. With a groan he forced himself up off the couch, his back aching as though he’d been sleeping on concrete. His legs shook as he navigated his new home, stumbling toward the kitchen, catching himself on the island counter and grabbing at the marble surface in search of his phone.
“What the-” he muttered as his blurred vision managed to read the words on the screen - NICK FURY. As much as every fibre of his being was urging him to decline, he knew better. It took balls to send Nicky Fury to voicemail. He wished he had the willpower at that moment. He forced himself to hit ‘ACCEPT’ despite the voice in his head screaming at him not to.
“Change of plans.” Fury asserted quickly, knowing to expect a smartass comment from Tony if he wasn’t quick to state the reason he’d called. “Thanks for getting Nat on board with Banner’s recruitment. She found him, he’s in, and they’re on their way to the compound. Clint is in for a fitting for a new transistor but he’ll be over soon. My recruits will arrive with me, in t-minus fifty minutes. Oh. And thanks for answering. Eventually.” Fury enunciated. Fuck. Tony had sent him to voicemail. More than once, by the sounds of it.
“Sorry, I was asleep. I, um-”
“Got too friendly with Jack last night. Yeah.” Fury accused. “Take a shower. Freshen up. I’ll see you soon.” Fury hung up before Tony could get in another word. He dropped his phone onto the counter and slowly walked from the kitchen to the bathroom, trying his hardest to shut off the thoughts that were creeping in; what his father would think if he could see him like this, nursing a hangover and staggering toward the shower, moments from meeting with Captain Steven Rogers, the son Howard had always wished was his.
The water burned into his skin as he stood dead still, crying into both of his hands. What a fucking mess he’d become, a long ways away from the Tony Stark that is endlessly reported on; the Tony Stark who had been the perfect successor to Howard Stark, the Tony Stark who America trusted with their national security, the Tony Stark that the world wanted to believe in. Right then, in that moment, he felt worlds away from that Tony Stark. He felt like nothing, insignificant, worthless. This Avengers project was the only thing left to give Tony a purpose after all of these lonely years full of dead end projects and breakdowns. This had to work. But how could it? It was tainted by a ghost of Tony’s past that would arrive in the form of Steve Rogers. Would Steve remember Howard the way the public did? Or the way he really was? Steve couldn’t know the intricacies of the abuse Tony suffered. He wouldn’t know about Tony forgetting to eat while Howard and Maria went away for days on end, JARVIS being his reminder. He wouldn’t know about the adolescent drug abuse. He wouldn’t know about the screaming matches, the slammed doors, the thrown punches. But would he understand that Howard wasn’t all he’s now remembered as? Or Tony was about to be forced to work in close quarters with a man who remembered his abusive father as a hero? Tony leaned both hands and his forehead on the tiled bathroom walls as he realised that he would not have an ally in Steve Rogers. He knew that Steve would see Howard as nothing less than a hero. No one did. Only Tony.
Tony decided that the best way around this situation was to avoid the topic altogether. Of course, it may come up during their initial introductions, but if Tony kept his distance from Steve and, when he couldn’t help that, avoid the topic of his father in conversation, Steve would get the message. As he pulled on a new pair of jeans and layered a long sleeved t-shirt with a short sleeved t-shirt, he ran through all of the possibilities in his head. Steve getting the hint that he didn’t want to talk about his past, Steve firstly insisting and then eventually catching on, all the way to Steve chasing him around like a bunny rabbit desperate to discuss the great Howard Stark, not giving up until Tony literally punched the hint through his throat. After a satisfying chuckle at this image in his head, Tony sat down on his bed, faced with his reflection in the mirror. Look at you, the mess your father turned you into.
“Sir, Director Fury and Level 3 guests have entered the lobby. Might I suggest you greet them on the 12th floor.” JARVIS’ voice rang out. Tony sighed as he pushed himself up onto his weak and shaking legs, closing his eyes to steady his dizziness before heading to the elevator.
“Welcome, Mr Stark. Where to?”
“Living area. Uh-floor...floor 12.”
“No problem, Sir.”
As smooth as the elevator ride was, the falling sensation worsened Tony’s nausea, forcing him to grab onto the handrail to steady himself; though he couldn’t really tell the difference between the hangover nausea and the anxious pit of butterflies in his stomach, they were both equally unwelcome and sickening.
When he stepped off the elevator and into the still unfamiliar and cold living area, he was relieved to find that Fury and his recruits hadn’t arrived before him. The lights turned on as he entered the room, making him wince and groan: “JARVIS, lights to 50%.”
“Certainly, Sir.”
The lights dimmed and Tony began to panic. They couldn’t be far away. He ran behind the bar to observe the elevator surveillance footage. 6th floor. That places them approximately 10 seconds away. Where would he stand to greet them? Behind the bar, surprised to see them? At the bar, holding a scotch? At the elevator door, eager and enthusiastic? Nah, Fury would never buy that, he thought to himself and chuckled. Before he could settle on a stance, the right-hand elevator made a sound that cut through Tony’s lonely silence and made his ears ring.
Shit.