Chapter 1
The thing is, Carol's always been friendly with her exes. What's the point of dating or sleeping with someone if you're not friends first and after, right? So she's friendly with all of them.
All except Jim.
"Seriously though, Danvers," Tony says through a mouthful of hotteok, because he was raised by a succession of terrorized nannies and then abandoned to the tender mercies of whatever boarding schools managed not to kick him out in less than a month, "did Rhodey wrong you in a past life? Because not to brag about my totally awesome BFF, but I have never seen anyone dislike him on sight quite as obviously as you."
Carol likes that Tony always uses her names, her rank, or her call-sign. He has at least half a dozen fond-to-derogatory nicknames for everyone. She'd wager her bike that he keeps a running list of new ones to try on Steve, just for the joy of seeing the rising flush on his cheeks at the more outlandish ones. But Tony saw the minute flinch the first time he tried one out on her, innocuous as Captain Starpants was, and never so much as floated another.
And Tony likes to pretend he's not good with people.
"Well, the thing is." Carol pokes at her kimchi-mandu with one chopstick and blows a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. She needs to schedule a haircut. Again. And Goose is due a trip to the groomers. Damn Avengers Assemble calls interfering with errand day. "That wasn't the first time we met."
"Friday, you are totally fired," Tony says, which gets an outraged protest from his AI through his StarkPhone's speakers and a snort from Carol. "How did I not know this?"
"It wasn't a good time for you." Which is about as delicate a way of saying, You were really into your coke and bourbon phase, and no I don't mean two liquids together as a mixed drink, as she can manage. Carol always left the diplomatic talk to slightly less hotheaded teammates if she could manage it. "And we've been out of touch for a long time."
"Yeah, losing your memory and fucking off to another quadrant to become a superhero is hell on keeping up with your stacked social calendar," Tony replies, but his mouth is so obviously running on autopilot she can practically see see the gears turning in his head. "Ohmygod." A pancake slips from between his chopsticks as he uses them to point at her. No manners at all, seriously. "You're Miss 90's Heartbreak!"
"That's a terrible superhero name." Carol shoves a dumpling in her mouth and tries very hard not to blush because that's Steve's job. Only one captain should have that problem on the team, dammit.
"Holy shit, you and Rhodey have totally banged." Tony looks like his birthday and Christmas simultaneously came early. "I have to completely rewrite my knowledge of all, like, three of his relationships since 1995."
"1994." Carol very valiantly doesn't facepalm at the devilish gleam in Tony's eyes.
"Oh, excuse me, 1994." Tony's broad grin slips sideways and his eyes crinkle at the corners and Carol totally gets the broad appeal of the whole 'genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist' thing when he's like this. "Damn. Not bringing this up?"
"Not with team." Carol tucks a couple of 10,000-won notes underneath her glass and stands, rolling her shoulders for a quick stretch. "Rhodey if you really can't help yourself. It's not like it's news to him."
Tony nods and adds his own handful of notes -- the waitstaff is going to have a very good week -- before rising to his feet. He drops a hand to her shoulder for a brief squeeze before flicking a wrist. In moments he's hovering, all but his face covered by the suit.
"See you back at the mansion?" He says it like it's actually a question, like one tiny bit of prying into her personal life is going to send her fleeing for the hills and well. That's not entirely unfair. Saying she was skittish for her first months back on Earth would be putting it mildly.
"Yeah, definitely. Might make a quick stop in San Francisco to say hi to Hope for a bit before heading back."
"I'd tell you to pass on a 'hi' from me," Tony smirks, "but something tells me it's actually a very sad attempt at a euphemism."
"It is." Carol smirks right back and raises one arm. "But I'll still say hello for you."
They take off, twirling around each other in coordinated spirals. The part of Carol that will always miss flying formations in her F-16 aches, hard and high in her throat.
And if she blinks back a few stray tears as they break off on their separate flight paths, that's just between her and the sky.