Regroup
The next day began too early for Jay’s taste. Of course, considering the fact that he’d ended up working on the armor till the wee hours of the morning trying to pound out the confusing array of emotions his conversation with Steve had dredged up, it was likely that any time before noon would’ve felt too early.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stumbled towards the communal kitchen, superficially knowing that he might run into the other Avengers, but the knowledge not truly registering in his uncaffeinated brain.
The kitchen went quiet when he entered but Jay didn’t notice, shuffling his way with dead-eyed determination towards the coffee machine. Getting onto his tiptoes to open the cabinet above the coffee machine, Jay snatched the largest mug he could find and poured till it was in danger of overflowing. He lifted the mug to his lips reverently, gulping down a third of the black, tar-like substance in an instant and letting out a satisfied hum.
“It’s like he’s Tony’s clone,” Clint muttered from the table behind him, quickly followed by an “Ow!” that Jay assumed was probably Natasha elbowing him. Ignoring the commotion in favor of his coffee, Jay took a few more sips, letting the caffeine wash over him and make him feel a bit more human before he finally turned around. Clint, Natasha, and Sam were all sitting at the table, plates of Pop-Tarts, scrambled eggs, or toast in various states of consumption in front of them, not-so-subtly eyeing him.
“Morning,” Jay greeted civilly, proud that his voice didn’t sound like the grumpy sleep-deprived gremlin he currently felt like.
“Good morning, Dr. Stark,” Natasha greeted, and Jay snorted.
“It’s Jay, please, nobody calls me Dr. Stark except Miss Hale. And sometimes the Accords council, but I think they’re just being funny,” he said stepping forward to lean against the island that separated him from the table.
“Jay,” Natasha said easily, giving him a cautious smile. “I don’t think we got to go through introductions yesterday. I’m Natasha, that’s Clint, and that’s Sam.” He nodded at each of them in turn.
“Good to meet you,” he said easily, not pointing out that he’d have to have been living under a rock not to know who they are. “Did you all sleep well?” The three Avengers nodded, and Jay nodded and smiled in return, then sipped his coffee, letting silence fall. The silence didn’t really bother him, allowing him the chance to savor his coffee, but the other three fidgeted.
“So, Jay, tell us a little bit about yourself,” Clint invited, and Natasha and Sam couldn’t quite mask their curiosity, turning their eyes on him.
“Ooh, are we interrogating the new guy?” A vaguely familiar guy with a very impressive case of bed head waltzed into the room, and Jay identified him from yesterday as Scott Lang. The man grinned at Jay, plopping into a chair and reaching to snatch a Pop Tart off of one of the plates only to have Clint bat his hand away with a half-hearted glare.
“Not interrogating, just wanting to know a little more about a new teammate,” Sam corrected, and Scott waved a hand.
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” he said, and Jay found himself liking the guy a bit.
“Probably best if we save it for when everyone gets here so I only have to go through this once,” Jay said wryly, and Sam shrugged easily.
“Fair enough,” he acquiesced.
“Steve and Bucky should be up by now, I can go wrangle them if you want,” Clint offered, looking around the group.
“Might as well,” Natasha agreed, and Jay hummed his consent.
“Meet in the conference room in ten?” he suggested, then waited till he got noises of affirmation from the rest. Satisfied, he refilled his coffee cup and left the kitchen, heading to his hardly-used room. He was in the East Wing with the others, but his room was at the end of the hall, directly by the elevator and therefore easy to slip in and out of without running into people. He darted quickly into his room, changing out of his sleep clothes (which were his regular clothes, but after being slept in) and into a fresh band tee and jeans, running a brush through entirely-uncooperative hair. Through his closed door, he could hear the muffled sound of Clint’s voice, and Steve and Bucky’s voices in response. He waited until he heard doors close before snatching his coffee back up and heading back upstairs to the conference room.
Everyone was already present when he arrived, sitting in the exact seats they’d claimed yesterday, and Jay strode in to take his own pre-ordained seat. Unlike yesterday, though, the Avengers generally seemed in better spirits, chattering with one another, some good-natured ribbing about morning breath and waking up before sunrise making its way to his ears. Surprisingly enough, Steve even looked his way when he entered, meeting his eye and offering a nod that Jay returned.
They quieted when he sat down, though, turning to face him expectantly. Jay tried to ignore the weight of Steve’s eyes on him, offering a calm smile. “So, I imagine you have some questions,” he prompted, having already decided that letting them get their curiosity out was probably his best bet. He really had no idea where to start anyway, so it seemed as good an idea as any to just let them direct the conversation. He took a sip of his coffee, waiting for the questions to start.
“Did you know Tony?” Clint blurted out immediately, and Natasha skewered him with her eyes.
“Clint, seriously? That’s the first question you’re going to ask him?” she asked, voice a mixture of unimpressed and deadly. Clint shrugged sheepishly.
“It’s alright,” Jay cut in amusedly. “It’s a fair question. I never met him in person, no. My mom kept everything secret until I turned 18, then she gave me the phone number he’d given her for if I ever wanted to reach out. We spoke over the phone or FaceTime, and we texted, mostly.”
“So you only knew him for, what, a year?” Scott asked, frowning, and Jay nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “Why didn’t your mom tell you earlier?”
Jay shrugged. “She didn’t want me growing up in the middle of a media circus, and I think she was afraid I’d do something rash if I knew. In her defense, there’s a high likelihood I would’ve,” he said with a small grin.
“Maybe we should steer this towards team-related business instead of personal questions,” Steve interjected, and Clint and Scott looked abashed. Jay had to agree, though; the purpose of this was for them to get a better understanding of how he’d work with them as a team.
“Alright. Jay, you said you’re taking over as Iron Man? What exactly does that mean?” Natasha asked, eyes piercing and getting right to the point.
“It means I have an armor that I’ve been working on in the lab that FRIDAY helps me pilot,” Jay answered. “I’ve been working with it for a few weeks now” plus or minus 10 or so years “so I should be able to act as aerial support on missions.”
“Are you planning on taking on any of Tony’s other roles on the team? I’m not sure how up to speed you are on everything Tony did for us – “ Natasha continued, and Jay interrupted.
“FRIDAY and Pepper filled me in, and I’ve looked through Dad’s notes on all the stuff he’s made for you over the years. I can fill in for almost all of his old roles – tech support, gear repairs and upgrades, the works. The only thing I’m really not trained for is taking over his role as the main media handler,” he responded, the lie slipping effortlessly through his teeth with no small sense of relief. He’d hated having to handle all the Avengers’ press. He’d understood why it had fallen to him – he’d been a media darling since he was four years old and had built his first circuit board, and the only other one on the team with any real training being in front of people was Steve and that had been in the 1940’s. But all the same, it would’ve been nice not to be responsible for being at every press conference, regardless of whether the rest of the team was there or not.
Sam grinned. “You really are a chip off the old block, aren’t ya?” Jay smiled at him in turn, shrugging.
“That’s what they tell me,” he answered airily. There was a pause, the Avengers clearly searching for the right words, and Jay wondered if he should just bring up his abilities and lay it all out there for them unprompted. Thankfully, the choice was taken from him.
“Are you bringing anything else to the team?” Steve asked, then blanched when he realized how that might sound. “Not that what you’re currently bringing isn’t enough, but just if there’s anything else…?” he trailed off, clearly uncertain how to gracefully exit that particular can of worms. Jay hid a smile and decided to put the poor man out of his misery.
“There is, actually,” he admitted, and his tone caught the attention of the rest of the team, their eyes locking on him raptly. He hesitated, fiddling with the handle of his coffee mug just to give his hands something to do, then launched into the painstakingly created, purposefully vague story they’d settled on for how he got his new abilities. “While I was at MIT working on my doctorate, I got interested in Dr. Banner’s work after my dad and I had a conversation about it.” He smiled wryly. “All I can say is that, if I were some sort of Greek hero, my tragic flaw would be hubris, because I decided it would be a wise idea to start messing around with gamma rays.”
There was a slew of sharp inhales around the table, but Jay ignored them in favor of continuing. “As you probably guessed, it didn’t go as planned. One of my experiments backfired on me, and, well, I ended up with a few…tricks,” he said, hesitating on the last word. He risked a glance around the table, noting with some amusement that they were all eyeing him with varying degrees of trepidation, as though searching for a greenish tint to color his skin.
“What kind of tricks?” Steve asked finally, and Jay smirked, eyes flashing bright blue as he connected to Extremis, directing the TV at the head of the table that was intended to be used for conference calls to flick on and display the words ‘Hello World.’ There was a moment of shocked silence before they figured it out.
“You’re a technopath,” Natasha breathed. Jay grinned.
“Basically,” he agreed, holding one hand out palm to the ceiling and letting small blue arcs of lightning flow from finger to finger. “It kind of extends into a control over electricity that lets me link up with electronics,” he explained further.
“Dude, that’s badass. So are you like Thor, then, with the lightning stuff?” Scott asked eagerly, and Jay snorted and shook his head.
“Nothing that powerful,” he said wryly. “Mostly, it just means I can interface with technology, link up with the internet, and hack into things with my mind.” Sam whistled, impressed, and he didn’t appear to be alone in that sentiment.
“Of fucking course Tony Stark’s kid would be a technopath,” Clint snorted, then he hesitated. “Wait, did he know about your abilities?”
Jay shook his head. “No, I didn’t get the chance to tell him, it happened pretty soon before he…” And he couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘died,’ knowing the effect it would have on the people around this table, but, if their distraught looks were anything to go by, the forbidden word had echoed in the air anyway. Jay cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ve already spoken with the Accords council about it, so it’s something we can use on missions, if needed.”
Natasha nodded. “I can see how that will be useful,” she said neutrally, breaking the somber tension.
“Boss, Colonel Rhodes is approaching the Compound,” FRIDAY’s Irish lilt interrupted.
“Thanks, Fri. Let honey b – let him know we’re in conference room A,” Jay said, catching himself on the nickname a moment too late and cursing himself for the slip. Oh well, hopefully they’d just think there was some sort of Stark predilection for awarding ridiculous nicknames to people. It was too much of a leap to jump from ‘uses the same nicknames for people as his father’ to ‘secretly the de-aged version of Tony Stark’, right? And frankly, the chances of him breaking his nicknaming habit were slim to none, so he might as well establish that part of “Jay’s” personality now.
“Rhodes is coming?” Sam asked, sitting a little straighter and looking a little haunted.
“Yeah, he wanted to check in and see how everyone’s settling in,” Jay said easily, knowing Pepper had probably panicked yesterday about him meeting the Avengers alone and tattled to Rhodey.
“I thought he wasn’t an Avenger,” Steve commented with a frown. “Miss Hale said he was an – an independent signee or something?”
Jay nodded. “Yeah, Rhodey opted for the independent option because of his involvement with the Air Force, but he still likes to check in. He and Pepper have been looking after me since my mom died,” Jay explained, and there were raised eyebrows all around the room mixed in with expressions of sympathy.
“Your mom?” Scott asked, and his frown deepened at Jay’s nod. “Was that recent?” Jay nodded again.
“A few months after Dad,” he said shortly, hoping to end the discussion of his fictional parents’ deaths; it would only bring unnecessary guilt and pain to the people in this room. “I was at MIT. Pepper had contacted me after Dad to let me know what all I could…expect down the road, but they both reached out after Mom to offer support and stuff. Which was pretty handy, actually, since the lab accident happened pretty soon after that – I dunno who I’d’ve gone to if they hadn’t offered to be there for me.” Jay smiled wryly, the words holding a bit more truth to them than he’d really intended, just in a different way than his audience believed. He was lucky to have friends like Rhodey and Pepper, and he knew it with all his heart. For all that he felt like the world liked to shit on him, it had gifted him with two of the most beautiful souls in his life. Or three, really, since Jarvis was certainly one of the best people to ever exist. Oh, and also Happy. And Peter, and Harley. God, he was so lucky.
“It’s good that you have their support,” Steve’s voice was barely more than a whisper, and it jerked Jay out of his reverie. He blinked, taking in the melancholic expression on the other man’s face, and guilt twinged through him again. Of course Steve was punishing himself for orphaning Jay. God, Jay wished he could just tell him, just to relieve Steve of that burden.
“It is,” Jay agreed quietly, unsure how to steer the conversation away from its depressing turn. When in doubt, he decided, it was probably best to fall back on the tried and true – deflect, deflect, deflect. “So, Mr. Barnes, how is it being back in to the States?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light as he met the slate grey eyes of the Winter Soldier. Bucky looked surprised to be addressed. “You were brought out of cryo just a couple of weeks before the pardons, right?” he prompted.
“Call me James,” Bucky – no, James – said, and Steve made a small noise of surprise. James offered him a half-smile tinged with a hint of bitterness. “It feels like a better fit than Bucky right now, Steve. I don’t remember being him all that well, feels wrong to steal his name.”
“That’s fair,” Jay said softly, understanding the aching feeling of trying to squeeze yourself into a name. He’d had to try to fit into the name of Anthony Stark for most of his early life until he’d been able to make it his own, and now he was trying to figure out who Jay was and how to be him. James turned his attention back to Jay, startled and looking somewhat…appreciative at the shared sentiment. Jay offered him a smile. “James, it is. You settling in okay, James?”
“I am. The Compound has a lot in the way of resources,” he responded, and his voice was a strange mixture of calculating and curious that Jay mentally chalked up to being a 100-year-old super spy-slash-assassin dumped into the 21st century. Jay smiled at him.
“That it does,” he agreed. “Princess Shuri told me she managed to remove the triggers?” He phrased it as a question, hoping to get James speaking a bit more; he hadn’t noticed as much before with everything else that was going on, but he’d yet to hear the Soldier say more than a few words.
“Yes, the Princess was very helpful. I’m still not sure how she did it,” James admitted, and Jay’s smile grew more pronounced.
“Yeah, that’s Shuri for you. Smartest person I’ve ever met,” he said with a laugh, pleased at how the somber air seemed to be dissipating in the wake of the new conversation topic. “Heard she made you that arm, too. Wouldn’t mind getting my hands on that,” Jay said with a grin, and James cocked an eyebrow at him.
“What for?”
Jay pouted exaggeratedly. “She wouldn’t tell me what all she did to it, which is so totally not fair. I tell her what all I’m doing with Iron Man! Fair’s fair, she should tell me how she made your arm,” he said with a huff, and was delighted to see Natasha trying to hold back a smile.
“Maybe she didn’t want you stealing her ideas, zvyozdochka,” the spy said, and Extremis pinged him with the translation in the bottom right corner of his vision – ‘little star.’ He spared a moment of thought for the endearment, recalling how Natasha had once commented when he’d still had the arc reactor embedded that it was as though he held starlight in his chest. But the more important aspect of the nickname caught his attention quickly enough.
“Hey, I am not little!” Jay said indignantly, and Natasha’s eyebrows raised.
“You speak Russian?” she asked, surprised, and Jay shrugged.
“I speak a lot of things,” he answered evasively, knowing that was going to raise questions, but also knowing it was more than likely he’d forget what languages he told people he spoke if he tried to pick just a few and then slip and understand the wrong one at an inopportune moment.
“Eto mozhet byt' interesno,” James commented, and Jay glanced over to see the man’s eyes flashing with a sort of wicked delight as the translation pinged in his periphery – ‘this could be entertaining.’ His eyes lit up, searching Extremis for the phrase he wanted.
“Predvizhu kuchu sekretnogo trepa,” he responded, smirking. James snickered, and Natasha looked amused.
“Oh god, what are they saying? Are they plotting world domination? It sounds like they’re plotting world domination,” Clint fretted, eyes darting back and forth between the three. Jay’s smirk only widened, even as his eyes caught on movement at Clint’s back, and he saw Rhodey striding towards them. James, Steve, and Natasha, all facing the right direction to catch sight of the Colonel, straightened in their seats.
“Everything sounds like you’re plotting world domination in Russian,” Scott remarked, though he also narrowed his eyes at them. Jay smiled innocently as Rhodey entered the conference room, already looking distinctly exasperated.
“That’s such an American thing to say,” Sam said, rolling his eyes as he turned towards the sound of the door opening. His mouth dropped at the sight of Rhodes standing in the doorway.
“Is Jay plotting world domination already?” Rhodey asked sardonically, though his smile was soft and fond.
“Rhodes, you’re – you’re – “ Sam sputtered, eyes wide, and Rhodey turned to look at him, momentarily confused. A look of dawning comprehension crossed his face, and he nodded.
“Standing and walking, yes,” he said, and Sam shook his head.
“I knew you’d been able to walk with braces – but you’re not wearing them?” The words turned up at the end, rendering the statement a question, and Rhodey half-smiled in response.
“Ditched the braces a year or so ago,” he said easily, striding to the opposite end of the table to take the remaining empty chair and lounging back, the picture of relaxation as he answered Sam’s unspoken question. “Tony had perfected Extremis before he died.” The room collectively flinched at that, but Rhodey appeared not to notice. “Had a few people smarter than me look over it and dilute it a little further down before injecting me with it. It healed my spine right up.”
“Is that…is that safe?” Clint ventured, then shrugged sheepishly when Rhodey looked at him, unimpressed. “Hey, you can’t blame me for asking, there was that whole thing where people who got injected with that blew up.”
“What part of ‘Tony perfected Extremis before he died’ did you not understand, Hawkeye?” Rhodey asked pleasantly, and Jay coughed.
“Ooookay, so now that everybody’s here, how did things go with the Air Force, sugar plum?” he asked quickly, and Rhodey narrowed his eyes at him, noticing the deflection for the blatant attempt at reigning in his platypus’s ire that it was. But, blessedly, he rolled with it, dropping his verbal sparring match with Clint, much to Clint’s apparent relief if the release of tension from his shoulders was any indication.
“They’re not budging on letting me join the Avengers,” he admitted reluctantly, frowning. “They say it would take up too much of my time, and that the military has to come first so long as I’m on active duty.”
Jay had to nearly physically hold back his ‘I told you so.’ “Sorry about that, honey bunches,” he said sympathetically, guilt shooting through him at the remembrance that Rhodey had gone to all that trouble for him, in the hopes of making sure he’d be safe around the Rogues.
“Yes, we’d have loved to have you, Colonel,” Steve said earnestly, and Rhodey skewered him with a look.
“Wow, I’m honored,” Rhodey said, tone biting. “It’s so good to know I’d have been welcomed on a team where teammates routinely murder each other and then get let off with no consequences.” Steve went ashen, recoiling like he’d been slapped, and the rest of the Avengers looked stricken.
“Rhodey,” Jay bit out, eyes narrowed, and he waited until his best friend met his eyes defiantly. But Jay stubbornly didn’t back down. “Stop,” he said, the word simultaneously commanding and pleading, and Rhodey looked like he wanted to argue, but he gritted his teeth and settled, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair.
“Fine. Fine. For you, I’ll drop it,” he said, tone still acerbic and looking entirely too pissed off, but holding his tongue at least. Jay counted that as a win.
“So, did you have any other reason for coming here, sugar bear?” Jay prompted, hoping desperately the deflection would push the conversation in a different direction. Rhodey sighed and nodded, leaning onto his elbows.
“I’m sure Miss Hale went over the team structure with you briefly, but the Accords council thought it might be better for me to go through it with you more thoroughly since I have more experience with fieldwork and a chain of command,” Rhodey said, looking around at the Avengers, clearly trying (and sort of failing) to keep his expression from being openly hostile.
“Miss Hale mentioned that we’d have co-leaders, one on the field and one off, as well as a second-in-command on the field in case the first was compromised for any reason,” Natasha stated, voice bland, and Rhodey nodded.
“It was the opinion of the Accords council that the public sphere and the fieldwork sphere are two separate entities, and that one person might not necessarily be suited to lead both,” Rhodey explained.
“So are we electing our leaders?” Scott asked, and Rhodey frowned.
“Partially,” he hedged, and Jay cocked his head. Rhodey glanced at him guiltily, and he had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to like whatever came next. “The Accords council wants Jay to be the leader in the public sphere. Right now, the public isn’t happy with the Avengers. The Accords council feels that having a Stark as the face of the Avengers and acting as the Avengers’ spokesperson would be best for helping build back up public trust in your team.”
Jay let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and pinching his nose and trying to hide his irritation. He just couldn’t fucking escape being in the public eye, could he? God, just when he’d started to come to terms with the media circus that was going to occur when he was revealed as the Stark heir by internally reassuring himself that it would die down at some point if he laid low, he gets the news that he’s not going to be allowed to lay low. Ugh.
He opened his eyes to see Rhodey looking at him sympathetically, and the rest of the team eyeing him with something closer to guilt.
“If Jay doesn’t want to do it, then – “ Steve started, but Jay interrupted.
“No, no, I’ll do it. Rhodey and the council are right, it’ll be better for the team if I’m out there,” he sighed, resigned. Steve didn’t look very reassured.
“If you really don’t want to, though, you shouldn’t have to,” he argued, and Jay let out an indelicate snort that he couldn’t quite manage to hold in. Funny, no one had ever said that to him when he was Tony Stark, billionaire attention-whore. They’d all expected him to step up in the face of whatever shit-show they’d left behind, expected that he’d clean up their messes in the public sphere because he was Tony Fucking Stark and he lived to be in front of the press. Never mind that he hated being the public face of anything, hated the persona he had to embody, the mask he had to put on – but he was fucking good at it, so he’d sucked it up and done it because it was what was best for the team. And now they had the nerve to tell him that he only had to play that role if he wanted to? Well fuck them very much.
“It’s fine, I’m used to doing things I don’t necessarily want to do,” he said with a bit more bitterness than he’d intended, and Steve blinked, looking confused. Right, they thought he’d been kept away from all the bullshit that came with being a Stark up till now. He refused to take it back, though, irritation coursing through him.
“Right, well,” Rhodey cleared his throat awkwardly. “So the council wanted to have a say in that, but you’re free to pick your own field team lead and second-in-command.” He paused, looking around the table expectantly.
Clint started. “What, right now?”
“That would be ideal, so I have names to take back to the council and the military,” Rhodey responded, raising an eyebrow.
“So, uh, what – do we do this democratically?” Scott asked, glancing around.
“I nominate Steve for team lead,” Jay said in a bored tone, already knowing how this was going to go. It was for the best, anyway – Steve was their best tactician on the field, and he’d been their team lead before and done well.
“Do you, now,” Rhodey gritted out, glaring at him from across the table. Jay gave him an unimpressed look. Steve blanched at Rhodey’s obvious distaste.
“Um, maybe Colonel Rhodes is right – “
“I’ve seen the videos, Cap, you’re a good team lead on the field. You being the lead is what’ll work best in battles. My nomination stands,” Jay argued easily, drumming his fingers on the table, then paused at the strange look on Steve’s face. “What?”
“You called me Cap,” Steve said blankly, and Jay’s eyes widened before he tamped down on his reaction; there were two super spies sitting directly in his line of vision, so he could not let his face give him away.
“Oh, sorry – Dad called you that a lot, I must’ve caught on to the habit,” Jay responded, careful to keep his voice casual. Steve blinked, still looking stricken, then dropped his eyes.
“Right,” he murmured.
“Okay, well, any other nominations?” Rhodey prompted, glancing around the table, and he looked disappointed to see everyone shake their heads. “Rogers as field team lead it is, then. And Rogers’ second?”
“I nominate Agent Romanov,” Jay said immediately, and Rhodey gave him a truly exasperated look.
“Jay…” Rhodey trailed off, and his eyes turned sad, giving Jay a look he was very familiar with – it was the ‘do you even care about your own life because you seem to have no self-preservation skills’ look. He squirmed.
“What?” he said defensively. “I’ve watched the footage, I’m just nominating based on what I’ve observed.” Rhodey rubbed his forehead.
“Of course you are,” he muttered, his voice tired and worried. He looked back up at the group. “Any other nominations?”
“I nominate Jason Stark.” All eyes snapped to James, who was leaning back in his chair, arms folded and cool as you please, as though he hadn’t just said something utterly ridiculous.
“What?” Jay finally got out. “You can’t be serious. I’ve never even been in a fight before!” Well. Not exactly the truth, but it was the truth the public was going to believe. “Besides, I’m already team lead for the public sphere.”
James raised an eyebrow. “I see no reason why you can’t be both. Like you said, you’ve been watching us over the years. Of all of us, you seem to be most familiar with our fighting styles, based on what you’re saying about observing team dynamics. And people call you a genius – whatever you don’t know, I’m sure you can pick up quickly enough.”
“Agent Romanov has way more experience than me! And she’s worked with all of you before and been living with you for the past two years. It makes a lot more sense for her to be Steve’s second,” Jay argued, waving a hand at Natasha, who looked bemused by his defense of her.
“I’m not saying Natalia wouldn’t be a good second, I’m just saying I think you could also be a good second,” James said calmly.
“I haven’t even been in the field!”
“Yes, but you’ve watched and you’re smart and clearly a tactical thinker considering you just told us you’re nominating based on what you’ve observed from footage.” God, Jay kind of hated him for sounding so reasonable.
“Why don’t we put it to a vote?” Rhodey suggested, lips quirking up in a poorly-restrained smile. “Those in favor of Agent Romanov?” Jay’s hand shot up, followed by Clint’s and Sam’s. “And those in favor of Dr. Stark?” Oh, Jay was going to kill him for calling him ‘doctor.’ James’s, Scott’s, Natasha’s, and Steve’s hands raised. “Looks like Dr. Stark will be your second-in-command on the field,” Rhodey said smugly, and Jay glared at him.
“Call me Dr. Stark again, sour patch,” Jay threatened, and Rhodey grinned at him.
“Aw, T – Jay,” Rhodey’s eyes widened at the near-slip, and Jay knew his eyes were wide too, though he quickly schooled his face into a more neutral expression. Rhodey tried to recover, “you know you love me.” He smirked, and Jay was pretty sure it was only due to his long history with Rhodey that he could see how strained that grin was. He hoped that was the case, at least – if the others could see the falseness of that smile, suspicions were going to be raised.
“Boss, Miss Potts has arrived,” FRIDAY announced, and relief swept through Jay at the diversion, followed by confusion.
“Pep’s here? Why is Pep here?” he asked, turning to Rhodey. Something mischievous and darkly satisfied flashed through Rhodey’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by an unconvincing innocence as Rhodey shrugged.
“Not sure, she just said she needed to talk to the rest of the Avengers,” he responded casually.
“Miss Potts needs to talk to us?” Scott asked, surprised, and Rhodey nodded nonchalantly.
“Yeah, didn’t say what for, just that she was going to stop by. And in the meantime, Jay, I have a few things I need to go over with you since you’re going to be the Avengers’ point of contact with the military,” Rhodey said, pushing himself to his feet.
“Oh, okay, I’ll come find you after Pepper’s finished with us?” Jay responded uncertainly, and Rhodey immediately shook his head.
“No, Pepper said she doesn’t need you to be here, just the rest of the Avengers. Probably legal stuff to do with their pardons and everything,” Rhodey said, waving a hand dismissively.
“Is Pep involved in their pardons?” Jay asked blankly, mentally reviewing SI’s contracts with the Accords council and the Avengers. Rhodey huffed out an annoyed sigh.
“I don’t know if it’s actually about the pardons or not, that’s just a guess. I just know Pepper gave me permission to steal you away once she got here so we could talk about your public relations role,” Rhodey explained, sounding exasperated, and Jay’s eyes narrowed. His two closest friends were cooking something up, he just wasn’t sure what yet. And it didn’t look like he was going to be able to find out without causing a scene, so he reluctantly shrugged and pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his coffee cup. Like hell was he leaving caffeine behind.
“Lead the way, oh Colonel, my Colonel,” he directed, and Rhodey snorted and rolled his eyes before leading him out of the conference room.
Pepper’s heels clicked against the Compound floor as she made her way to the conference room, head surprisingly clear. Her thoughts had been in turmoil for almost two years now – or really, much longer than that, if she was being honest with herself. Her thoughts had been in turmoil since she’d gotten attached to a certain selfless, self-sacrificing idiot with absolutely no sense of self-preservation.
It was strange, then, to find herself so marvelously clear-headed; but since the Rogues had come back and settled into the Compound like the little parasites had never left, Pepper had felt the fury, the worry, the terror she’d felt on Tony’s behalf crystallize in to one poignant thought that she’d learned from the man himself: nobody touches her stuff. And Tony? Tony was her stuff.
Pepper strode into the conference room without a word of announcement, taking the seat at the head of the table. There had been conversations when she’d entered the room, but they cut off abruptly, all eyes locking on her with varying degrees of confusion and uncertainty, clearly questioning what Pepper Potts could possibly have to say to them.
God, Pepper felt a little sick just looking at them.
“Miss Potts, it’s good to see you,” Rogers greeted her with a friendly smile, and Pepper just looked at him, letting the silence and lack of friendly expression on her face ring in the air as his smile faltered then dropped altogether.
“I’m afraid I can’t say the same,” she said coldly, “considering you cost me one of my closest friends.” Rogers blanched, and Pepper felt a vindictive pleasure unfurl in her chest at the sight.
“That was Wanda, not Steve, Miss Potts,” Romanov said calmly and quietly, and Pepper smiled sharply at her.
“That’s certainly one way of looking at it, and I can see why it’s the way you’ve chosen,” she responded pleasantly.
“What’s this about, Miss Potts?” Steve asked heavily, face weary and unhappy, and Pepper wanted to wipe that look off his face viciously. He had no right to look as though he was an injured party, not after what he’d done.
“This is about Jay,” she said, pausing to make eye contact with each of the Rogues.
“What about Jay?” Barton asked, sounding genuinely confused.
“About how you are all going to be very, very good to him or I will rip you to pieces in the court of public opinion, set you on fire, and dance on your ashes,” Pepper said saccharinely. The Rogues blinked at her. Pepper smiled sweetly and continued, “Jay won’t do this himself, and he has no idea I’m here doing this and or he would’ve stopped me, but he’s far too noble and forgiving for his own good – much like his father. So the duty falls to me, to warn you of the consequences you’ll face if you hurt Jay any further.”
“Miss Potts, I’m not sure what you’re insinuating – “ Rogers started.
“Let me make it clear for you then,” Pepper cut in, tone perfectly silky, enjoying the look of fear in Rogers’s eyes. “You stole Jay’s life. You took away everything he’d made for himself with your foolishness and your stupidity.”
“Wanda – “ Barton tried to cut in, but Pepper was having none of that.
“You let Maximoff in,” Pepper hissed, composure breaking at the wave of fury at the witch’s name. She took a deep breath, forcibly calming herself, then continued coolly. “Dr. Strange has said the level of control Maximoff had would have taken months to build. Months of access to your minds that she had because you let her on the team.” And Pepper couldn’t keep the scathing note out of her voice as she stared the Rogues down coldly. “You don’t get to shirk responsibility for the destruction that you wrought after you let her in in the first place.”
Pepper was vindictively pleased to see that the words seemed to have hit home for several of the Rogues, Romanov and Rogers going particularly white. Mercilessly, Pepper drove the point home.
“It was your mistake that started everything and ended with Jay being forced into a life he never wanted.” Which was true, just not in the way they thought. Tony had never wanted Extremis. He’d always joked that he was already basically part-cyborg between the arc reactor and Iron Man, so he couldn’t afford to lose any more of his humanity; Pepper knew the decisions they’d made to save his life weighed on him more than he would ever admit to them. When she and Rhodey had first discussed what to do in those frantic hours after the doctors had given Tony a terminal prognosis, they’d both come to terms with the fact that Tony might never forgive them for doing this to him without his consent, but they’d agreed they couldn’t lose him, even if he never wanted to see them again. Thankfully (amazingly), he’d never once rebuked them, had instead praised them for their quick thinking – but Pepper saw the hollow looks he gave his reflection sometimes, the way he’d press a palm to where the reactor used to be as if to confirm he was still human, and it hurt to know that she’d done that to him.
“You took away everything he could’ve been, and you will not hurt him any further,” Pepper continued, eyes glinting with a frozen heat. “And that includes the way you mistreated Tony even before Maximoff came into your lives.”
“Mistreated Tony? Miss Potts, what do you – “ Rogers looked confused, and Pepper turned a cold glare on him. His mouth snapped shut with an audible click.
“I’m talking about how you used him like so many other parasites in his life,” Pepper said icily, having to actively maintain control. Rogers looked ready to protest, so Pepper pre-emptively cut him off. “You took all the gear he designed for you without so much as a thank you. You used his money and resources without a second thought or any gratitude whatsoever. You let him take the fall for any and every mistake the team made. You laid all the blame for Ultron on him even with proof that the mind stone had corrupted Tony’s program and brought Ultron to life and left him to face the repercussions completely alone. You belittled him at every turn, saying he ‘wasn’t recommended’ or citing his ego but having no problem accepting every gift he gave you and every reparation he made in your names. You completely ignored him when he wasn’t useful to you, not bothering to come help with AIM or even ask if he was okay afterwards. And – and this is my favorite – you, Rogers, used his money and resources to hunt down your little friend over there, all the while knowing that that friend had killed his parents and not telling him - all of which happened before Maximoff had control over any of you.”
Pepper’s words were met with a tormented silence, the Rogues wide-eyed and mute in the wake of her list of their sins. She let the silence hang for a moment, meeting each of the Rogues’ eyes with a frosty stare. The words came fast after that, quick and dark and deadly serious. “You will not treat Jay like that – I will not let you. If I get so much as a hint that your behavior is harmful to Jay in any way, I will end you.” She paused, then allowed her voice to resume its earlier pleasant tone, giving them a saccharine smile. “Am I understood?”
The Rogues nodded mutely, and Pepper’s smile widened. “Excellent. I’ll let you get back to your Avenging, then. Don’t worry about reaching out – FRIDAY will let me know if anything happens that I need to be made aware of.” She relished the widened eyes of the ones who understood her warning for what it was. Standing, she nodded at them, sweet smile still in place. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding. Have a wonderful rest of your day.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, feeling lighter than she had in years. Behind her, Pepper heard Barnes mutter, “It's a really good thing Hydra never got ahold of her, the world would've been fucked."