For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.
(1 Corinthians 13:12, New American Standard Bible)
The Avengers--like the rest of the world and perhaps some small outposts in space--knew exactly who Tony Stark was. And they hated him for it.
No one could deal with him--hell, not even the people he loved the most could. It was always--
“Yeah. Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”
“He's a sickness!”
“I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark.”
“That's all you got? A cheap trick and a cheesy one-liner?”
“And you're all about style, aren't you?”
"You're out of control, okay?"
“--the Iron Man weapon”
“What kind of world would it be today if he was as selfish as you?”
“--guys with none of that worth ten of you.”
"You have become a problem, a problem I have to deal with."
“Blow somethin' up!”
“I had to leave while I still had a shred of dignity.”
“I'm not going to be a part of it."
“I am trying to do the job that you were meant to do."
“That's not up to you.”
“Unlike you, I don't have a lot of time for parties.”
"I'm surprised you can keep your mouth shut."
“Come to confess your sins?”
"I'm sorry, I'm not that kind of doctor. I'm not a therapist. It's not my training."
“I would do whatever I wanted to do, with whomever I wanted to do it with.”
“Iron Man: Yes. Tony Stark: Not Recommended.”
"Remind me how you made your fortune, Mr Stark."
“Where do you think he gets that?”
“Oh no, Tony's right. It IS the End Times.”
“Whether you'd tell us is a bit of a question.”
"Tony, maybe this might not be the time..."
“I've got my eye on you.”
“The Avengers were supposed to be different from S.H.I.E.L.D.”
“Do me a favor. Try not to bring it to life.”
“Always a way out.”
“Like old times?”
“You know you may not be a threat but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”
Tony Stark was the Avenger’s patron, their mechanic, and they had no room for Tony. Iron Man was to join them for missions by virtue of the suit being one of their heavy hitters, but Tony was a Consultant and nothing more. Iron Man was drilled for answers, and Tony was told to shut up.
They didn’t think of either man--and wasn’t that damn confusing? It’s ME. I AM Iron Man- -as a teammate, and like hell were either a friend.
A few moments over the years had made Tony wonder--a conversation that ended without a derisive verbal slap, a warm expression thrown his way after he handed over an upgrade. Like--maybe friendship might be in their future. Maybe they just needed a little more time.
But time passed, and a space didn’t open up. Tony did little more than parry and deflect--with words, expressions, quick exits, and days at a time when JARVIS was his only companion.
JARVIS had been so good at knowing when to play off a joke and when to actually talk. Tony had no clue who had taught him that.
(knew it hadn’t been Tony)
But he wasn’t deflecting tonight.
A year had passed--and how was that possible? It felt like it had been days. It felt like the first few hours after, when silence filled the Tower like poisonous gas, taking all Tony’s strength and never letting him die.
He didn’t deserve the easy out.
It had been one year since Tony’s most advanced child was murdered in their home, under Tony’s very feet as he sat with the Avengers. JARVIS had died while that tiny, idiotic hope--that maybe they need time-- stirred in Tony’s chest.
A year ago, JARVIS had died alone.
Since the Avengers saw him walk through the door of the Compound earlier that morning, Tony had felt the weight of Maximoff’s glares, had born Romanoff’s hot/cold gas-lighting, and had shrugged off Captain America’s weary disappointment.
Of course, as if the hostile atmosphere hadn’t been primed enough, Barton’s arrival was a garnish on top of the cheesecake.
“You didn’t bring the kids?” Rogers asked, after embracing the man.
“Didn’t think it was a good idea,” Barton replied, eyes travelling around the room--not landing on where Tony sat at the breakfast island, but it was all a bit too casual to be real. “Not here , at least.” Ah. There goes the casual.
Rogers’ face was grim as he too was very carefully not looking away from his friend. Tony wanted to roll his eyes.
Which next? Tony mused. He’s here to comfort Maximoff, or he thinks it’s good to support the team, in spite of SOME PEOPLE.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Rogers said with a smile. “Wanda could use the support.” That’s one...
“Yeah, I imagine we all could.” Another barely-subtle pass of eyes around the room. Eh, that’s close enough. I win everything! “Any word from Bruce?” Barton asked.
Rogers shook his head.
The archer’s friendly mask slipped--not that it had been super effective, but it was the little things. “Not recommended for a reason, Cap.”
Annnnnnd, there it is.
“Clint…”
As planned, at this lovely turn, Tony rose, walking the short distance from the kitchen to the bar--eyes still glued to his phone--where he grabbed the glass of scotch sitting on the wood-top waiting for him. As he took a sip, Tony lifted his eyes and “flinched” in surprise at Barton’s presence.
“Birdy!” he cried. “Safe flight? Are your wings tired?”
Barton’s mouth bore down into a hard line-- my god, how was this man a spy?-- lips twisting up into something that only tangentially resembled a smile.
“Stark. Nice to see you haven’t changed.”
Tony waved a hand lazily. “I never do.”
“No,” Barton said. “You don’t, do you?”
Rogers stepped in, doing that thing where his face looked like it was being punished when forced to be in Tony’s presence.
“Tony--didn’t you say you were here to update the security system?” The soldier's pale eyebrows rose expectantly.
“Mhmm.” Another sip.
“Then why don’t you go do that now?”
Tony made them wait a beat--then three more, taking another sip and savoring it, delighting in the irritation that was birthed anew in wonderful ways all over their faces.
“I own the building,” Tony reminded him. “And almost everything inside it. Like this kitchen, for instance. I’m not sure if we ever got to that power-point, Frosty Frisbee, but I’ll give you the gist: I do what I want.”
“No one cares what you own, Stark,” Maximoff said, stalking into the room with red in her eyes--which of course no one acknowledged. “Besides--a family is people, not some building. And you’re not included.”
“That’s sort of a non sequitur,” Tony replied mildly. “Who the hell said anything about family?”
“Of course YOU wouldn’t understand.” The scarlet was spilling out from her fingertips, and the top layer of her long brown hair was lifting up from the scalp, strands writhing in a non-existent breeze. No one said a word about it. “You aren’t a part of anything, you’ve destroyed your own family and now you do the same to everyone else.”
“Hmm…” Was all he offered. “By the way--” Tony took another sip, unmoved by her continued display of power. “Vision doesn’t say hi.”
Maximoff shrieked, and this time Rogers actually stepped in--to comfort her, the poor fragile waif. Plaster was cracking on the ceiling above their heads and it trickled down to frost their hair like rice at a wedding, but my god, the damsel--protect her at all costs!
Wilson and Romanoff burst into the room from separate directions--probably because of the tremors. Made sense. That’s that Red Room and military training at work. All those tax dollars and...KGB dollars?
“Bring him BACK!” Maximoff snarled.
“Who?”
“VISION. I know you’re keeping him from me, and you have no right . This is his family--you can’t just keep him as a pet so you have something else to ruin.”
Tony walked away, heading to the giant, floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. It was fully dark out, trees for miles in this direction, and he stood, nursing his drink, idly watching the reflection of the Avengers assemble in the room behind him.
“You do know,” Tony said, “that the man has an Infinity Stone in his forehead and IS the internet?” He watched Romanoff and Barton exchange a weighted glance. “Pretty sure I couldn’t make him do anything--not even if I wanted to. And I’m kind of a genius. When I say ‘kind of,’ you can just mentally delete those words from a sentence.”
“Tony--” THERE was the world-weary soldier, “--today really isn’t the day for this.”
“I disagree. I can mourn any way I like.”
“You lost NOTHING.” Maximoff’s face twisted . “I lost the very last of my family--you killed ALL of them, and you don’t have the right to mourn!” Big, fat tears were tumbling down her cheeks, and Steve practically had a seizure as he wrapped his arms around her tighter.
Tony didn’t say-- “I lost JARVIS.” Because no one cared. Even if they did believe that AI were people, they wouldn’t care that TONY had lost someone. Not when the absence of that fact was so much better for their argument.
Tony DID say--“I don’t actually care about you or your dipshit brother.”
The whole room swarmed with gasps and outraged faces.
He shrugged. “I don’t. If justice had been served, the both of you would be facing a slew of indictments for terrorism, crimes against humanity, first and second degree murder, and the unlawful coercion of innocents by means of metal manipulation and magic. Guess whose fault it was that Hulk went on a rampage through Johannesburg? No, really--guess.”
“That’s not fair,” Wilson said, shaking his head.
“Hmm.” Tony nodded at him as if he had made a good point. “The people of Johannesburg and Doctor Bruce Banner see it very differently.”
Steve’s jaw looked like it was about to snap. “Wanda didn’t realize what she was doing. She was brainwashed and now that she’s out of Hydra’s control she’s sorry.”
“Hey, Friday.”
“Yeah, Boss?” The Avengers, as a group--minus Natasha--flinched. She rarely spoke when they were in the area. She didn’t like being treated like a thermostat with Google for a brain--her words.
“What’s the next read in our book club?”
“I was thinking of going with Wanda Maximoff’s file from the leaked Hydra records,” Friday said. Tony was so proud of her, she was really growing into an awesome, take-no-prisoners sort of gal. “I mean--there’s no redeeming characters, and it’s SO predictable. But I sort of want to read something trashy.”
“Breaking Dawn not do it for you?”
“Not really.”
Tony snorted. The others looked like they had drunk some of Vision’s lemonade--it really wasn’t the guy’s fault. He was exploring new flavors--which he couldn’t taste.
Maximoff’s scarlet web was practically woken around Rogers--but wasn’t it always?
Tony sighed. “Your time with Hydra involved more than a couple parking tickets. It’s almost overshadowed your little weekend with Ultron.”
“Shut the fuck up, Stark.” Barton had his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles were Twilight-pale.
“Nah, don’t think I will.”
“Tony.” Steve--hero that he was--stepped up, ready to begin his appeal.
“You see--” Tony continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. The ice in the crystal tumbler--which Rogers eyed disapprovingly--clinked merrily as he gestured. “I don’t care what any of you think.”
“Of course you don’t,” said Wilson.
“I know the weight of my sins. Go ahead and heap on all your baggage and blame.”
Tony nodded at Maximoff’s reflection and watched their expressions flicker in the glass. In particular, he noted Romanoff’s perfect alloy of patronization and concern, reflected back to him somehow softer than it had ever existed in reality.
All he could do was laugh. “Hate me while wearing clothes that I bought you, stomachs filled with food that I provided, and stand here now in a building that is mine. Go ahead, pile on that blame.” Tony turned to face them. “Against the mountain of things I already carry--the things that are really mine? It’ll be the weight of a feather. It doesn’t mean a damn.”
“I don’t care if you feel guilty,” Maximoff said. “I want you dead. ”
Not a single one of Earth’s mightiest heroes stepped up to tell her that murder was wrong.
Tony jostled the ice in his glass. “That’s nice.”
“Jesus, Stark.” Barton was an unregulated weapon. “Not everything’s about you.”
Canting his head to the side, Tony smiled.
“Dying is very personal to me. Every time.” He tipped his head back, draining the glass, and set it on the bar with a clink. “Now. As your landlord, operating under the laws set in place by the State of New York, as of twelve minutes ago you have 72 hours to move out.”
You could have heard a feather hit a mountain.
“You can’t do that!”
“You really can’t, man,” Wilson said--because they were all friends, you see. This was maybe the fifth sentence that the man had ever directed to Tony that wasn’t about the Falcon suit--and his doubts that Tony really knew how to maintain the Falcon suit, in spite of Tony drafting the majority of the patented prototype years earlier--but look at how we’re all friends! “The law says 30 days notice, at least.”
“Tony,” Romanoff said gently. “I understand that you’re upset, but this really isn’t the move you want to make. Not right now, when things are still so fresh. This is important.”
“Fuck off, Rushman,” Tony said with a beaming smile.
He turned to the slightly less-annoying bird in the room. “And no--the Avengers are on a fixed-term lease with the owner of this property. That’s me. The term that was fixed was one year . You--all of you, including the newly minted members--signed said lease the day you moved into the Compound, which was--you guessed it--three days after Ultron. The term expires in three days--I’m not renewing it, and you’re out on your asses the moment that window is up.”
You honestly could see the rage building up--in their faces, in their breathing, their body language--like a new person, a new Vision birthed from the conflict.
Please say the thing, please say the thing, please say the thing…
“We’re not going anywhere,” Maximoff said, tilting her chin up like a princess. “This is our home.”
Yay!
“But sweetie--” Tony made his eyes wide and dewy, just like she was wont to do. “I thought a home was people, not a building .” He mimed wiping away a tear. “Oh well. Me and my building will be very happy together, and meanwhile, you and the rest of the brave little toasters might want to contact the YMCA. I hear their rooms are very affordable--but wait!” he gasped. “Can you afford even reasonable prices when you have no financial backer?”
Oh, the rage was immense.
“Tony, you don’t have to do this,” said Rogers through clenched teeth.
“Really?” Tony lifted a finger. “Double check that for me, Fri.”
“I’m positive that you do, Boss.”
“Ah, that’s right.”
Fuck You (Very Much) began to play from the speakers.
“You little shit.” Barton advanced on him, muscles coiled and face primed for murder.
Not a single person moved to stop Barton, not a single soul spoke up in Tony’s defense.
The retired spy wrapped his hands around Tony’s neck, and for a moment every person in the room gaped in shock--especially Barton.
Tony’s body crumbled into static, as did the glass that he had placed on top of the bar. The only thing left was a small, circular device which fell from where it had been sitting at about eye-height inside hologram-Tony’s head. It hit the floor with a ping and then promptly imploded.
Laughter erupted from the ever-invisible speakers--it was joyous, and just on the edge of hysterical.
“Did you really think I’d spend a day as important as this one with the likes of you?”
“Tony,” Rogers whispered, still looking round like the inventor would jump out from around the corner and give them money.
“Three days,” Tony’s voice reminded them. “At 6:27 PM on the 8th, you and all of YOUR property will be out of this building. All your weapons and armor stay behind.”
Wilson especially sort of lurched in place, face dismayed.
“I hope you’ve been looking for sponsors. Maybe get a brand deal--I’m sure KFC would love to have their logo on a giant metal dinner plate.”
“Tony!” Rogers said again, this time with a heavy thread of warning.
The only answer was a dial tone--that, and that same song, which Friday refused to turn off, no matter how many times they asked, or how colorful the threats. It soon became clear that Tony’s “update to the system” gave them limited access at best, and that the AI was either gone from the Compound, or simply unwilling to speak to them.
Inside the newly re-fitted Stark Mansion, Tony was surrounded. He was sunk deep into the cushions with Rhodey and Pepper on either side. Vision sat cross-legged on the carpet at their feet, eyes trained on the television. (He was in love with the Twilight Zone, and Tony couldn’t wait to show him To Serve Man) Happy could be heard in the kitchen--he had actually agreed to make his chocolate-orange cheesecake. In the coveted La-Z-Boy recliner Bruce was all flopped out, drained from his flight, but awake enough to shoot a warm smile Tony’s way when their eyes met.
“You know what?” Tony stretched out his spine, arching his body so that he could brush his big toe against Vision’s shoulder. The Synthroid glanced back at him, blinking oddly-human eyes at Tony before his lips quirked up.
“What?” Friday asked, and Tony could still hear her eagerness--he had been right to include her in his little plan.
“I think Maximoff had a point.”
They all turned to him.
“REALLY?” Happy called. “Do tell, Boss. OUCH, goddamn zest.”
Rhodey knocked their shoulders together, and Pepper’s fingers wrapped around his wrist--her skin would always be warmer than a normal human, even with benign Extremis, but these days she only held on tighter.
Tony reached with his free hand to pluck his iced tea from the back of the couch, wiping some of the crystal tumbler’s condensation onto Rhodey’s face and giggling as he sputtered.
Tony took a sip, and then he shrugged.
“Who gives a fuck about a building?”
end