Chapter Text
At the end of game night, Betty and Bruce left together, arms wrapped around each other. Clint and Natka were holding hands, as they often did. Steve went off by himself. After everyone else left, Tony lingered behind.
Phil gave Tony an appraising look, then remarked, "You were extra good today."
Tony nodded solemnly. "It was Betty's turn," he said. "She's new at this. She needed you to pay attention to her, not get distracted by me messing around. I wasn't expecting Bruce to go off like he did, though."
"I didn't see that one coming, either," Phil admitted. He knew his "kids" well enough that it rarely happened, but every once in while, something completely blindsided him. In his experience, it was usually female assets who ran into problems with gender issues. There were always exceptions, though. "I'm sure Bruce will be all right, Tony. Now we know to take extra care with that topic, and besides, Betty's a very calming influence for him."
"Yeah, she's good at that," Tony said. "She reminds me a little of you that way. Like a buffer solution in the lab, pulling everything toward neutral."
Phil had never heard his handling skill described like that before, but it made sense. And handling -- he hadn't quite completed the connection earlier, but wasn't that exactly what Betty did for Bruce? She was his handler, he was her asset, they just didn't have the benefit of training to show them how it was supposed to work. So they'd had to do everything by trial and error, usually with a bunch of hostiles surrounding them trying to tear them apart.
Phil made a mental note to send Betty some of the introductory material that SHIELD used for new recruits who showed potential in asset management. He'd ask Clint and Natasha to talk with Bruce, too, because they had gotten training for the other side of that pairing that the rest of the Avengers had missed. Phil felt confident that Betty and Bruce were smart enough to sort through that material, pick out anything they could use, modify what almost fit, and discard whatever wouldn't work for them. Maybe he'd give it another look himself, and see what he could adapt for the other Avengers. Just because they didn't perform in the field like ordinary assets, didn't mean the material was all useless to them. It just might need a little creative interpretation. Phil was good at that.
"Thank you, Tony. That was a very astute observation, and you've been a big help," Phil said.
"You're welcome," Tony said. Then he scuffed one toe over the carpet, bringing it up to rub the back of the opposite calf. "It's just ... I'm not sure how long I can keep this up. I don't want to ruin anyone else's fun, or make you mad, but ..."
Phil hugged him. "You don't have to keep it up any longer than you feel comfortable. You're not ruining anything and you won't make me mad," Phil assured him. "Game night is supposed to be relaxing. As long as you don't hurt yourself or anyone else, or somehow break something we can't fix or replace, then it's okay if you act up a little. I understand why you need that sometimes. I really do."
"I'm glad somebody does," Tony said. "I think ... I was always looking for this, and it just took me a really long time to find it. I looked in a lot of wrong places. Did some amazingly dumb stuff along the way."
That explained a great deal about Tony's infamous antics. He hadn't needed a boot to the rear, as some people had so crudely put it. He needed someone to notice that he was starving to death for responsible guidance and feed him some. No wonder Tony had gotten into so much trouble.
Phil's conscience gave a guilty twinge as he remembered their disastrous first meeting. He could have saved everyone a lot of time and heartache if he'd seen through Tony's facade sooner. Then again, Tony had spent a lifetime perfecting that mask, and it held up under all kinds of public scrutiny. Almost nobody saw through it, even if they knew him for a long time. Stupendous emotional armor, Phil thought, recalling Betty's assessment. She certainly called that one right.
"Well, you have this now, Tony. You have me, and the rest of the team, too. We'll make sure that you get what you need. We'll always take care of you, even if it's inconvenient sometimes, because we know that you'll take care of us when we need you to do that," Phil said.
Tony nodded, a little too fast. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'm really glad about that. Don't know how I got this lucky." He hesitated, then went on, "I'm sorry about the way I melted down in the jet on the way home from picking up Betty."
"It's all right," Phil said. "You scared me for a minute, though, when you first said that you weren't okay. I thought General Ross managed to stab you or something that I hadn't noticed."
"No, just ... it was weird," Tony said. He frowned and rubbed a hand through his hair. "When I dumped him on the carpet I felt fine. Then it started to creep up on me. At first I thought I could shake it off, so I just kept going. The more I thought about what Betty said to him, though, the worse it got. It was like, I don't know, some kind of slow-acting poison or something."
"Words can be like that," Phil said. Oh yes, they could. Words could sink deep and leave wounds that festered for years. They weren't as easy to dig out as a bullet or an arrowhead, either, and the wounds rarely healed clean. He knew all about that. He'd seen it in more than one of his assets, especially Clint and Natasha after the incident with Loki. Clint was still mentally limping over that. Natasha at least had given as good as she got. That made Phil wonder how Loki was doing, because Thor was part of the team and what hurt Loki would necessarily hook into Thor too. There was nothing to be done about that for now, though.
"I'm glad you were there for me," Tony said. "I'm glad you were willing to listen and not just tell me to put a good face on it because somebody was watching."
"I'll always be there for you, Tony," Phil promised. "I always want to listen if something goes wrong for you, and if you really can't wait without hurting yourself further, then I don't care who is watching. You're more important than keeping up appearances."
Tony melted against Phil, snuggling against the soft bathrobe. "Thanks, Uncle Phil. You're the greatest," he said.
"World's Greatest Uncle, truth in advertising," Phil said, tapping the t-shirt that he wore under his bathrobe. On some nights -- like tonight -- he really felt like it.
