Chapter 2
Tony gazed at the dark blue water of the North Pacific Ocean, lulled by the soft motion of the waves as he stood near the edge of the deck barge sailing on the sea. He craned his head upward to look at the millions of stars through the gaps in clouds in the dark sky and Tony suddenly had the yearning to go back out there again, back in Resilient—docked somewhere in Earth’s orbit.
Behind him, he heard voices and Tony turned to look at the source. The glider was parked in the middle of the deck, with the rear loading hatch open. The woman’s fiery hair shone with and orange sheen under the runaway’s light as she strutted down the ramp, her crimson leather coat floating dramatically after her.
Her entrance would have been impressive if weren’t for her attempt at a variety of facial exercises so monumentally cartoony that it made hard for Tony not to laugh.
“I’ll never get used how my mouth feels weird just after landing,” Wanda Maximoff slurred as she tried to nudge her lips with her tongue.
“Verily, my friend!” a voice boomed over the deafening noise of the half-powered Resilient’s repulsor engines as a blonde tall guy with a physique that was both impressive and intimidating stepped into Tony’s view. “‘Tis disturbing how one accustoms in . . .” He trailed off.
“Zero gravity,” Richard Rider supplied helpfully. While holding the gold helmet under his armpit, clad in blue and gold militaristic uniform, he was a less intimidating and impressive guy than Thor Odinson, but no less handsome.
“Yes, zero gravity!” Thor declared. “See what this gravity’s power hath created now! It is wreaking my stomach afoul!”
“Initially, when I came back from my first space travel, my skin had this strange burning sensation whenever it brushed any fabric or object,” Richard recalled, “Glad this is no longer the case.”
Vision smiled at Thor serenely as he floated down the ramp, his red skin gleaming eerily in the blinking light. “I believe it’s one of the normal side-effects of your body getting familiarized to Earth’s gravity.”
“Quit your bitching, you bunch of wimps. I don’t get why you’re complaining, you’re home,” a small furry creature grumbled behind them; his weapon was strapped on his back and it was so big that it stuck out at least an arm’s length above his furry head.
Thor turned and blinked down at Rocket Raccoon. “Ah. You make a good point. It matters not, for fate has smiled upon us! We have returned to our rightful place, to our home, Earth!”
Rocket Raccoon glared at Thor. “Don’t make me murder you.”
Amused at the scene before him Tony was content to listen until he felt a crackle of energies wash over his skin—sort of static sensation—and he immediately knew Doctor Strange was nearby. He didn’t have to look to his right to see the doctor standing there.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Stephen commented apropos of nothing. “Why is that?”
“Overview effect,” Tony quickly replied with a shrug.
“The Almighty Tony Stark is overwhelmed by the fragility and veneration of our blue planet? You?” Stephen’s voice was braided with skepticism, “I think not,” he snorted, “Try again. This time, be more convincing.”
Tony raised one eyebrow. “Even someone like me can get overwhelmed once awhile. I’m not the exception. Neither are you.”
“I would’ve agreed with you if that was the case.”
Tony crossed his arms. “Oh, really?” His voice oozed with pure sarcasm, but internally, Tony was struggling not to be irritated at Dr. Strange, however impossible. It chafed to this day how Dr. Strange always got under Tony’s skin regardless of the fact that they worked together and were close friends. The problem was they were too similar. “Enlighten, me O Supreme Sorcerer, what is then?”
“I believe it’s the opposite.”
Tony’s face shuttered and he had to look away. For a moment, everything was silent as the grave between them.
Finally, Tony sighed, “What gave me away?”
“You have that look. I’ve seen it once.” At Tony’s bewildered expression, Stephen explained, “You’re looking at them—” he inclined his head at the team, unaware of the conversation between them, “—like you did before you got trapped in that pocket universe. You’re memorizing everything . . . as if you wanted to say goodbye.”
It had been one of those dark times for the Avengers and the entire universe. In the last stand against Thanos, nearly every single Avenger, Guardian of Galaxy, Asgardian, Nova Corps, superhero, even human who fought back was defeated by the power of the Infinity Gauntlet. However, long before that last battle, Tony had that haunted look for months, ever since Thor and Bruce came back after the fall of Asgard, and Stephen hadn’t understood then because he didn’t know Tony well—not like now—and by the time Stephen did, it had been far too late. Tony had known how it would end. Had known it had to be him when the mission was supposed to be them—Thor, Loki, Bruce, Stephen and Tony—holding down the fort while the rest of the last remaining Avengers would avenge them. Things had gotten too far out their control so fast, and during the chaos, the only person who could make the sacrifice was Tony.
Sometimes, nights when Stephen couldn’t sleep, he would lie on the bed and wonder if he would have stopped Tony if he had known beforehand. He thought of Tony walking in that place even if it killed him to stay and tried—truly tried—to imagine wielding power that no human should ever wield all alone. Not to die—never that—but to buy them time. Tony had gone, knowing it was a zero point zero, zero, zero, zero and one percent chance of surviving.
However, by some miracle, Tony did survive—badly injured and nearly brain dead. If weren’t for the Extremis virus rampaging through Tony’s veins, he wouldn’t be standing right now, completely sane and almost in one piece. Tony had succeeded when other Avengers couldn’t. The universe was still here because of him.
No, Stephen mused to himself, he wouldn’t have stopped Tony, and hated himself a little bit more for that.
He gave a side-glance at Tony, to see what the man was thinking, but here was nothing on the engineer’s face. With no forthcoming response from him, Stephen continued on, “Also, I heard what Quill offered.”
“Ha! I knew you were listening.”
With a shrug, he admitted, “I was curious.”
“Right, curious from seventy floors up,” Tony said dryly, shaking his head. He was smiling, his eyes crinkling around the edges but something changed, something into a bit more contemplative, “I’m thinking about it.”
Truth to be told, it wasn’t unexpected and yet he had to ask, “Why?”
“I’m happier out there.” Tony looked up at the million stars, then blinked. “No, that’s not right. Not happy. Content, I guess. More than I am here.”
“But?”
“But I don’t want to leave. This is my home.” Tony sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. “It’s just . . . it has been hard to find any reasons to stay here.”
“You've got us,” Stephen pointed out, “You have your friends. Resilient. Your company, your ideas. Your fundraisers.”
Tony nodded, feeling a gratitude wash over him. Despite the years with them, it still astounded Tony that he was part of this family because he never thought he would have something like he did with the Avenger, especially after the “Civil War.” He’d long been resigned to the fact that he would never have another, let alone deserve one. Then the Mighty Avengers proved Tony wrong and it was so much more than he imagined, more than the original Avengers.
It wasn’t to say that Tony’s old teammates were lacking because they weren’t and in some way, they were still his family, just not as paramount as before. The sad thing that once upon a time, Tony and the Avengers were good together—magnificent even—but they weren’t strong enough to withstand the political and emotional storms. In the end, it took so little for everything to fall apart.
For the longest time, Tony had believed history would repeat again, this time with the Mighty Avengers, and there were couple moments when he thought he’d come close to being right whenever they fought, misunderstood, argued, or had disastrous missions, or had outside forces trying to drive them apart, only to be shown despite of everything, they stayed together, stronger than ever. Even at Tony’s lowest moments, the Mighty Avengers stood at his side with their silent support, offering soft encouragement and giving him the incentive to push himself forward, not to give up.
Tony owed the Mighty Avengers more than words could say, but he couldn’t stay for them, no matter how much he wanted to, because they taught him this. They taught Tony how to take care of himself, not to waste in guilt or live into something fraught with mistrust, lies and resignation like he used to before. They taught him to be honest with them while staying true to his beliefs, and to prioritize himself in the midst of everything, while they had faith in Tony to watch their back in the process.
It made Tony sad, as he’d always loved being part of the Mighty Avengers, being able to explore strange worlds with them, bickering over whose turn it was to cook, gazing at the stillness of the stars from the cupola of Resilient, or having a showdown with the latest villain of the week.
The problem was that, whenever Tony returned to Earth, he felt aimless, and it seemed to get worse every time he returned. Of course, he was happy to come back home, to breathe the natural oxygen, as well as take comfort in seeing familiar places and surrealness, but at the end of the day, Tony found himself feeling empty, his chest often seizing up with heartache he couldn’t understand, and it bothered Tony because, aside from the emptiness, he was at peace. He’d finally found a place to belong where he was needed and wanted but he couldn’t figure out why he still felt like an unused suit no matter how much he tried to distract himself by traveling countries, acting as the ambassador for the geo-political climate, pushing and expanding proposals for clean energy solutions all around the world. None of them worked and Tony was beginning to understand there was nothing he could do to make it better.
The cure for emptiness, it seemed, was to be out there, outside his home, beyond New York City and the Earth. It made him feel horrible but as much as he felt guilty, there was a huge part of Tony’s heart that was filled to bursting wonder when the Resilient’s artificial lights would click on, watching the clean lines of the ship, listening to the hum of the engines and the chatter his friends’ voices. It was when the aches in his heart were nowhere to be found that finally convinced him that perhaps this was what Tony was looking for. He couldn’t bring himself to say any of this aloud, especially to Stephen.
It didn’t matter, because Stephen stared at him with a strange expression on his face, and said quietly: “But it’s not enough, it is?”
I wish it was, Tony desperately wanted to say, but it was too honest. Just thinking about it made Tony feel truly naked, despite the thick compression undersuit he currently wore, keeping him warm under the salty, chilly winds.
“Tony,” Stephen began, his voice bearing urgency. “Are you—”
“You’re worrying for nothing, Stephenopholious,” Tony cut him off. “Just thinking about it doesn’t mean I’m going to take Quill’s offer. It was . . . nice to dream, for a while there.” Tony didn’t bother to add that he was giving himself some time to revisit the offer later, perhaps in a year or so. To see if this was something Tony truly wanted and not just byproduct of feelings that gave rose-colored glasses to whenever he was in space and—
He jerked when something pinged in Tony’s Extremis’ matrix, flashing his binary codes into a red color, making his body tense like a string violin.
Stephen must’ve noticed the difference in Tony because he looked at him sharply, his voice alert, “What is it?”
Tony looked up to the night sky with his naked eyes, but he couldn’t see anything until he connected his Extremis to the nearest satellite positioned over the deck barge. Suddenly, Tony was looking down, staring at the layers of clouds apparently more than two-hundred miles below; beyond were hundreds of tiny points of light of the dozens of ships sliding through the sea lanes. It was hard to judge the distance from here and Tony switched to the infrared radar to find the source of his alarm.
As soon Tony did, he immediately found it.
“Quinjet,” Tony announced as he disconnected from the satellite network, blinking. “It must’ve dropped the stealth mode just then.”
“To grab your attention, perhaps.” The doctor glanced up curiously, not even remotely worried. “S.H.I.E.L.D or S.W.O.R.D?”
There was distant look in Tony’s eyes, tilting his head to one side as if he was watching something. Stephen knew Tony had tapped into Quinjet’s systems. “Actually, ours.”
One well-defined eyebrow rose up. “A simple phone call would’ve sufficed.”
The genius let out a loud snort. “Not when it comes to James. He likes showing off.” Then he must have seen something he didn’t like somewhere in Extremis because Tony’s face fell, rolling his eyes up in annoyance. “Oh, come on!”
The doctor didn’t bother to ask, knowing the answer would be coming soon.
“They’re opening the hatch. It looks like JimJam is going to fly solo.” Almost to himself, Tony muttered under his breath, “Jesus, what with super soldiers jumping off planes? ”
A text message popped in Tony’s Extremis interface. Tony read the content with growing dismay before turning his attention back to the Quinjet’s security cameras, watching the familiar figure inch his way toward the edge of the ramp, looking down into the dark abyss.
“At least tell me he has a parachute,” Stephen requested, having heard his share of stories of the first Captain America growing up. Oftentimes, people had remarked Captain Barnes was eerily similar to his best friend, Steve Rogers, in terms of risk-taking decisions.
“Oh, he has it.”
The tone of Tony’s voice didn’t escape Stephen’s notice and it amused the sorcerer to no end. “And yet, you sound upset.”
“TADASHI was so kind enough to pass James’ message to me.” Tony began to step backward, his left knee aching as he moved. “To quote his exact words: ‘Catch me if you can.’”
“What that supposed to mean?”
“It means I have to catch him before he pulls the rigs.”
“Why?”
Tony shrugged, stopping until he reached to his desired distance. “Beats me.”
“And you’re going to do it,” Stephen noted, his amusement rising.
“He issued a challenge.” Tony said distractedly, still watching through the eyes of the security cameras, “One thing is certain, I don’t ignore challenges. I complete them.”
Tony saw James look over his shoulder to stare directly at one of the cameras and to Tony’s surprise, James grinned cheekily while dragging his goggles down, fitting them carefully over his eyes. Tony narrowed his eyes when James gave half-salute, half-wave at the camera before he jumped off the Quinjet.
Son of a bitch.
Tony quickly disconnected from the Quinjet’s systems and looked at Stephen before gesturing at the space between them. “Anytime now.”
The sorcerer didn’t have to ask what Tony meant and he smirked at Tony’s obvious distaste of magic despite years of witnessing it. “Of course.”
Waving intricate moves with his hands, Dr. Strange summoned a golden portal, sparkling into existence few feet from Tony.
“Thanks,” Tony grudgingly said before he plunged completely into Extremis. He felt the sharp muscle cramps in his body disappear almost entirely and his knee straightened before he sprang into a dead run toward the portal. Even with his heart pounding so loud in his ears, Tony possessed sufficient presence of mind to wonder if he had lost his mind.
The deck barge, the night sky, Dr. Strange and his teammates disappeared before his eyes when Tony dove into the portal, replaced by the roar of the wind and spinning speckles of the night sky as though the world were demonstrating strange new dizzying angles for him.
Tony whooped as he tumbled through the skies, his eyes burning in the high-speed wind stream, and with little difficulty, he tried to straighten his body by spreading his arms and legs to stabilize his descent. As soon he balanced himself, Tony could see the world spread below him and the navigation lights flashing from Quinjet about few hundred feet above him and underneath that was the sparkling of the portal. It was still open, waiting for him.
The Quinjet was growing smaller and smaller and Tony looked around for James even in the darkness but it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Tony brought up a projection of HUD over his corneas and immediately it locked on a figure a few hundred meters below him and to his right through the mass of clouds. Tony grinned—or at least he tried to with incredibly strong gusts of wind morphing his smile into something unrecognizable—and pressed his arms to his sides, his legs together, building speed, angling toward James.
Finally, Tony could see James’s colorful uniform with his own eyes below him, freefalling in a spread-eagled position. His HUD calculated James’ terminal velocity at one hundred thirty miles per hour.
Tony kept his legs and arms pulled in until he was even with James and was about to spread his limbs out to maneuver toward James but before Tony could do that, James glanced sideways with his goggles and from even distance, Tony saw James’ mouth stretch into Cheshire grin in a way that didn’t bode well. Then James surprised Tony by flattening his limbs together and rocketed downward in aerodynamic perfection, heading directly toward the earth at a dangerous speed, their gap between them growing bigger and bigger.
Tony cursed loudly but the wind tore his words apart. When James uttered the challenge, Tony hadn't thought he meant it quite literally, but if that's how James wanted to be stupid, then fine, Tony was going be stupider.
Tony called his armor; the metals thickened over his undersuit. The faceplate extended and clicked shut over his face as the Iron Man suit enfolded him completely between one second and the next. Iron Man lurched forward, punching Tony’s stomach by the force of the initial thrust when the repulsors roared online.
The gap between them came closer and James was eighty feet below him, four thousand feet to terra firma, according to the HUD’s charts and it kept spitting information of the trajectory, mass, gravity, altimeter in a blink of an eye. If it weren’t for his HUD, he wouldn’t have noticed the detail of James’ red-gloved hands in this distance, his fingers moving to grab the ripcord. Tony’s eyes narrowed into slits behind the faceplate. Oh, no you don’t.
Tony forced his repulsors to put an extra burst of acceleration, closing on James like a homing beacon missile and . . .
WHAM!
Tony slammed into James in a mid-air tackle with a whoop of laughter. Instinctively, James threw his arms around Iron Man’s shoulders in a tight iron grip. Up to this close, Tony saw James’ blue eyes widen with amazement behind the goggles, but despite his surprise, the bastard was still grinning like a fool.
The tackle had caused them to tumble and fall faster even as Tony was trying to stabilize them with the repulsors, his armor compensating for the additional weight and the strain of terminal velocity dragging them down. It took him a few seconds but Tony managed to pull them upward. Then, they were flying through the billowing white mist of clouds, spiraling into a slow aerial dance. Tony heard James laugh in awe, his face open with childlike-wonder, holding closer into the armor with one bionic arm and other spread out to feel the cloud trickle around his fingers, wetting his gloves a little.
It was quieter when they emerged out the clouds and the portal was still waiting for them, glowing in the darkness. As Tony watched the portal’s cascade of sparks swirling in the wind, an idea popped in his mind and it filled Tony with a glee. It was a terrible idea and if Tony was a better man, he wouldn’t do it.
But, Tony mused with a grin, James deserves it.
Unaware of Tony’s thoughts, James was enjoying the slow glide, loving the hum of the armor wrapped around him and then, without so much a warning, Tony flung James upward into the air. An undignified yelp left James’s mouth as he plummeted backward and his hands blindly grasped the empty air. Almost instantly James remembered there was a parachute strapped on his back but before he could yank the release pin, a ring of golden sparks engulfed around him.
The night sky and the stars, the clouds all melted away from James and in a second, he was dizzy from of gold and white brightness that whirred in a kaleidoscopic pattern before his eyes until it showed him a new dreary gray place.
Unfortunately, James arrived the new place by crashing loudly and rolling ungracefully on his back across the deck floor as if the portal had spat him out in disgust when in actuality, Tony overshot in throwing James through the portal.
His abrupt arrival stirred score of laughter, gasps and surprised titters from the members of the Mighty Avenger. Their faces suddenly cropped into James’ vision, staring down at him.
“Welcome, Captain Barnes!” Thor crowed happily, “You are a sight for a sore eye, my friend!”
“Another one? Who invited the ugly human?” Rocket Raccoon eyed him suspiciously.
“Rocket?” James blinked up at him, distracted by the weapon that towered over the creature. “What the hell're you doing here?”
Rocket scowled. “Why I wouldn’t be here?”
“He’s here because he’s being an idiot,” Richard interjected bluntly, his tone saccharine. “Isn’t that right, pet?”
“Keep saying pet and you’ll be sleeping with one eye open,” Rocket threatened.
“I’ll like to see you try.” Richard curled his fingers into a fist as white energy crackled between the gaps of his fingers, his eyes glinting wickedly.
“All right, children. Playtime’s over,” Iron Man’s modulated voice announced, and his boots clomping on the floor became audible. “Daddy’s here.”
Vision turned his head, lines of his synthetic brows raised, his expression amused as he attempted for humor. “If you’re our father, does that make Doctor Strange our mother?” Someone choked back a laugh—possibly Rocket Raccoon. There was a slap somewhere and a loud protesting yelp—possibly Wanda smacking the back of Rocket’s head, but James couldn’t tell from his position.
Someone choked back a laugh—possibly Rocket Raccoon. There was a slap somewhere and a loud protesting yelp—possibly Wanda smacking the back of Rocket’s head, but James couldn’t tell from his position.
“Dear god, no,” Dr. Strange answered with distaste.
“The doctor is right,” Thor declared. “He’s the least warm person I ever knew and I was raised with Loki.” There was a brief pause before Thor added as an afterthought, “No offense.”
Iron Man’s head popped into James’ vision, the slit of his blues eyes glowing down at him. “All right, give the man some space.”
“Tin-man,” James mock-greeted, “thanks for the ride,” he continued sarcastically, watching other teammates move away from his view. “It was an asshole’s move, asshole.”
“So was sending that message, princess,” Iron Man shot back, leaning forward to stretch out his hand to James.
Grunting unhappily, James slapped his bionic hand over the gauntlet and very gently, Iron Man curled his metal fingers around James’, tugging him up. When James was on his feet, he knocked Iron Man’s chest plate with his knuckles. “Take it off.”
Even with the sleek armor, it was never hard for James to figure out that Tony was uncomfortable at this request. “Uh, why?”
“So I can admire your majestic beard,” James replied sarcastically before he took a pause, narrowing his eyes. “Since when are you shy? I’ve seen you buck-ass naked,” he pointed out, trying for a more teasing tone, but to James’ ears, it sounded bit strained. It didn’t help that his mind was jerk enough to conjure that fateful day when Iron Man’s armor malfunctioned, leaving Tony naked as the day he was born. James couldn’t help but recall Tony’s planes of skin and muscles, the dip and rise of his collarbones, the curves of his back and the dusty dark hair on his lower belly, trimmed neatly and trailing down to—
“The problem is, you do have the tendency to indulge your violent tendencies,” Tony’s voice cut off James’ dirty thoughts. “Once I step outside the suit, I don’t know whether you’re going to punch me or give me a noogie after what I did just then.”
James blinked back to the present, swallowing at the memory. “I’ve considered it,” he deadpanned, grateful for once his voice sounded normal. “Guess you’re gonna to take chance, will ya?”
There was a lengthy pause and then, “Nope, can’t do it,” Tony admitted. “How about a compromise? Just the faceplate up?”
James shook his head. “All of it. Come on, I dare you.”
“What are we? In high school?” There was a note of incredulity in Iron Man’ filtered voice. “Oh wait, is it my turn to paint your nails hot pink and fawn over boys?” Iron Man made a gesture with one hand over his chest plate in sort of feminine fashion. “Can we gush over Pantheress hotness ratio during our sleepover, watch the ‘Notebook’ and have our lovely hair braided? I have to warn you, I do make a mean triple French braid.”
“He does!” Thor chimed in suddenly, surprising everyone, including Tony. “It was most impressive! Darcy was kind enough to take pictures of my hair with her cellular telephone.” Beaming beatifically, Thor pulled his phone out his pocket that looked so tiny on his huge hand, “Shall I show to you?”
If it weren’t for the faceplate, Tony would’ve facepalmed just then. Instead, he turned his head to look at Thor, “Dude, you’re not helping.”
“I double dare you,” James challenged.
Returning his glowing gaze back to James, “That’s not gonna work on me.”
“Why? Scared, Stark?”
“What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me.”
Silence suddenly reigned in the open space and it stretched out between them and suddenly Iron Man’s blank faceplate seemed more intimidating with black and gold impassivity.
“Fine.” Iron Man finally bit back. Just like that, a whirring sound emitted from the armor, followed by lot of clicks as the metallic alloys melted into liquid gold, only to fade away into black undersuit and skin. When the last metal plates, wires, gears and circuit board vanished, Tony Stark stood before James, jaw set, his hands balled into fists and brown eyes flashing with pure stubbornness and determination. “Well?”
The unwilling spectators, Wanda, Rocket Raccoon, Vision, Richard, Thor and Dr. Strange were watching the standoff between them with morbid amusement; more than one of them was expecting Tony to be punched or something violent.
And then James and Tony were both laughing and hugging. It was James who gathered Tony first, engulfing him into his arms, tucking his face on Tony’s neck as close as possible. Tony went into the embrace willing, throwing his arms around James’s shoulders and gripped him tightly.
Rocket Raccoon gaped at them. “What just happened?”
“Oh, you’re seeing this for the first time?” Wanda inquired, not even slightest perturbed at the scene before her.
“Whadda you mean the first time?” Rocket Raccoon barked, incredulous, “Are you saying this is normal?”
“For us? No,” Richard replied. “For them? Yeah.”
“Agreed,” Thor began, “it’s their—what do you call it? Modus of operandi, right?” He glanced around for confirmation. After few chorus nods from the rest of the teammates, Thor resumed, “Yes, modus of operandi—first, they dole their tantrums like dangerous toddlers, provoking each other with trickery, insult or dares and then they do this.” He thumbed at the hug that lasted way past the time limit for the unspoken rules of conduct between two grown men.
Wanda gave Rocket Raccoon a rueful smile, “I think they did as joke at first. It took us awhile to realize they were playing us, but even after we knew of their little games, they kept doing it.” Wanda paused for thought. “I guess they sort fell into this habit and it stuck to this day.”
“For one, I’m very grateful they toned down the insults and the death threats regardless of the fact it wasn’t serious as I thought.” Vision informed him, “It was quite . . . worrying.”
“That’s . . .” Rocket Raccoon glanced to Captain Barnes and Tony, who finally ended the hug, but they were still close. Barnes’ arm was thrown over Tony’s shoulder as Tony chattered about something with manic excitement. It looked . . . weird, especially the way Barnes was looking at Tony—all fond and—oh. “Well, shit.”
“Welcome to the team.” Dr. Strange gave him a knowing smirk.
Rocket Raccoon froze just for a moment before he exploded, “I’m not one of you guys!” he nearly shouted, clearly offended. “I’m just taking a temporary break from those idiots out there.”
“Whatever you say, pet.” Richard patted Rocket Raccoon’s head mockingly.
“That’s it!” the small creature yowled angrily. He grabbed his weapon from his back, and the muzzle glowed menacingly. “I will murder you!”
*****
It was a movie night, as per the Mighty Avenger tradition when they came back home. One of the rooms of the Stark Tower was crawling with Mighty Avengers’ members after Rocket Raccoon and Richard declared truce under duress when Wanda ripped them a new one (although, Thor had been disappointed the fight had ended before it started).
All of the Avengers were sitting on the chair in the state-of-the-art home theater—undoubtedly maintained by Pepper-- but none of them were paying attention to the movie, and were sharing cold of beers and varieties takeout foods with each other when Tony limped back into the room with another six pack of beer in just in time to hear James cut Dr. Strange’s explanation with an exclamation.
“Wait, wait. Let me get this right.” James had that a wrinkle in his forehead. “You’re saying that Quill and Gamora thought it was a good idea to convince an entire race of Elmhold that Groot was their god?”
Tony couldn’t help but grin at James’ horrified tone and answered for him, “Yup.” He set the six pack of beer on the coffee table that was partially covered by takeout containers and collapsed into one of the chairs, his limbs sprawling everywhere. “To excuse them, they did that to avoid being shot upon sight.”
“And they just gave him the mace—”
“Sharur.” Rocket Raccoon supplied the name before throwing the half-eaten crust on the pizza box with a sneer.
“Sharur, right.” Incredulously, James went on, “They gave Groot a weapon so powerful that it had the power to bend the reality of that planet? Sort of like Thor’s Mjolnir but at greater scale?”
“Yes.” Thor burped his word loudly after gulping down a beer.
“Let me guess, it backfired?”
“Enormously.” Tony couldn’t enunciate enough. “The mace drove Groot insane. Gollum type of mad but less murdery.”
“I was trying to reason Groot to come back from lala land.” Rocket Raccoon scratched at the side of his furred face with one of his claw. “But I guess the people of Elmhold didn’t like it because they kidnapped me the next day to shut me up.”
“That’s where it backfired.” Dr. Strange took a shot of his whiskey with one gulp before shuddering at the burn. “Their actions upset Groot and he went into rampage looking for his friend. Tsunami. Eclipses. Volcanos. Typhoons. Earthquake. You name it, Groot caused them all. It took nearly a submerged continent of another side of the planet to scare a small people who were responsible for his kidnapping to hand Rocket Raccoon back into Groot’s arms in order to stop his rampage.” He poured liberally on the cup. “It didn’t work at all.” Stephen downed it quickly. “Groot submerged it anyway.”
“Atlantis Two,” Richard commented with expressions ranging from morbid fascination to shell-shocked.
James winced, looking at Rocket with a sympathetic expression. “Jesus. I don’t blame you for being mad at them.”
“It didn’t help that they didn’t take me seriously when I disagreed the plan from the start,” Rocket muttered mutinously before he broke off into a yawn, nearly cracking his jaw.
“Shall I get coffee for you?” Vision offered graciously, indicating the coffee pot sitting on the floor next to Dr. Strange’s chair.
Rocket shook his head, “No,” he sighed wearily, “I think it’s time for me to head to bed.”
“You know where it is, right?” Richard asked with a smirk. “Or do you need to hold my hand after I tuck you in?”
“Screw you,” Rocket shot back with a deadpan, “And yes, I know where my room is, thank you very much.”
“Good, you’re sharing.” Richard rubbed his face with his hands, ignoring as Rocket Raccoon protested. “I’m beat.”
“Me three.” Wanda stretched like a lazy cat before she climbed to her feet from her floor, nearly stumbling on the process. She let out a sheepish giggle with cheeks flushed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have drunk that last beer.”
As she walked, her legs moved like a shaky Bambi—all wobbling legs and no coordination—and she veered to the opposite direction. Dr. Strange sighed and went to steady Wanda. “Come on.” He steered her in the right direction. “I’ll take to your room.”
While Richard and Rocket Raccoon bickered, Dr. Strange paused to give a contemplative glance to Tony before heading out with Wanda, followed by Rocket Raccoon and Richard.
Thor gulped his last beer and belched again. “This was a fine beer.” He patted his hand on Tony’s shoulder, hard, nearly sending Tony sprawling to the floor. Thor reached for Tony, perhaps to straighten him up; instead, he hauled Tony him upright and pulled him close into a squeezing hug. “Well met, Son of Stark! Keep me updated of any Avenger’s affairs. I am going to visit Asgard.”
“Ow.” Tony winced as the air went out from him, Thor’s beard rasping uncomfortably on his right cheek. “Sure thing, Jani Lane.”
Thor plopped Tony back to the chair and before James knew what was happening, Thor closed his distance in long strides and he too was swept into Thor’s muscular arms and squeezed for a few seconds before Thor let him go. “It’s good to see you, James.”
Thor’s friendliness still took James off guard and he stared up at him. “Yeah. Good to see you too, Thor.”
The god of thunder’s flip-flops smacked loudly against the floor, fading away in the distance, and then it was quiet, stretching out in the room. James exchanged a glance with Tony and he realized that if it weren’t for Vision, this would be a perfect moment to have this “talk”. Once he started thinking, James was terrified of the idea being left alone with Tony, and shit, there was panic, pounding in his heart.
What if this was the last time James laughed and shared beers with Tony? God, it would be terrible if that was remotely possible but for some reason, James knew he was being ridiculous. He looked at Tony, who was content to stare back at him. Really looked at Tony. James found his throat was tight, heavy with emotion. James almost forgot one of the best and the worst qualities of Tony.
His devotion.
Put this simply, James realized he needed to stop being an idiot because Tony would never be appalled or judge him for having feelings. He never had, not once ever, since they became friends, and it hadn’t been easy, considering their history with heaps of emotional baggage to grit their teeth and sift through.
It was the Infinity War that changed everything—not much, but enough to impact the dynamic of their relationship and force them into another territory.
During the war, much to their displeasure, they were a brilliant team on the battlefield. At one point, when most of the Avengers were down—due to the initial attack from Thanos—James and Tony had been forced to coordinate their offenses and defenses together so brilliantly that both emerged from the bloodiest battle of the first wave without serious injury. It was an accomplishment that neither Avengers, nor Commander Rogers, nor even Hulk could claim, since they had been among the first rendered unconscious. Off the battlefield, Tony and James had developed some sort of truce and grudgingly paired off for the second wave of the war.
Eventually, that truce grew into respect mixed with a load of guilt and shame; then it moved into admiration and solidarity—or as Thor would say, a word that portrayed both of them appropriately: “shield-brothers.”
Now, Tony was a person who James could turn to and confide in, rather than pretend everything was fine. Surprisingly, in return, Tony did the same which amazed Pepper and Rhodey to no end; they insisted to James that Tony wasn’t the kind person who trusted others easily, which was a testament to how far they both had come.
At that thought, James felt a little brave and cleared his throat nervously. “Viz, can I talk Tony alone for a sec?”
Vision blinked, seemly shaken from his musing and he readily agreed after a beat. “Of course.” He tilted his head thoughtfully as he walked out. “Perhaps, it would not be remiss for me to visit Ms. Van Dyne.”
Tony watched the android leave, his expression uncomfortable when he turned to face James. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. It just—we need to talk.”
Tony squirmed at this, his face a mix of emotions: discomfort, vulnerability, confusion and more that James couldn’t even categorize. Then Tony said something that was apparently out the field. “Is this about Minton’s in Harlem?”
“That’s not what I wanted to—wait, what?”
“Oh, it’s not that you were talking about?” Tony rushed in nervously. “Then never mind.”
“Minton’s?” James recalled the smoldering ruins of the club and assumed it was the work of the untrained superpowered individual. Possibly a teenager.
“First, let me state for the record that this wasn’t my idea at all, it was Luke fault— as unbelievable it is, I’m innocent in this case—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on there.” It never failed surprise James how Tony made him feel as if he was standing in middle of a hurricane.
Tony went on, as if he hadn’t heard James, “—actually, that’s not true. It was Diamondback’s fault—or Striker, whichever you prefer—”
“What did you—” James stopped himself and narrowed his eyes, listening to Tony blather on in rapid-chatter that only Pepper could translate.
He wasn’t the best Winter Solider just because of his brawn or his kill-count. His intelligence had been the biggest part behind it. Concealment, covering his tracks, spying, fishing secrets—all of it, he had been good at it. James could always deduce the unspoken things behind the gesture, the silence behind the gesture, the intent from the body language tells and tics before anyone could put action behind the sentiment, no matter how foreign, powerful and intelligent they were.
For instance, James knew Tony was deflecting just now. Tony was a proficient liar, looking straight at him without balking or blinking as he babbled, his face was a perfect mask of nervousness and exuding sincerity, his shoulder slumped, his naked arm still and loose. However, his left hand, one of his index finger, it twitched—one of his tells.
Oh, he was that good, but not that good.
James was impressed but also disappointed. James could talk Tony about anything and nothing, except conversations that followed the phrase of we need to talk because—to Tony’s perspective—it equaled you’re screwed. And it’s your fault. No two ways about it.
“Nice try. It almost worked.”
Miraculously, Tony stopped talking, at least for a moment, and then he said quickly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Look, it’s nothing bad,” James began, “I mean, I don’t think it’s bad—either for you or for . . .” he stammered as he searched right words were intelligible enough to make his point across but he wasn’t sure where to start. A small silence followed between them, and while it was obvious Tony was waiting for him to open the topic with reluctance, all James could manage was to stare at him, distracted by Tony’s adorable crow’s feet near his incredibly brown eyes. It made Tony’s expression oddly soft and strangely fragile and—
“You know, that doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.” Tony donned a self-deprecating smile. “Can we have this talk without me present? I mean, I could leave and you just chat to this . . .” Tony gestured the surrounding with his hand, “. . . room. Or chair, whatever you prefer. Pretend like I’m here. Problem solved!”
“Nope.” James raised his brows at the ridiculous suggestion, regardless that his heart was beating hard against his chest or the fact that his palms felt clammy. “I need you here.”
Tony sighed. “All right, give me a second.” He grabbed the blanket that was thrown over the armchair and draped it over him, like a parody of the infamous “I can see dead people” as Tony braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut. “Okay, I’m ready. Go ahead.”
James rolled his eyes at Tony’s theatrics and then took a deep breath. “Right, um.” James winced at the crack in his voice and tried to clear it with a cough. He’d rehearsed a well-worded speech before coming here, words he’d picked carefully to ease Tony into a conversation in a way that wouldn’t scare his friend away for good but his mouth opened before his mind caught up. “Ihavefeeingsforyou.”
Tony popped one eye open then blinked both, frowning. “What? I didn’t catch it. Can you say again? This time slower—oh god. Are you green?”
“I’m fin—”
“You look like you’re going to puke? Please, don’t puke.”
“Tony—”
“You don’t have to talk if this makes you uncomfortable. See? I knew it was a bad idea all around to have this talk—”
“Would you just—”
“—wait, I got a better idea.” Tony looked up at the hidden camera he placed in the room, “TADASHI, can you bring up the voice recording about ten seconds before this and slow down about—”
“I have feelings!” James blurted again in near shout, annoyed that he was being steamrolled by Tony. He froze when he realized he’d said aloud and facepalmed, feeling the burn rise on his cheeks.
Tony looked completely taken aback. “Uhh. . . good to know?”
“For you,” James finally finished, figuring he’d embarrassed himself enough that he had nothing to lose. He let his hands fall over his lap and looked up at Tony at the eyes. “I have feelings for you.”
Tony stilled, blinking rapidly as he processed this. After a long tense moment of silence, he asked seriously, “For the sake of clarity, what kind feelings?”
It was a fair question but it still left James feeling defensive. There was a glass window just a few feet from him and James had to resist the urge of throwing himself through it and mustered a reply, “Romantic ones.”
“Romantic, like . . .”
“Don’t be so dense. It doesn’t suit you,” he growled, upset that Tony could even toy this—
“I’m not. Not on purpose.” Tony cut off James’ dark thoughts, incredulity oozing in his voice. “It’s hard to believe that you could—”
“—like you? Well, yeah. I do.”
“You like me,” Tony repeated to himself, staring past him at the wall with a distant expression as he tried to take the information at face value. Eventually, Tony seemed to come back to himself. “Of course you do. Who can blame you? I’m awesome. Have you seen this face?” Tony twirled his finger in the air around his handsome features. “It is a truly work of art.”
James twisted his lips into a smile, a little amused and relieved that Tony went for levity in an attempt to assuage the awkwardness between them. “I’ve seen better,” James deadpanned.
Tony made a fake wounded sound, hands shooting up to cover his chest, murmuring something about “right in the feels.”
Still, James wanted to drive his point home, “Personally, it’s not your look that made me interested in you first place. It’s you, Tony—the idiot asshole who is so brilliantly strong that it’s almost unbelievable. You, who cares too much about everything and everyone even those who don’t deserve your kindness in the first place. Just you.” James gave Tony a tiny, awkward smile. “Although, I won’t deny your looks are a plus.”
Slowly, Tony’s eyes grew wide open, as if someone had shifted and realigned his world upside down. It took James a while to realize that he had successfully rendered Tony speechless.
James leaned forward to sit his elbows on his legs and took a deep breath. “Look, I won’t be offended if you don’t feel the same,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady. “This confession shouldn’t make you feel obligated to give me anything in return. I know you won’t, not with our history. I just wanted you to know.”
“Why?” Tony finally spoke hoarsely after a long silence.
Huffing in one long gust of breath, he said, “Couple reasons.” James stared down at his hands, following the lines and the metallic surface with his eyes. “People were starting to notice. I suspect my teammates know and out respect for me, they’ve kept their mouth shut. Hell, even the baby-vengers were on to me and I heard comments here and there. I knew sooner or later, someone was going to slip it around you.” He closed his fingers into a fist, watching distractedly at the plates shifting into an almost seamless pattern. “I would rather have you hear it from me than have you confronting me, asking me if it was true.”
“Would you have told me straight?”
It took a few worrying seconds as James contemplated the question seriously. “I would like to think I wouldn’t lie to you but to be honest, I don’t react well if I’m put on the spot like that.” James paused with a frown and then shook his head. “I don’t know. This is why I came to you, because I don’t want to put myself in any situation that could cause that particular scenario. At least this way, it ends on my terms.” He finally glanced up to look at Tony but found nothing behind the genius’s blank expression. “If it helps, I don’t want to lie to you. As long I’m capable and a sound of mind, I’ll do my best to be honest with you.”
They both sat frozen for a moment that seemed to last for hours, staring at one another in complete silence before Tony flickered his eyes to his jeans, downcast. “It does,” Tony admitted with a whisper. “I . . . that’s not . . .” he struggled for words, pausing to take a nervous breath, “I don’t know what to say.”
James wasn’t sure if he could list everything he was feeling right at this moment as the words registered in him. Disappointed, maybe but not exactly. It was oddly reminiscent of the day when James was staring through the broken glass of Helicarrier, watching as Steve fell, fell and fell down. Fear, confusion, sadness and a sweet pain that ached to the bones. But there was a gratitude that hadn’t been there before and a sense of pure relief.
Staring at Tony’s eyes—filled with concern and anxiety—James knew that everything was going to be okay. It might be awkward for a while between them but James was confident they would relearn to navigate back to familiar territory. James wasn’t going anywhere and he was absolutely sure neither was Tony because one thing James could always count on is that their friendship was stronger than rejection and unrequited feelings.
“You don’t have to,” James responded with a smile and threw the fortune cookie directly at Tony. “That’s the point, idiot.”
The fortune cookie hit accurately on Tony’s chest. “That was uncalled for,” he groused as he picked up the cookie from his laps but there was no heat in his voice. To James’ surprise, there was a tentative shyness in Tony’s expression that James found bit endearing. “Thank you . . . for telling me.”
Letting himself relax, James chuckled, “You’re welcome, Atlas.” And with a slight teasing tone, which James hoped would distract Tony enough to change the subject, “Really? Minton’s?”
A surprised laughter escaped from Tony’s lips and it made James break into a toothy grin.
*****
“Correct me if I’m wrong, you think the Accords was the cause of the divide between Avengers teammates.”
“Yes.”
There was a small pause behind him. “You never explained why you were against the Accords.” Another pause. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Steve tore his gaze from the placid lake scene from the window to stare at the doctor sitting in the armchair. Then he blinked distractedly before the words registered, straightening his back. “It’s rather complicated.”
Dr. Alloway studied him dispassionately. “So is the reason why you’re here in first place,” she pointed out and Steve couldn’t hide a flinch at that remark. “Regardless, that answer is not acceptable. You’re hedging.”
Sighing, he leaned against the chair, his expression grim. “I guess . . . I was against them because I used to believe in authority bigger than us.” He smiled bitterly at his own naivete. “But time and place had shown me I was wrong to place my faith in them. I’ve witnessed corruption in any facet of governance or agencies that were supposed help the people, help the world. Instead, I discovered they were helping themselves, driven by their own agendas to obtain more power, men who used truth in any variations to suit their needs.” He recalled Fury and the story of his grandfather in the elevator. “If that wasn’t the case, then control and distrust toward people.”
“Interesting.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Did you witness this corruption inside the United Nation or something similar?”
“Yes,” he said automatically but then he blinked as her words registered with him. “No? Not directly. I’m not sure.” He frowned. “I get the point you’re trying to make. I know the UN is different from any organization I dealt with before, but S.H.I.E.L.D. was one of the biggest and best intelligence agencies ever to exist and they were infiltrated by Hydra to the top and nearly caused massive assassinations on U.S. soil. If S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn’t withstand the breach, how is the United Nation supposed to be any better?”
The doctor tapped her fingers on the armrest as she processed this. “Okay,” Dr. Alloway said, “explain what the UN is with your own words. What are they, or more importantly, what they do?”
The question took Steve aback because it felt she was veering off the subject entirely and he was about to point this out to her but she gave him an expectant look that brooked no arguments and the question on the tip of Steve’s tongue died upon seeing her expression.
He wasn’t stupid, Steve knew what she was trying to do and felt it was a pointless topic to broach upon, but regardless he answered it. “The UN are peacekeepers between countries formed by different sovereign states. Their purpose is to avoid another conflict like WWII.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes?” Steve floundered, sensing that he missed something. “That’s what they do. Should there be more?”
She raised a single eyebrow. “Of course. For one, how they do operate? Do they work as intelligence agency? Or are they like the US government? Military? Paramilitary agency? What is their structure of organization?”
Steve frowned because he wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I suppose they’re government . . . sort of.”
“So, in other words, you have no idea how they work.”
He flushed, embarrassed. “No.”
“Let me get this if I have this right. You opposed the UN and their Accords without knowing what they do?”
“It doesn’t matter what they do.” Steve sighed because it was a belief he had defended over and over again and he was weary. “I was afraid the Accords would prevent us from protecting and helping the one in need.”
“And what make you so sure the UN or the Accords would prevent you in this?”
“Because in reality, signing it would forfeit any action any member of the Avengers could take—whether to save one person or thousands—because every country has the incentive to block us at some point to make our intervention or use us for a political purpose.”
“If that’s the case, what would’ve stopped you if you guys realized you were used as political pawns? Or being blocked from doing whatever you wanted to do? Would you’ve remained passive?”
“No, of course not. We would’ve ignored it regardless of our orders.”
“Would that include the Avengers who supported the Accords?”
“Yes,” Steve said confidently. “As much we disagreed, one thing prevailed that rendered every argument moot, which was: saving others.”
“Then why did you think signing it would stop you?”
“It would’ve made our life harder.”
“Based on your reports, not signing made your life even harder than otherwise,” she pointed out matter-of-factly. “At worst, it would’ve brought you time to make your voice heard while proposing a better solution for the Avengers while adhering to the public’s demands.”
Steve thinned his lips. “I didn’t know then . . . I know it sounds like bullshit, but honestly, I thought they sure as hell weren't going listen to me.” He tried not to tense his jaw, recalling the placid smile of Senator Brandt, Colonel Philip’s refusal, and Fury’s dismissive look when Steve tried to take the initiative or voiced his concerns, or the horror he felt when he heard the WSC had sent a nuke to New York City. “Still, even knowing that, I wouldn’t have signed it.”
“Why not?”
“It wasn’t right, back then, before it was amended,” Steve said, frowning, not liking how it sounded out from his own lips but he didn’t know any other way to phrase his thoughts. Not wanting to end like this, he continued, “I still have some reservations after they did the overhaul of the Accords. I won’t say it’s bad. In some aspects, it is better than the first or the second or the third amendments. To this day, there are limitations we didn’t have before and it is a bit trying to appease everyone knowing at the end of the day, no one is going be happy.”
“That’s rather bleak way of thinking.”
Steve looked up at the older woman, trying to gauge what the doctor was thinking, but there was nothing there except curiosity. She stared back with her neutral expression, strangely distant; her hair was still perfectly arranged, manicured fingers lay lax on the armchairs as she sat there. In some way, her calmness bothered Steve since he felt raw down to the bone and he wanted to push his feeling to her enough to rattle her serenity. However, at the same time, he was glad she remained untouchable and distant enough to provide him a sounding board.
“I would like to propose something,” she stated. “An assignment.”
Steve nodded, waiting.
“It’s rather unorthodox,” Dr. Alloway admitted, her expression careful. “You might not want to do it and I will understand if you refuse to. However, before I say anything, I want to remind you to hold back your first and second instincts and give it the due consideration it deserves, and then you decide.”
Suddenly uncomfortable, Steve squirmed in his seat and wanted nothing more than demand what she meant by that but he stifled the urge.
“The assignment is: go to all of the Avengers-UN liaison offices and watch how they run— all the way to the top and to the bottom. If they move to the field, go with them if you must.”
Steve froze and opened his mouth then closed, at loss. “Why?”
“I believe it’s good for you,” Dr. Alloway responded simply.
“I—” Steve stumbled, confused. “Yes?”
She held her hand up. “Don’t say yes, yet. I don’t want you to agree on something because you feel you have to or that perhaps you think that I ‘know’ better. I don’t, Steve. Yes, I may be a qualified doctor, and I understand you in some ways, but I don’t know you. Not completely. Only you know what’s ticking behind your head.” She leaned her back against the chair. “Take couple days and really think through.”
Dumbstruck, Steve stared at her for a long moment before he took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Good.” She smiled blandly and suddenly, Steve was reminded of Phil Coulson.