Chapter Text
Rainbow lights shimmered in the darkness, whirling wildly as Ferris wheels and Tilt-O-Whirls and Merry-Go-Rounds spin their passengers around and around. Children screamed in cheer as they tramped through the amusement park grounds, dragging their indifferent parents along to the next ride. The cloying scent of cotton candy wafted through the air.
“So… what do you want to do?”
Fourteen-year old Tony Stark dug the toe of his sneaker into the wooden planks of the pier, shrugging at his chaperone’s question. He wrinkled his nose but winced as the skin shifted over his bruised face, one eye blackened and nearly swollen shut, dried blood clinging to his cut lip.
Happy Hogan sighed. Twenty-one and employed as Tony’s chaperone, he felt bad for the kid. He looked around, searching for something that might take his charge’s mind off the awful incident from earlier in the day.
“How ‘bout some food?”
Without answering, Tony started to make his way to the food court. Happy followed behind, keeping a close eye on the forlorn teenager. At a booth, Happy stepped forward to order two funnel cakes and they went over to a small table to sit and pick at the fried dessert. It was strange, having this energetic kid before him act so sullen and silent.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.”
Every bite was difficult for Tony, the motion of eating pulling the skin around his wounds, opening the cuts to bleed some more. Once every few chews he’d wipe carefully at his eyes, refusing to let the world around them see him cry.
Happy let him eat in peace, scoping the area around them for any possible danger. The duties of being the chaperone of Howard Stark’s son extend far beyond just driving the kid to and from school. Happy was okay with it, it was a decent job that paid well. And Tony wasn’t much of a hassle, surprisingly.
Tony mumbled something, too quiet to catch with the boisterous shouts of amusement park guests.
Happy leaned in toward his charge. “Sorry, what?”
“It was my fault,” Tony said, louder to let his companion hear him.
“What was your fault?”
The teenager gestured to his face.
Happy frowned. “How was it your fault?”
Tony shrugged, embarrassed. He tore his funnel cake into tiny pieces, letting the powdered sugar coat his fingers. The frown on his face deepened.
“Tony, you can tell me anything.”
“You won’t tell my dad?”
Happy shook his head. “I promise, I won’t tell him anything. You want me to pinky swear? ‘Cause I’ll do it. I’ll be totally mortified, but I’ll do it and I’ll keep it.”
The silly suggestion made Tony’s lips lift into a smirk for a moment.
“Pinky promises are for kids.”
“You are a kid, dipshit.”
“I am not!”
“Well you ain’t an adult.”
Tony huffed out a laugh, but it was short lived, the frown creeping back on his face. He sniffed, wiping again at his face.
“I did something dumb.”
Happy waited, patient. His charge was quite the genius, but he was still a kid, still needing that understanding look, that unconditional support. Happy may not be a genius, but he knew how hard it was to be a kid sometimes.
“I… I asked someone out.”
Happy looked Tony over, watching him fidget in his seat.
“That takes some guts. How does that lead to a busted face?”
It was agonizing watching Tony shake with anxiety. This was so far from normal for the kid genius, who usually acted so confident, so chatty and excited.
“It was Ty Stone.”
For a few moments, Happy couldn’t register what Tony had said. He sat back, mulling over the information.
“That kid you hang out with from your calculus class?”
Tony’s head barely tipped in a nod. The tears were free-flowing now, trickling down his black and blue face.
“I asked him out after school and…” Tony gestured to his eye. “I’m so stupid.”
It broke Happy’s heart to see Tony so upset, so utterly humiliated by not just a rejection, but a brutal retaliation for expressing his feelings for another boy. A boy who was supposed to be his friend. Tony put up a tough façade in front of most people, but Happy knew that this kid was so kindhearted on the inside.
“Fuck that kid.”
Tony’s head snapped up, brown eyes as wide as the bruises would allow. “What?”
“You heard me. Ty Stone can go choke on a cactus.” Happy leaned in conspiratorially toward Tony. “I’ll kick his ass for you, boss. You say the word and I’ll give him a right hook he won’t forget.”
A startled laugh burst from Tony’s mouth. He nibbled at his bottom lip. “You don’t… you don’t think I’m weird? For asking a guy out?”
Happy gave him a wide smile. “Kid, you can like whatever you want. Guy, girl, alien. Anyone who says otherwise will have to answer to me.”
Tony gave a timid, watery smile. “Thanks, Happy.”
“No problem, boss.” Happy looked around. “How ‘bout we do some fun stuff before we head out?”
Hesitant, Tony stepped into the dim room, giving the dark draperies and warm candlelight a bitter, disapproving look. Spicy incense burned, filling the space with a smoky quality. A table with two chairs sat in the middle of the tiny room, a large crystal ball sitting on top reflecting the astrology tablecloth beneath it.
An older woman stepped out from behind a curtain, draped in extravagant fabrics and jewelry, greying hair long and loose around her shoulders. She barely cast a glance at Tony as she took her place at the table.
“You here to get your fortune told, or what?”
Tony sucked in a deep breath and went to sit across the table from the fortune teller.
“This is so stupid,” he muttered under his breath, hunched over in the chair.
“Then why are you here, Tony Stark?” the fortune teller asked, shuffling a deck of tarot cards.
Startled, Tony’s jerked his head up. “How’d you know my name?”
The woman set aside the tarot cards and absently ran her hands over the crystal ball. “The spirits tell me a lot. But then, you don’t believe in any of this stuff, do you?”
“Magic doesn’t exist.” Tony was confident in his response.
“So you say. Do you want me to tell your future or not? I’d rather not waste my time any longer and I have other customers.” She gave the teenager a hard look, holding out a hand.
Tony mulled over her words before pulling two dollar bills out of the back pocket of his jeans and slapping them into the woman’s outstretched hand. He sat back in the chair and crossed his arms. He couldn’t fathom why he wanted this even though he didn’t believe in this shit.
The fortune teller tucked the money into the bodice of her dress and began running her hands over the crystal ball again. “Do you have any specific questions you’d like answered?”
“Not really. What do people normally ask?”
“Hmm, if they’ll be successful or rich in their future. When they will die and how. A lot about their romantic future, who they will marry, that sort of thing. People are not very original.”
Tony thought over the questions. None of them were particularly interesting, but his earlier predicament kept swirling in his head. Would there be anyone who could love someone like him? The rich kid genius who liked guys as much as girls? The thought of ever finding someone who would like him for who he was sent his stomach swirling with fear and anxiety. He rolled with wounded lip around between his teeth, opening the scab and sucking some of the blood into his mouth and letting it slide across his tongue and down his throat.
“I guess… I dunno. Will I find someone who, y’know… likes me?”
He’d never felt more stupid in his life, asking a fortune teller if he’ll find someone who had a romantic interest in him. He slouched further down in his seat, cheek flush with embarrassment.
Tony had to give the woman credit for really playing up the act. He watched as she looked hard into the crystal ball, running patterns over the clear solid, as if searching the universe for the answer to his question, writing out a question to the spirits. Her bracelets jingled and clinked against the ball. Tony realized that there was soft, ethereal music playing in the background and he had to refrain from letting out a snort of laughter.
“Stephen Strange,” the woman said, sitting back and rolling her shoulders.
“What?”
“The person you wish to know about is named Stephen Strange. He will lead you to your destiny.”
A snort slipped from Tony. “Stephen Strange? Huh, what a dumb name.”
“I don’t control what names people own.” She raised an eyebrow. “Any more questions? It’ll be another two dollars.”
Tony shook his head, standing. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”
He set off for the door, but the woman’s voice stopped him.
“Tony Stark.”
Tony turned back to her. She had a soft, thoughtful look on her face.
“Futures can be changed. You are a smart boy, don’t let what others decide your course for you.”
A chill ran down Tony’s spine. That was an odd feeling. He gave the fortune teller a curt nod and stepped out the door and back into the chaos of the amusement park where Happy was waiting, the doorbell jangling in his wake.