glass seat home
we run into a dark room
and we spasm to the sounds
of a copy of morrissey
or the blues of the deep south
and the drugs will only hide it
the feeling never really goes
you won't find love at the bottom
of a glass seat home
- amber run, "5am"
10.
Tony loads his luggage into the trunk of Steve's big paint-peeling van without a word. He's been uncharacteristically quiet ever since he came out of the dorm building, but they don't care or notice. "They" being Bruce, Thor, Steve, Bucky, Clint, and Natasha. But it's not like they should, anyway. Not after what Tony has done. Not after they've been generous enough to take Tony in, even though he doesn't know what Coulson could've said to convince them. They barely even know him, after all.
After everyone's climbed into the van, Steve starts the engine and backs out of the SHIELD parking lot, laughing as Bucky tells him something, presumably a joke. Meanwhile, Tony is pressing himself as close as he can to the side of the car, because the last thing he wants to do is accidentally shift into Bruce and have the boy jerk back from him like he's a disease. Since he finished Bucky's prosthetic arm, his science seatmate has been tentatively warming up to him again, but Tony doesn't trust it to last. Good things never last.
He looks around the car as Steve gets onto a highway. Bruce and Thor - the latter of which is telling a story to the other boy in a booming voice - are seated in the back with him. Clint and Natasha are in front of them, heads tucked together and whispering. Tony hates looking at them because when he does, he remembers Clint's earlier kindness in the gardens and feels a little ill at how quickly the guy realized Tony wasn't worth it. Bucky and Steve are way up front, one in the driver's and one in the passenger's seat respectively, and they're howling with laughter over the music pumping through the speakers.
Tony saddens, watching them all. He doesn't belong here, with these people who act like a big happy family. He supposes he doesn't really have a family, besides Howard and Maria. Sure, Pepper and Rhodey are his best friends and they've stuck around for at least two years (without haggling for money and leaving him to the wolves), so they've got to count for something. But Tony doesn't deceive himself into believing they love him. People like him don't deserve love, don't get love. And sooner or later his best friends are going to realize that and walk away, because they're smart enough to know when something's toxic.
He checks his phone; there are the standard "have a good break! i'll miss u!" texts from various SHIELD High students and a funny GIF from a kid named Harley he used to tutor (they never really got any math done though; plus the kid is whip smart - just forgets his homework a lot - and pulls great pranks). There's nothing else to do on this two-hour drive to the border of Pennsylvania where Steve's little country house is, so Tony closes his eyes and tips his head against the headrest. Eventually, to the lull of the car and the music and people talking, he falls asleep.
"- ony. Tony," is the first thing Tony hears when he blearily blinks open his eyes.
"Mm?" he says, still only half-conscious. He peers upward to see Bruce's glasses-adorned face hovering over him.
"We're here," Bruce says, snapping Tony into sudden awareness.
"Oh. Oh. Sorry," he says, and follows the other boy out of the van while stifling a big yawn. Once he's outside and is rolling his luggage across the driveway (more like a huge area of dirt), Tony takes in Steve's house in its entirety for the first time. It's actually fairly large even if a little rickety looking, although probably only a fiftieth of Tony's own home. From what he can tell, Steve's not from a very wealthy family, so this mostly-isolated location must have gotten them a cheap deal.
Has Rogers grown up here?
Inside is nothing like Tony's ever had before; pairs of shoes are scattered in the hallway, and the carpet is worn down from age and use. Pepper and Rhodey's houses were more like this, he realizes. But not his; never his. The Malibu mansion is pristine and sophisticated; they have thirty cleaners as part of the household staff. Steve's house is... less so. It's more cramped, although that might be because of all the objects stuffed in the rooms and left in the hallways. It carries warm, lived-in tones where the Stark mansion is more similar to a fancy hospital. It's... well, Tony likes it, even if it also evokes the feeling of something bitter inside.
As the group walks through the living room, Tony notices there's a real tree decorated with lights, tinsel, and ornaments nestled in the corner. It's short and kind of wimpy to be honest, but the sight of it expands in his chest like a sort of dull ache. He's never put up a tree in his own home. Howard's always said that Christmas trees are too much work, and no one is ever going to see it anyway. And Tony does sort of agree, he does - everything his father says is quite logical, really. But still, a hollow feeling works its way up his insides as he tips his head up to look at the cheap but bright star glowing at the top of the Rogers' Christmas tree.
For a moment, Tony forgets himself - who he's with, why he's here, that he's not welcome. "Nice tree, Rogers," he blurts out.
Bucky steps closer to Steve protectively, instinctively; everyone seems to have forgotten that the Stark heir is there amidst their laughter and jokes. Barton gives him a dirty look, says, "You don't have to mock Steve just because you probably have much more fancy ones at home."
"No, that's not it. It's nice. I like it," Tony says quickly. "Um.... It's just very...Christmas-y."
Natasha and Thor are frowning (well, Natasha's frowning dangerously), and yeah, in hindsight he can see why he might be coming off as mocking.
"Not all of us are rich, Tony," Bruce says quietly, his eyes downcast. For the first time, Tony realizes that Bruce must be poor - not even middle-class - and wonders ashamedly how he didn't notice before. How many times has he flaunted his wealth with ease in front of his science buddy, completely oblivious to the ratty sneakers Bruce wears and his worn jackets? He guesses he's just been so caught up in the thrill of someone decent who he can talk science with that it hadn't even crossed his mind to check, that.... Gosh, he's a terrible friend.
"I'm not mocking," he says, and has his second realisation of the day: no one believes him for a moment.
"Sure, Stark," Barnes says, and wraps an arm around Steve. "Well, if you feel like hitchhiking all the way back to Malibu since you think you're too good for us, you're welcome to leave."
Hot, wounded anger flares up in Tony's chest. He knows he's not welcome, he knows it, but it doesn't make the words hurt any less. "Well, Rogers's tree is nice," he says viciously. "I mean, when's the last time you could get anything for fifty cents?"
"Bucky, stand down," Steve says, his voice faint in Tony's ears, and when the red haze clears he realizes a bristling Barnes has stepped forward into his space.
Barnes turns to Natasha and Clint. "You made us bring him here."
"Phil felt bad for Stark," Clint says, making a face. "What a mistake."
Thor, who's been quiet up till now, says with the kind of deep, quiet grace that makes everyone hush and listen to you: "Let us ignore our guest Stark then. He is not important enough to squabble over, and I opine to enjoy my stay here and celebrate with you all rather than concern myself over petty, insignificant things."
Tony thinks, ouch, and then wonders absentmindedly, medieval Scandinavian?
There's a silence, and then Bucky breaks it by saying loudly, "Okay, let's go up to our room." He tousles Steve's hair, his face immediately shifting from stiff to relaxed and fond.
Room? Are we all...staying in the same room?
Realizing that he's about to be left behind, Tony spares one more glance at the tree gleaming with silver and gold tinsel and goes after the group. In Steve's room, everyone lays out sleeping bags and pillows, even Steve himself. Tony's the only one who didn't bring a sleeping bag, but he's got a thin blanket and pillow he snatched from his dorm room at the last second. Awkwardly, he assembles his things in a corner, far enough away from everyone else that he can get some peace.
Bruce comes over and tells Tony, "We're going out to have a snowball fight." He shuffles a little. "You're welcome to join."
It's painfully obvious that Bruce doesn't mean it. He's just too nice of a guy to show it. "I'm fine," Tony mutters. "It's fine. I don't care. I'm going to stay up here and text my friends." Friends, what friends, you mean all those people you hang out with at school that would drop you if you didn't throw money and caution to the wind like it's nothing? Howard snarls in his head.
Bruce nods - well, that was quick; guess Tony's assumption was correct after all - and then he's out the door with everyone else. After a few minutes, Tony can hear whooping and yelling outside, and he goes over to the window to see all of them crouching behind walls of ice and flinging snow at each other. He sees Bruce, normally so reserved, laughing hard as his ball catches Clint in the face. He sees Bucky, Clint, and Steve, all hard looks around Tony Stark, running around more carefree than he thought they could possibly be. And even Natasha is smiling too, which is so at odds with her typical death-glare expression; and Thor is stripping his shirt off to dive into the snow, only proving Tony's point that this guy is from a different planet entirely.
It's actually a little beautiful, how a group of people can come together like that. Maybe families are like that too - not that he'd ever find out.
After replying to a few texts that have come in while he's been here, Tony curls up on top of his blanket and wraps it around his feet, a vague sense of lonely wistfulness meandering through his head. He's too afraid to go downstairs or outside or through this rickety two-story house at all, so he just scrolls through his camera roll in dispassionate boredom. He has few pictures - a lot of Pepper, most of Rhodey, some of other SHIELD students that were taken for laughs but don't really matter to him.
God, if he has to spend the next week cooped up like this, he might die. It's one thing to be lonely because no one's around; it's another thing entirely to be alone surrounded by people.
Suddenly, he hears the floorboards creaking outside Rogers's room and he looks up to see a woman enter through the doorway. She has kind eyes and soft blonde hair, and he can see a bit of Steve in her smile and the eye shape and blue color. So. Rogers's mother, then.
"Oh, hi, Ms. Rogers," Tony says, never one to be impolite when facing an adult. He ramps up the charm to a hundred percent; he knows what every woman looks for, what every man looks for. They're all the same. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Anthony, but you can call me Tony." For some odd reason though, it feels vaguely uncomfortable to be putting on a smile in front of this woman. She seems different, somehow.
Ms. Rogers laughs and says, "Call me Sarah then. How come you aren't out and about with the rest of your friends? Too tired? I must say, I don't think I've ever seen you around before. But I have a terrible memory, as Steve likes to remind me."
Tony shakes his head quickly; the beginning of a knot forms in his stomach. "Ro...Steve was nice enough to let me stay here. Uh, they probably didn't let you know. But I was going to stay at SHIELD over winter break and the heating broke, so..." He shrugs lamely. "I came here."
"That sounds awful," Sarah says as she grabs an empty glass from the nightstand and heads back to the door. "Well, I'm glad you're here, Tony. I promise, we don't bite."
You will once you find out I broke your son's best friend's metal arm, Tony thinks darkly, watching her go. Then he drops back down to the blankets and pulls out his phone.
During dinner, Ms. Rogers - Sarah - doesn't say anything about the appearance of a sleeker, prettier arm, so Steve must've told her about James's...situation beforehand. It's possible she just doesn't care, but this bright-eyed woman doesn't seem the sort to overlook that sort of thing, even if Barnes isn't her son. Tony wonders briefly why Sarah hasn't ripped his head off yet, but then realizes Steve must've only described the culprit as "Stark." And Sarah doesn't seem to know he's a Stark. After all, he thinks bitterly, who would think the heir to a multi-billion dollar corporation would be staying at some country shack in the middle of nowhere on Christmas vacation?
Across the table, Barnes slings an arm across Rogers's broad shoulders. They look so happy and complete together, Barnes's dark hair framing his white grin, Steve's head tilted close.
Tony watches all of this with casual disinterest. To be honest, he had already assumed the two were dating. They just seem like a couple - knowing what the other's going to say, moving together flawlessly, always saying the right thing to get each other to laugh. Hell, he barely knows them, and he could already tell from two hours spent in their company.
Natasha says something sarcastically and the whole table erupts into loud, raucous laughter. Rogers winces while Barnes points at the redhead and yells back, mock-angry.
"I hope you remember a mother is present," Ms. Rogers says dryly, and for a second Tony anticipates the anger - the slam of a hand against the table, a threatening word - but Steve's mom just seems...amused?
It takes a second for his heart to settle back down.
"Oh God," Steve moans into his hands, and everyone bursts out laughing.
The rest of dinner passes in quick succession; Barnes and Rogers and Thor can apparently eat double their body weight in spaghetti before getting full, and Natasha eats as gracefully as she moves. A couple of times, Sarah tries to engage Tony in conversation, but when she does the table just goes silent and eventually she stops.
"Okay, who's on clean-up duty today," Sarah says, and Bucky points at Thor and Bruce. Then he looks at Tony for the first time in several hours and mutters, "I guess you can go with me and Nat on Thursday, then."
"Hey," Clint offers softly, "we can switch, Barnes. If you want. I'll go with Nat, and you can go with Steve, yeah?"
Barnes's mouth flattens out, and for a moment it looks like he's going to agree. But then he spares a quick glance at Ms. Rogers and mutters, "It's fine, Clint. It's just washing dishes. I don't - it's okay."
Tony nods awkwardly as everyone gets up and Thor and Bruce begin to clear the table. It's weird how at ease the two look in a home that isn't their own, and once again a sort of wistfulness comes back to Tony and fills his lungs. Imagine that, his brain says cheerfully, taunting. Imagine having a family like that.
"We'll be upstairs in our room," Rogers calls to Bruce and Thor, and Thor booms out acknowledgement before they both return to washing dishes. Not entirely sure what to do, Tony just trails after Rogers, Barnes, Natasha, and Clint, ignoring that little squirm in his gut that wishes he could live like this.
When Bruce and Thor come back, they play "Never Have I Ever." Surprisingly, Tony is invited to play, although this might have more to do with Rogers's overwhelming morality and Bruce's uncertain pity than an actual invitation of friendship. He settles into the circle hesitantly between Barton and Bruce, and tries to ignore how the atmosphere tenses at his presence.
"Never have I ever...gone skiing," Steve starts, and Clint says, "C'mon, Steve, you can do better than that. This is Never Have I Ever."
"Fine, alright," Steve says with a blush. "Never have I ever... had sex."
Tony drops a finger immediately, and even though Clint, Natasha, and Thor all do too, Barton looks at him and sneers, "No surprise there."
"Your mother certainly liked it," Tony hisses, and the air between them lengthens and stretches like it's going to snap.
"I swear to God, Stark, if you ever say something like that again to Clint," Barnes begins coldly, before shaking his head. He nods to Natasha, who's sat next to Steve. "Keep going."
"Never have I ever had a threesome," she says, shrugging. Tony puts another finger down, trying not to see the way Barton's lip curls in disgust. He remembers his first threesome in sophomore year back home. It was with two girls, and they'd been so attractive - these two busty eighteen year olds with ultra-red lips and long lashes.
"Never have I ever had an orgy," Barton says, his eyes on Tony, and thankfully Tony hasn't.
When it gets to his turn, he takes a deep breath, then mutters, "Never have I ever had a Christmas tree."
The circle is dead silent, then Clint says incredulously: "What the fuck?"
"Sorry," Tony mumbles, instantly regretting his decision. He should've just said 'never have I ever been to Alaska" or something dumb like that. He shouldn't use this game to justify something that happened hours ago. "I just wanted to.... I meant it when I said I wasn't mocking you. Earlier." He waves at hand at Rogers, who's staring at him. "I thought your tree was cool. I don't know."
"Bullshit," Clint spits. "What, do you guys put up a technological light show instead or something?"
Tony's hackles rise, but then he remembers again that he deserves this; Clint's just being a protective, good friend. "I just don't have a tree," he says defensively. "That's it. Why do you care?"
Clint raises his chin indignantly. "Tell me why you don't put up a tree then, rich boy."
Tony shrugs. Okay, if Barton really wants to know. What is the guy even expecting? "It's a waste of time to put up. It's a waste of time to take down. No one but the household staff is ever going to see it."
"Household staff," Clint snorts, effectively ignoring the rest of Tony's words. "Jesus, what's it like to be that spoiled?"
"Clint," Steve says warningly, and the boy in question huffs and falls silent. "Okay, your turn, Bruce."
After that, the game kind of falls apart; and based on the looks Tony's getting, it's all his fault. It seems like no matter what he does, what he says, they're not going to like him or even get used to him. Watching them all, getting along so well together, Tony almost wishes that he had met them under different circumstances. So that maybe they'd be more than just the unsuspecting kids who were forced to save his ass and take him home.
That night, as they all huddle in their sleeping bags and whisper in hushed tones to each other, Tony hears Thor's not-so-quiet whisper voice regaling the group with a tale of what appears to be a memory of a prank his brother once pulled on their parents. He turns over and presses his ear hard into the pillow, curling up into himself in the warmth created by his own body heat and blanket. (It's a little cold, but like hell he's going to impose even more by asking for a thicker blanket.)
Closing his eyes, Tony wills the tension to leave his body, and eventually - lulled to unconsciousness by the soft murmur of laughing voices - he drifts into sleep.