Inimitable

Tony stays in his room watching the trains go by. He still has no idea how they work and he’s run the numbers several times and still couldn’t figure it out. He’s pretty sure he has the freedom to leave the room he’s in but he has no real desire to do anything here. Wakanda, what little he’s seen of it, is beautiful but the land was a prison to him. Being pretty doesn’t endear it much to him. It takes a long, long time for someone to knock on the door and when it finally happens he sighs and pulls himself from the window seat and drags his ass to the door. When he opens it he’s unsurprised to find T’Challa there. “What do you want?” he asks, getting straight to the point.

T’Challa looks him over and he sees his hand twitch, like he’s thinking of lifting it, but he drops it before that happens. “You look exhausted,” he says and his hand twitches again but he leaves it at his side.

“I haven’t slept in awhile,” Tony says honestly. Barely any sleep since he left his country, which he full well knows isn’t a good thing but he can’t bring himself to sleep either.

For a long moment T’Challa considers him before he sighs. “Your room is prepared in our home,” he says, “I’m here to bring you to it.”

“Your home,” Tony corrects, “I’m just living in it.”

If he didn’t know any better he’d say T’Challa was hurt by the comment. Even if he is, by chance, upset by it Tony doesn’t care. “I would like it to be your home too,” he says softly.

“Not happening. But I might as well get this over with,” he mumbles.

T’Challa lets out a soft sigh, “alright, get your things. It’s a bit of a drive,” he tells him.

Tony’s shoulders slump further and he shuts the door, going back into the room he was now apparently leaving and he gathers his stuff. All of it fit in a single suitcase, which was almost more insulting than being sold off like a cow. His entire life is now in a bag. It doesn’t take him nearly as long as he’d like it to but he gets his stuff together and opens the door again, finding T’Challa standing there still. He looks Tony over and, to his surprise, gives Tony a sad look but there’s no pity there. For that Tony is thankful because he’s always hated pity. T’Challa goes to take his bag and he steps back, unwilling to release what little he has left to T’Challa and he sighs again, pulling his hand away from Tony.

“Follow me,” he says softly.

*

He hadn’t been looking forward to the ride but Shuri ended up being there, which was exciting because he had a bunch of questions she was nice enough to answer. Her bright personality made the trip less heinous. When he gets to the house though, and that was putting it liberally considering the sheer scale of the building, things take a trip down hill. First off he gets stuck with T’Challa again and someone has run off with his stuff so his already awful mood gets worse.

“It will be in your room likely by the time we get there,” T’Challa tells him but all he gets in response is a chilly glare. It wasn’t like Tony wanted much here; just to carry his own damn bag and apparently he couldn’t even get that. Tony says nothing, just follows T’Challa through the maze of a house until they finally get to a room. T’Challa opens the door and Tony at least finds his bag on the bed so he goes to it, checking for any signs of tampering not that he thinks he’d find any. He doubts the Wakandan guard is stupid enough to leave evidence anyways.

“My room is technically next to yours, we share a bathroom. I thought you might be more confortable with your own space,” T’Challa tells him in a soft tone. Tony doesn’t respond. Instead he walks over to the porch that sits to his left, curious about the trees that sat just beyond the reach of the structure. The forest was beautiful though it made his room significantly darker. Fitting really.

“You mother said you have some sleep issues. I thought the tree cover might help a little with the morning sun,” T’Challa explains. Well isn’t that just fucking helpful. At least he wasn’t going out of his way to be horribly unlikable but Tony wasn’t buying the act either. Assholes weren’t assholes right off the bat; they lulled you into things a little then acted like they owned you.

“Can I get some time to explore on my own?” he asks, voice softer than he’s ever heard it before. From disuse, he suspects. Normally he didn’t sound even remotely that demure and he decides he doesn’t like the change much.

T’Challa quickly nods, “of course. I’ll be next door, through the bathroom,” he reminds Tony. He doesn’t even bother to hide his eye roll as he turns back to face the trees. They probably had more interesting stories to tell anyways. He hears that T’Challa lingers for a few moments before he leaves, exhaling softly as he goes. As soon as the door clicks shut Tony feels the tension leave his body and he sighs, walking out on to the porch and he looks around. The trees were much healthier than he was used to seeing, which is curious, but he suspects this place has a library so he’ll go hunting for it later. Just because he has no interest in T’Challa doesn’t mean he isn’t curious about how Wakanda managed to survive in ways no one else did. Near everyone else was drastically affected by the harsh weather changes but Wakanda? From what he’s seen the country didn’t seem to suffer at all.

He reaches out and feels the leaves of the closest tree, which requires him to lean a little. They’re waxy and healthy in a way Tony has never felt before, which is interesting. He wonders what the wild life around here looks like too, if the animals fared as well as everything else seemed to. He’s considering the possibilities of how any of this was possible when someone knocks on his door. For someone who seemed so accommodating T’Challa sure was pressing his fucking luck but he goes to the door anyways, pulling it open with some pointed barbs prepared but he finds Shuri behind the door instead of T’Challa.

“Oh, hey,” he says, thrown off guard by her presence.

She grins, “move aside, I have food and honestly after researching what Americans eat I’m excited to expose you to real food,” she says, happily walking into his room. She makes it seem much brighter than it is with little more than her bright personality and smile. If T’Challa had his sister’s personality maybe this wouldn’t be so damn painful for him.

“American food is good, don’t knock it,” he says in his country’s defense. The only defense it was about to get from him, but still. He’s fond of American foods and he had his doubts about food here. Its not like he’s eaten much, mostly just some fruits that he recognized, and he wasn’t much willing to chance trying random foods here.

“Americans over salt everything and use no spices. Trust me, Wakandan food will open your eyes to the possibilities,” Shuri tells him, lifting the bag in her hand as if this demonstrated her point.

“No offense but I don’t really trust the food,” he says, giving the bag she’s holding a skeptical look.

Shuri looks offended nonetheless but lets it pass. “You’re just saying that because you have no idea what you’re missing. Plus why would we poison you? That’s just a waste of time and resources,” she says.

Tony squints, “is that supposed to make me feel better?” he asks.

“I mean a little. Come on, you need food and I brought the best of what Wakanda has to offer- it would be rude to say no,” she tells him but her tone is playful so it seems clear at least to him that she doesn’t actually believe that.

“If you can produce something that tastes better than a cheese burger I’ll be impressed,” he says knowing full well that that isn’t going to happen. It wasn’t like he got to eat the food often either- omegas were expected to remain extra healthy and then for some stupid reason they were expected to keep their families healthy too. Stupid if you ask him- its not his responsibility to look after anyone’s health but his own and if some random alpha in his general vicinity wanted to eat the hell out of seven packs of bacon Tony would join them. Natasha used to be nice enough to regularly sneak him food that didn’t taste like ass and he’s going to miss that.

“Cheese burger,” Shuri mumbles. “America has done a disservice to you,” she says. “Here, try this.” She hands him a dish from her bag that sort of looked like rice but he isn’t entirely sure what that is.

“Uh, what am I eating?” he asks.

“Just try it,” Shuri tells him. He gives her a skeptical look and she sighs, “I don’t know how to translate the food name into English and you don’t have comparable foods where you’re from so I don’t know how to describe it. Just eat it and tell me if you like it.”

He gives the food one more skeptical look and sighs, “um. Fine I guess, got a utensil in that bag of yours?” he asks. Shuri stares at the bag for a solid ten second before she throws her head back and lets out a loud groan.

“I knew I was forgetting something. I’ll be back,” she tells him, walking back out the door. He watches her go and stares after the half open door for a few moments before shrugging and opening the container the food is in. The first thing that he notices is that the food smells fantastic, the second thing he notices is his nose hair burning from the spice in there. Well okay, looks like he was going to have to readjust and thankfully he’s always had a secret fondness for spicy foods. Not that he ate them all that often but still.

It takes a few more moments for him to get curious enough to look through the rest of the food but when he does he finds that it all smells pleasant and only half of it smelled spicy. His stomach growls, reminding him that it’s been awhile since he’s eaten- too long probably but eating hasn’t exactly been his priority lately. He waits a few more moments before he finally eyes up what looked like some kind of meat and picks it up, sniffing it again before shrugging and deciding what the hell- might as well take a risk.

It’s fucking worth it too. He might not have any idea what he’s eating but it tasted fantastic- almost sweet but with a spicy undertone that worked with whatever kind of meat it was. Shuri walks in as he sticks the last of it in his mouth and groans, “that was the rest of it, wasn’t it? That’s my favorite,” she mumbles, eying the dish he just cleaned out.

“In my defense I was starving,” he says.

Shuri rolls her eyes, “excuses,” she says fondly. “Here, try that,” she tells him, pointing at the dish she initially sent his way after handing him a fork. He takes the utensil from her and picks up the food, giving it a weary eye before he stabs at it and sticks it in his mouth. It’s worth it because that tasted fantastic too.

“Okay, so maybe you had a point with the food,” he mumbles around the two more heaping piles of food he just stuffed in his mouth.

“Told you, I’m offended you even doubted me! Rude,” she says, shaking her head. “And after this I will show you my lab. I can’t believe no one thought ‘hey, maybe he’s isolated himself in his room because he has no idea where to go and the people don’t speak English’. I pride my country on its intelligence and I don’t like when Wakanda proves me wrong by doing stupid things. So after this my lab- there’s some fun toys in there, we can probably blow something up,” she says excitedly.

*

T’Challa resents that Tony has taken a clear liking to Shuri but she did get him to eat and got him out of his room. And he asked her about the library, which he wouldn’t have thought would serve Tony well but it turns out he prepared for the language barrier and made a device that translated language that Shuri tells him is surprisingly accurate.

“He’s not as smart as me,” she says, “but he learns much faster than I do. Seriously, its shocking how fast he understands new concepts once it clicks.” She’s impressed, T’Challa can tell, and probably because she didn’t often meet someone who could give her any kind of competition in intelligence. T’Challa did sometimes, but his specialty was travel methods. Shuri was good, but he figured out how to stabilize the vibranium so it could move at the speeds they were looking for, and then Shuri made all his calculations better, cleaned them up, and made them useful.

“Do you think… is he happy there, in your lab?” he asks. Tony doesn’t seem to be happy anywhere at the moment and T’Challa doesn’t want that for him. No one deserves to be as miserable as Tony is at the moment.

She shrugs, “it’s the happiest I’ve seen him. He’s clearly more at home with technology than us. He mentioned something about an AI he had built in America but for some reason he has no access to it now? I suspect he could get it back once he figures out how to use Wakandan systems, and that won’t take long, but I have to wonder exactly how much he’s leaving behind.”

A lot, T’Challa guesses, if his protective nature over what little he had in his bag was any indication. It was heartbreaking to watch but he could do little about it at the moment, not when Tony wanted nothing to do with him. “I don’t know, but I hope to make it easier,” he says.

“Naïve,” Shuri tells him, shaking her head. “If you had to leave Wakanda behind you would not cope well,” she points out.

“I’m not certain that’s comparable,” he says. “Our nation as been isolated for centuries- leaving with the potential of never coming back would mean something totally different to me than it would to someone who has had more freedom in coming and going from their country. But your point is made nonetheless. Maybe… maybe I should take him back; it might help him adjust if he knows he isn’t trapped here. It would make a suitable honeymoon- its some kind of American thing they do after marriage. We would call it a vacation but Americans are dramatic.” What separated the vacation that would happen after or before, or even long after, a wedding he has no idea. They were all the same to him but perhaps Americans had something that made it different and he was missing a cultural cue or something.

Shuri snorts loudly and rudely, “yeah, he’s not going anywhere with you. He really doesn’t like you, which I would find rude if he didn’t drop small hints of how he was treated in America. They think some weird things about omegas and I think he needs convincing that we are not like that,” she says, distaste evident in her tone. T’Challa clenches his jaw, wishing that he could just explain that himself but he already knows from Tony’s previous reactions that he will not allow that. It irritates him that he is now paying the price for some other country’s backwards mistakes and assumptions about Tony’s biology but there is little to do about it now except work through it.

“Do you think you can convince him that we are not America? Because he refuses to be around me for long,” he says. The most he’s seen of Tony were quick snatches of him in the hallways with books, and once they had run into each other in their shares bathroom but Tony quickly made himself scarce after that.

“I don’t know, T’Challa. All I know is that Tony is miserable and he hates it here and there isn’t much to be done about that.” She looks as upset as he feels but T’Challa shakes his head. There is something to be done; they just haven’t found it yet and they will eventually because he simply cannot in good conscience let someone suffer the way Tony has been. Shuri clearly thinks he’s in over his head and maybe she’s right, if he’s honest with himself she probably is, but Tony needs help adjusting to his new life, and support being here and his being difficult is not going to deter T’Challa from ensuring that Tony is well cared for.

Eventually Shuri goes back to her lab and he decides to visit Bast’s temple for some kind of guidance on what to do here. There must be something, he reasons, to help Tony in some way. The temple is stunning though less colorful than the rest of the country’s brightly patterned clothing and walls. Bast is a goddess that leads souls to the next life, after all, though if you’re particularly special she will council you in life too. Its rare that it happens and as next in line to the Throne T’Challa knows he is expected to have a connection to the goddess but he’s never felt more or less special than anyone else around him. Zuri claims he’s special, that Bast is looking down on him but he’s never felt sure of that. That doesn’t mean he is unwilling to come to the goddess for help though.

He reaches out to the large statue in the center of the room, carefully brushing the large panther’s stone nose. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits to the statue, “I don’t know what I can do.” Bast doesn’t speak or do much of anything really but that is not exactly unexpected so he sighs, taking a step back from the statue and hoping for some kind of sign.

“I thought Bast was an Egyptian god,” a voice says from behind him and T’Challa turns to find Tony there, giving the statue a skeptical look. He quickly gives Bast a grateful look, surprised that he actually did receive a sign.

“Gods migrate. Sekhmet also has Egyptian roots,” he says though the function of the god here is different than in Egypt.

Tony considers the statue for a moment and T’Challa notices he moves no closer, likely because he is standing right next to it. “I see a lot of panther stuff around your house, any of that connected to Bast or am I noticing something else?” he asks.

T’Challa smiles, “put simply yes. Bast has blessed the royal line- descendants of Bashenga, the first Black Panther and king of Wakanda. The panther imagery you see is of all the past Black Panthers- kings of Wakanda who are connected to Bast, but not exactly religious figureheads. Those would be the shamans, like Zuri,” he says, remembering too late that Tony likely has no idea who Zuri is

“The guy in purple, right?” he asks and T’Challa nods, surprised that Tony had picked that up. Tony considers the statue again, eyes flicking back to T’Challa for a half a second and he watches as Tony considers leaving. He doesn’t exactly want to press his luck but T’Challa hopes that he doesn’t go.

He doesn’t. Curiosity must get the best of him because he wanders a little closer to the statue, still keeping his distance from T’Challa. “Black Panther, what does that mean exactly?” he asks.

He opens his mouth and then closes it, realizing that not once in his life has he ever been asked to explain the Black Panther to someone who doesn’t already have some kind of working knowledge of his culture. “Um…” he says, frowning a little. “Black Panther is… uh, the protector of Wakanda, a warrior for the nation. It is the job of the Black Panther to ensure that the country is safe and running smoothly, I guess.” That was, bar none, the worst explanation he has ever heard of what the Black Panther does so when Tony looks confused he doesn’t blame him.

“But the Black Panther is the king, is the Black Panther always the king or can someone else uh… take that role?” he asks.

T’Challa shakes his head, “Black Panther is always the king- the duties of the Black Panther tie in with the political and social responsibilities of our leaders.”

“And this is… connected to Bast somehow?” Tony asks, squinting.

“Yes. The first Black Panther, Bashenga, was led to the heart shaped herb by Bast and it granted him powers that led to him becoming the first king of Wakanda,” he says.

Tony’s face scrunches on confusion, “the heart what? And what- what?” he asks, frowning as he tries and fails to understand T’Challa’s explanation. He sighs and Tony gives him a dirty look, “its not my fault your explanations make no sense,” he snaps and T’Challa sighs again.

“I know. It’s just that I have never had to explain this to someone who doesn’t already have some kind of knowledge of our traditions. Let me start from the beginning. There were six tribes in Wakanda and they did not live in peace. War was abundant because they were fighting over a mountain of a metal unlike anything else anyone had ever seen,” he says and Tony nods.

“Vibranium,” he says and T’Challa nods.

“Yes. This went on for some time before a warrior shaman Bashenga received a vision from Bast, who led him to the heart shaped herb and he was granted superhuman powers after ingesting it. With his new power he returned to the rest of Wakanda and put an end to the wars and united the tribes with the exception of the Jabari. They disagreed with the use of vibranium and separated themselves in the mountain regions- they’re still there and still oppose vibranuim use. But Bashenga became the first king and Black Panther- the protector of our nation and from there the mantel was passed down from generation to generation until it got to my father. I am in line to be the next Black Panther,” he explains.

“Is this heart shaped herb thing real?” he asks, “or part of the myth.”

Myth. It’s an offensive way to describe the story but T’Challa lets the comment pass for now. At the moment he needs to pick his battles and he can pick that one later. “The herb is real, but the affects are exaggerated. Technically it does help boost the immune system but the affect we use it for now is visiting the green space- the afterlife. If you ingest the herb it allows you to communicate with all the past Black Panthers.” Its not necessarily something he believes in himself, but that was the story behind the Black Panther and the herb and his father swears its all true. In his father’s defense he’s actually tried the herb while T’Challa has no frame of reference for it.

Tony gives him a look like he’s crazy for suggesting such things and T’Challa bites his tongue on reminding him that America’s religious beliefs were no less insane sounding. Wakanda’s gods at least weren’t arrogant enough to proclaim themselves perfect, all-powerful, and omniscient. Instead they were more realistic gods that made mistakes and sometimes had to correct where they chose to put their faith and power. But he keeps his mouth shut for the time being.

“Yeah, this is why I’m an atheist. Religions always sound bat shit nuts no matter where they’re from,” Tony mumbles. “So like, the Black Panther thing- I take it there’s some kind of uh… clothing or whatever to go with the title? That’s what all the imagery suggests,” he says.

Atheist, well that explains his reactions though they are no less offensive. “First of all my religion is not bat shit nuts, its just different than what you know. And second, yes Black Panther has a specific ceremonial outfit, why?” he asks.

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose, “Jesus fuck I married a furry,” he mumbles. “Yeah, you know what- that’s enough curiosity for me for the day, bye,” he says, giving T’Challa a halfhearted wave before he leaves. T’Challa frowns after him before he turns to Bast again.

“Bast, this is not what I had in mind. And I don’t even know what a furry is,” he tells the goddess.

He had been hoping to help things along, not whatever it is that just transpired. Something tells him that explaining the origins of the Black Panther is not going to help his ability to connect with Tony any, especially when he’s been accused of being whatever a furry is. Bast does not respond and T’Challa resents that, really, because he has no idea what to do now and her attempts to help did not go well.