a matter of house and home
but we can't change the weather
when the weather's come and gone
- "party favor", billie eilish
3.
For the next week and a half before fall break, Bruce refuses to talk to Tony about anything besides class materials or borrowing supplies. On the last day of school, just as the bell's ringing to signal the beginning of lunch, Tony tries one last time and says, "Bruce, please."
With a sigh, Bruce removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Tony."
"Can I just talk to you? For one second?"
"Listen," Bruce says as the classroom empties out and leaves them standing alone. "I'm sorry I've been...distant lately, but it's just a bit much to get over. Bucky's my friend, and he lost his arm in a pretty bad accident two years ago. It took him a long time to get used to wearing a prosthetic, and you took that from him like it was nothing."
"I know, I'm sorry," Tony insists after he realizes "Bucky" must mean James. Shame puddles heavy in his gut, but there's also something inside him that wants Bruce to know he didn't do it on purpose.
"No, Tony." Bruce gives a half-smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I know you're sorry. And I know you were just probably full of adrenaline and aimed for the thing that would hurt most without really thinking about it. But people like me - people like Bucky - don't have money we can just...throw around. He can't just up and buy another arm like that. The family he lives with can't afford it."
Tony notes the weird phrasing of the last sentence but decides wisely not to comment on it. "Okay," he says softly. "Yeah. I fucked up, I know." Bruce's eyes soften a smidgen. "But I just...I'm smart. I know a bit about prostheses. I can, um, make Barnes an arm. Better than that HammerTech junk he was wearing before. I just need you to get me a scan and some measurements of his arm and the old prosthetic that I, um, ruined." Tony swallows, realizing his hasty speech isn't as refined as he intended. He just hopes he hasn't offended Bruce in any way.
Bruce looks up like he's never seen Tony before. "I thought you were just saying that," he says slowly. "You'd actually make Bucky an arm?"
"Well." Tony shrugs uncomfortably. "Thanksgiving break is coming up, and my house has a workshop and a lab I can use." He doesn't mention both are strictly Howard's; he can probably predict when his father will be out of the mansion anyway.
"You know, Bucky hates handouts. He's still really upset, and honestly, so am I."
"I understand," Tony says softly. "You don't have to, I mean, don't tell him I'm doing this. Just get me what I need and I'll give the arm to you after break and you can help him put it on. Don't tell him where you got it from."
"Why would you do it then?" Bruce says, a small frown on his face. "Just as an anonymous gift?"
"Well, yeah." If even his science buddy thinks this little of Tony - that he needs his name to be plastered all over his good deeds - then...wow. His confidence curdles in his stomach, frail and crumbly. "I damaged his old arm, so I should make him a new one, right?"
Bruce shakes his head, but all the wariness has left his eyes. "I know what Bucky's prosthesis meant to him, and what it symbolized," he says. "I know what it feels like to lose...to lose things. So I can't forgive you yet. But you're capable of caring, and not a lot of people realize that."
Tony swallows and looks down.
"I'll have the scans and everything to you by tonight," Bruce says as he slings his bag over his shoulder. "Don't forget to check your email."
"Have a good break," Tony calls tentatively to the other boy's back as the door opens.
"You, too, Tony," Bruce says quietly before the door shuts closed again.
Still standing next to the tables, Tony shoves his books quickly into his backpack and hurries over to the exit. It's weird, but his mood is already lighter. Maybe he can still make things right. Maybe if he makes Barnes his new arm, Bruce will like him again and Clint will stop glaring and all their other friends will stop pinning him down with their eyes in the hallways.
He can already hear Howard saying, Oh, so that's what you're doing it for, Anthony? To feel better about the piece of shit you are?
Tony closes his eyes. Thankfully, the hall is empty. Shut up, he whispers to the ghost of his father that nestles in his brain. Leave me alone. He allows himself a moment to sag against the door and just breathe, the sounds of teenagers hooting and shouting traveling faintly down the corridor. Then he adjusts the strap of his bag and heads down the hall toward lunch and Becky and Tiberius Stone.
Everything between after school to his first step into the mansion is a blur. He vaguely remembers, as if it were a dream, the gold and red and pink sunset filtering through the hazy clouds from his window seat on the plane, and thinking about how November skies always seem to be the prettiest. He remembers calling his personal driver to take him home, and the yellow streetlights and the familiarity of the streets and highways. But nothing really registers until he enters the dark, air-conditioned house at one am in the morning. No one is waiting for him, and he doesn't expect anyone to be. He hadn't planned to come home at all until Barnes's arm, in fact. He's left a voicemail on the answering machine here telling his family he was coming home, but knowing them, it's probably still sitting on it unheard.
Quietly, Tony creeps up to his room, navigating the winding staircases and hallways he knows so well, even in the dark. The sudden exhaustion he feels hits him out of nowhere, and he doesn't even bother brushing his teeth or changing his clothes. Tony falls into bed, crawling under the cold covers shivering, until he warms up and his heartbeat slows and sleep takes him away to a far off place.
In the morning, Tony showers quickly and throws on a long-sleeve and sweatshirt before ambling, in slippers, down to the kitchen. It's 10am, so it's likely his parents have already eaten breakfast. There is still no one around, which is the downside of living in such a huge place - anyone could be anywhere, and now there's nobody to notice he's home.
As he sits on the sofa in the cosiest of the three living rooms, spooning cereal into his mouth and watching TV absentmindedly, he hears a sudden gasp and then - "Anthony?"
Tony turns. He sees Maria in the doorway, his beautiful mother who had tried as best she could to love him. She's even frailer now than three months ago, probably because of this empty house and the relaxant drugs he knows she does. "Mamma," he says, and feels all his barricades crumbling down.
Mother and son embrace in the middle of the room. "I've missed you, mio Antonio," his mom whispers into his ear. "How come you didn't call, telling me you were coming home? I thought I'd have to spend Thanksgiving alone."
Tony feels a pang knowing that his mother had purposely excluded her husband from her statement. "I left a message on the voicemail machine," he says softly. "I guess no one listened to it."
Maria cups her son's face in her hands. "Mi dispiace. I'm sorry, Antonio."
"No mama, it's alright." Tony gives his mother a brief kiss on the cheek. "Where's Dad?"
Maria's expression flickers a bit. "Out. With Obadiah. Probably drinking already; they're celebrating. Stocks are higher than they've ever been in the past ten years."
"Wow," Tony says, because he really is impressed. But then he realizes with a jolt that there's time for him to work on Barnes's arm if Howard's partying. "When will he be back?"
Maria looks more closely at her son. "Probably not until after midnight," she says. "What will you be doing?"
"Working on something," Tony says, and because it's his mom and he won't hide things from her, "in Dad's lab. It's really important and it's to help a friend."
"Alright, bambino mio," his mother says, touching his face almost reverently like she hadn't expected to see him back until summertime. It makes him feel guilty, that through trying to avoid Howard he's left his mom alone as well. "But be careful. If he comes home early, I'll come get you."
"I love you," Tony says, tasting the words in his mouth and finding he means it. Starks, they're not big on sentiment. Then he turns and goes quickly back to his room to get his laptop and check for Bruce's email.