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Part I
“Come on, Mr Stark, we’ve got to hurry.” Peter was bouncing on the ball of his feet near the elevator door.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Mr Stark? It makes me feel old.” Tony smiled at the almost fifteen-year-old boy. “Call me Tony, or uncle T, or anything other than Mr Stark for that matter.”
“Alright then Tones.” A small second voice piped up behind him. “But if we don’t leave now we will be late.”
“No!” Tony replied firmly, turning around on his heel to face the source of the voice. “Harley, you know only Rhodey can use that nickname.”
“Dad, we really have to leave.” said a third, slightly more mature, voice which belonged to the black-haired boy who just stepped out of the kitchen.
“Blainers!” Tony exclaimed enthusiastically, but he fell silent upon seeing his son’s deadpan expression.
“Dad.” Blaine deadpanned, “You know only Kurt can use that nickname.”
“Kurt? But he never does.”
“Exactly.” Blaine said, “Because he knows I don’t like it.”
“Alright B, whatever you want.” Tony put his hands up in a sign of peace.
“Mr Stark?” the first voice said.
“Yes, Mr Parker?” Tony replied, the sarcasm being completely ignored by the smallest boy.
“Do you mind if I- you know- I would like it if- well- if I could-” the boy paused for a moment. “Never mind.” he finished softly before staring at the ground.
“Peter.” Tony grabbed the boy gently by the shoulders, forcing him to look up. “If you start a sentence then please finish it. Remember that everything you want to say is worth saying.” Peter looked away in uncertainty. Over Tony’s shoulder Blaine looked at him, the oldest boy knew what Peter wanted to ask, even though no words were exchanged. Blaine simply nodded. Peter's eyes instantly became grateful and the tension in his shoulders disappeared like snow in the sun. Tony felt the boy’s shoulders relax but wisely kept his mouth shut. With renewed confidence Peter said:
“Mr Stark, do you- do you mind if I call you dad too?” Tony froze, he had expected a lot of different things, but this was not one of them. He was flattered, his heart felt like it had grown two sizes, but he was confused too, and slightly anxious for his son’s reaction. Behind him, and thus unbeknownst to him, Blaine sported his trademark goofy smile that lit up his face and gave Peter a thumbs-up with both his hands. Harley was shocked for a few seconds, before seeing Blaine’s reaction and chiming in with: “Please, Mr Stark?”
Tony’s eyes left Peter's face the moment he heard the second voice. His eyes alternated between Harley and Peter for a what seemed like an eternity, although it was only a few seconds. His eyes ended on Blaine, silently asking him for- well not necessarily for permission, any kind of positive reaction would do. But contrary to what Tony expected Blaine still sported his brighter-then-the-sun smile. Reminding Tony that, by God, he loved his boy. Or rather, he loved all his boys, because if they were going to call him dad, he was going to call them his boys.
“Mr Stark?” Peter said in a small voice. And after a short pause, in which nobody said a word, he continued with “I’m sorry, that was a stupid question, I should never have-” Tony cut him short.
“Peter, my boy, my son. I would be honoured. As long as curly over there doesn’t object.” Tony looked at his son, his biological son.
“Dad …” Blaine started, “do you really have to ask? I already considered them my brothers anyway. My extremely annoying and very much younger brothers.” he said, followed by sticking out his tongue to the boys, his brothers. Harley immediately broke out in a happy celebratory dance, his fists pumping in the air, and somehow still managing to stick his tongue out to Blaine. For Peter it took a bit longer to sink in. He just stood there, unbelieving, his arms limp by his sides, smiling as if he had just won the lottery. And in Peters mind, he did just win the lottery. Tony’s hand still on his shoulder the only thing that kept him from floating away.
“I’m very glad that you’re all happy.” Tony said, “But we really need to get going or we’re going to be late. Come on …” he paused for a moment, looking all three of his boys in the eyes, one by one, before softly continuing: “sons.”
Part II
“Going down, Sir.” JARVIS told the four men in the elevator.
“Thanks, J.” Tony replied before the IA continued:
“Sir, you are aware of the fact that you need swimming shorts and a towel if you want to go swimming?” At moments like these Tony almost regretted ever teaching the IA sarcasm, but at the same time he felt proud.
“Fuck,” he heard one of the boys mutter under their breath, he suspected Harley but decided against saying anything about it. Instead, he answered JARVIS with:
“You are completely right, J. Will you take us back up, please?” He then turned to the boys and jokingly said: “Why didn’t any of you remind me?”
“Well dad,” the black-haired boy started, “you’re the adult. Besides, we all have our stuff with us.” Blaine’s statement was followed by all three boys smiling mischievously and pointing at their respective bags; Peter his simple backpack, Harley his miniature duffle, and Blaine his shoulder bag.
“Oh, I see, you’re conspiring against me. I can’t believe this, I thought you were my sons!” Tony was just about to charge at them, to do what he didn’t know yet, but he would figure that out by the time it was necessary, it probably would be something along the lines of a tickle fight. However, JARVIS intervened by declaring they had reached the living quarters and opening the elevator door, giving the boys the chance to escape.
“What?! You too, J?” Tony exclaimed.
“Me what, Sir?” JARVIS sounded innocently through the speakers.
By the time Tony had grabbed the stuff he needed the boys had already taken the elevator down to the garage. It was Blaine’s idea, he had something he needed to discuss with his brothers. Both of them were mature enough now, even though they still acted like children.
“Guys,” Blaine started the moment they set foot in the garage and JARVIS closed the door behind them, “I need to talk to you about something.”
“I knew it.” both boys said in harmony. But whereas Harley happily continued it with: “You’re finally going to tell us you’re gay!” Peter sadly continued with: “I knew you wouldn’t want us to call Mr Stark dad.”
“That’s not it Peter.” Blaine put a and on Peter's shoulder and pulled him into his side. “You know I love you both almost as much as I love Kurt.” Before looking Harley in the eyes and continuing with a deadpan expression and a level of sarcasm clearly inspired by Kurt “And no Harley, I am perfectly straight. Which is why my boyfriend’s name is Kurt.”
“Wait, you really love us almost as much as you love Kurt?” Harley said happily, ignoring the last part of Blaine’s sentence. “That must be soooo much then!” He held out his arms to either side of his body to demonstrate how much he meant.
“Yes, Harley, that much.” Blaine smiled softly. “But there still is something I need to tell you about dad.” Peter pushed himself out of Blaine’s embrace to look him in the eye and Harley’s expression changed to something way older than barely thirteen.
“There is nothing wrong is there?” To Blaine’s right, Peter softly gasped and wrapped his arms around himself, almost to keep him from falling apart.
“No!” Blaine said hastily, “No, there is nothing wrong. Not really.” He softly squeezed Peter's shoulder before continuing, “I just want you guys to know that dad doesn’t like swimming.”
“What?” Harley said, clearly expecting something way more serious. “That’s it?”
“Yes, that’s it. But it’s bigger than you think. Do you remember a few months ago in dad’s workshop?” Both the boys nodded, Peters immediately understood what Harley needed a bit more explanation for.
“You- You means that …” Peter trailed off.
“Yes.” Blaine said simply, before continuing to explain it for Harley. “What you saw is called an anxiety attack. It is caused by traumatic experiences and in dad’s case it results in all his senses shutting down and his mind replaying those events, like a movie, over and over. And sometimes he’ll even start imagining things, which usually makes it worse.” Throughout Blaine’s explanation Harley’s expression changed slowly to understanding. Peter just kept hugging himself, until Blaine put an arm around him causing the boy to latch onto Blaine’s shirt. The oldest continued nonetheless.
“Luckily his workshop is a familiar environment, and we are familiar people. But you saw what it did to him, imagine what would happen if he had an attack at the pool today.” Harley nodded with an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. All of their minds went back to that afternoon. To finding Tony sitting under his desk, knees pulled up to his chest, his hands white from the force he was putting in squeezing his legs. He was whispering something about “Not him. Not my boy.” Blaine recognised it immediately, and so did Peter, freezing on the spot. Blaine quickly sprang into action by ordering JARVIS to get the other two boys out of the lab before kneeling in front of his father. Harley had to guide Peter out, the smallest boy unable to coordinate his steps. The last thing they heard was Tony screaming an agonising “No!” that was cut off by JARVIS shutting the door.
“Sir is approaching, Master Blaine.” JARVIS warned them, pulling them all out of the memory.
“Thanks, J.” Blaine answered, for once forgetting to remind JARVIS not to call him master. He turned to his brothers. “Just be careful with him, okay?”
“Careful with who?” Tony said, stepping out of the elevator. Harley whirled around out of surprise, almost falling over, and Peter quickly let go of Blaine’s now rumpled shirt. Harley was just about to open his mount when Blaine said:
“Careful with uhm uuu-Uncle Bruce?” Blaine said questioningly. Harley saved him by saying:
“Yeah, uncle Bruce’s nephew. He’s coming too, right?” Tony looked at the three boys as if he saw water burning. The pool party was the tradition Peter’s class had of celebrating the end of the school year, which had absolutely nothing to do with Bruce. Peter was looking down at his feet trying to go unnoticed, Blaine was about to start fumbling with his bowtie before realising he wasn’t wearing any, and Harley was sporting that too-big smile that let Tony in on the fact that they were definitely not talking about Bruce’s nephew. He was about to question the boys when Peter piped up, saving their asses.
“We’re going to be late, come on.” Harley happily jumped on the bandwagon.
“Yeah, dad, which car are we taking?” And so, Tony let it go.
Part III
By the time they got to the pool order was restored and everything was back to normal, including the fact they were at least half an hour late.
“Sorry we're late.” Tony apologised, “But you know how the boys can be.” He almost got away with his apology, hadn’t it been for the next five words Blaine said:
“Dad forgot his swimming trunks.”
“Really, B? Really?!” Tony pretended to be utterly offended.
“The truth hurts, doesn’t it, dad?” If he wasn’t above sticking out his tongue in public Blaine would have, but he composed himself and turned around in search of an empty chair. His brothers following suit. It got some weird looks, but the prospect of a pool day quickly got them distracted. Tony claimed a chair between the group of mothers. Like Blaine suspected Tony wouldn’t go into the water and rather spend his afternoon sunbathing and talking with the women. Blaine had no idea what they were talking about but by the looks of it, it was baking, magazines, the household (Blaine saw his father look at him a few times before smiling and animatedly talking on), and back to baking. After a while, Blaine unconsciously decided that his dad could take care of himself and he dived headfirst in the water to play with his brothers.
The end of the afternoon came closer, the sun got lower and weaker. Blaine was happily floating around, enjoying the feeling of the water moving around him when he heard some kind of commotion coming from the direction where Tony was supposed to be sunbathing. Blaine looked up to see a few fathers of Peter’s classmates trying to get Tony in the pool. They were still about twenty meters away from the pool, but they had just decided it was easier to just carry Tony and dump him in the deep end of the pool. Tony looked absolutely terrified, struggling wildly, but going completely limp when they picked him up. Blaine felt like someone had put a log on his chest, he had trouble breathing and he saw a few dark spots in his vision, but nothing was going to stop him from getting his dad back with two feet on the ground. He pushed himself out of the water while shouting both Peter’s and Harley’s name. The two younger boys looked up at the distressed sound of their brother’s voice and saw him sprinting towards the beach chairs. Peter was the first one to realise what was going on, but like the first time, he froze. Harley’s incoherent shout got the smallest brother back to reality quite quickly and together they rushed away in the same direction as Blaine. Leaving the kids they were playing with completely baffled, frozen in a game of catch.
Tony had no idea what was happening. One moment he was contently talking to Ellen and Mary about baking apple pies. Or rather they were talking about apple pies, he had substituted it with tinkering in his workshop, but it conveyed the same feeling of peacefulness, so it was fine. The next moment five big, and Tony unconsciously declared them as not handsome, men blocked his sun. He was just about to say something about it when the one with the navy swimming trunks, Tony thought his name was something along the lines of Dean, opened his mouth.
“You haven’t been in the water all day, Stark. Does your iron rust?” The man turned around to his friend, who were all laughing too loud at their leader’s joke, and high-fived one of them.
“The suit does not rust, smartass. It’s not made out of iron, it’s a gold-titanium alloy. Do your research.” Tony deadpanned. Unable to hold himself back he continued, “Besides, I’m not wearing it, am I?” He gestured to his purple swimming trunks. “You really need to see an optician.” Tony put his sunglasses back on and was just about to ignore the men when two of them grabbed his shoulders and hauled him to his feet, the sunglasses forgotten on the ground next to the chair.
“I think you should go for a swim, Stark. It would be a shame not to on a day like this.” the leader said. Fear crept into Tony’s eyes.
“I’d rather not.” he said, faking a calm and composed exterior. Inside, however, he was freaking out. His mind already starting to short circuit, his thoughts becoming incoherent. The men didn’t let go, instead they started to push him towards the deep end of the pool.
“No. Don’t. Please. No.” Tony sputtered while planting his heels in the ground in an attempt to slow them down. His plan backfired. Three of the men lifted him up, carrying him towards the pool. Tony flailed a few times more times with his arms before his minds shut down completely and he went limp in their arms. The last thing he saw were the womens' shocked faces. His mind registered someone shouting Peter’s and Harley’s name, but soon everything got taken over by the never-ending black. Tony braced himself for the torture his mind was about to put him through.
Later that day the other spectators would say they had never seen such a tight and protective family, but at the moment it all happened nobody lent them a hand. Still, multiple things were happening at the same time.
Blaine crossed the ground to the deep end of the pool in record time. He ran like his life depended on it, and in a sense it did because his father was one of the most important people in his life. While he was running he was only concerned with one thing, nothing else mattered. He would apologise later to the people he roughly shoved out of the way or the people the people he temporarily deafened by his sudden shouts.
“No! Dad! No!”
Peter’s spider senses kicked in the moment he climbed out of the pool, and the fact that he was wearing nothing but his bright red swimming trunks didn’t stop him from running faster than any teenager should. Arriving at Tony’s side well before Harley, but just after Blaine. Peter didn’t say anything during his dash across the poolside, he barely even dared to breathe. He did, however, pray. Not to anyone in particular, because he wasn’t religious in any way, but if Gods like Thor existed then there must be somebody somewhere that was able to help them.
Harley knew he wasn’t able to keep up with his brothers, Blaine had too much of a head start and Peter ran almost twice as fast as a normal teenager. And so, Harley did what he did best; making as much noise as possible to redirect all the attention to him. Although this time it wasn’t that he wanted the attention, it was that the attention had had to not be on either Tony or Peter. Harley slowed down just enough to take a deep breath and then started his waterfall of words.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, assholes?! Lay off my dad! Five against one, are you fucking insane?! Put him down! Put my dad down, you cowards!” Harley felt the eyes burning holes in his back, in his neck, on his cheeks, but he didn’t stop. At least they were not looking at Tony anymore.
Dean’s mind was simple, one task at the time. And right now, that task was to get Stark in the water. He had ordered some of the other men, he wouldn’t call them his friends, they were more like mindless followers, to carry the man when he struggled. You see, Dean had a talent, a talent for making people follow him no matter what he did. Some might call him a mutant for it, but Dean liked to call it leadership. Dean also had a strong dislike for Tony Stark. Why? He wasn’t even sure. Maybe it was because Stark was rich and famous, maybe it was because Stark was successful and handsome, or maybe it was because Stark was queer as a three-dollar bill and still managed to attract pretty ladies like a magnet. Point being, Dean wanted Tony Stark to end up head first in the pool. Dean did not realise Tony had gone completely limp in his henchmen’s arms, and the men were too much under his influence to say anything about it. And so, Dean marched on towards the pool, ignoring everything around him, only focused on his goal.
Tony lived in a world of black. He did not see the sun setting, did not hear his boys shouting, did not feel the hands holding him up or the wind tickling his feet. Instead, an image arose from the depths of his mind. He was back in that cave, but he was too high up to be standing on the ground. Looking down he realised he was floating about ten feet off the ground, and that he didn’t have a body. Which was weird, this had never happened before and somewhere his mind tried to tell him that, but he was too busy with everything else to realise it. An agonizing scream made him look up from where his body was supposed to be. There was a young man lying on a makeshift bed. Yinsen was bent over his chest in deep concentration, blocking the man from Tony’s view. At first glance Tony assumed it was him, who else could it be? But the second scream made Tony realise it was not him. It was something much, much worse. Tony recognised those dark curls and the screaming voice. Indeed, it was not him. It was his son.
“Blaine!” Tony shrieked, but no sound was produced. You’d need vocal cords for that, and Tony didn’t have those where he was floating in the air. Tony had never been known to give up easily, but however hard he tried to move or scream or shout it was to no avail. Nothing worked. And so, Tony was left to helplessly watch his son, his everything, undergo what he had to live through so many years ago. What he would never wish upon anyone, even his greatest enemies. Tony watched Blaine scream in agony while Yinsen put that ugly thing in his chest and hooked it up to a car battery. With every scream, Tony felt like something ripped him apart from the inside out. Knowing that this was just the beginning, knowing what would come next.
To the outside world, however, Tony remained motionless. He didn’t move, he barely even breathed.
The moment Blaine, and two seconds later Peter, skidded to a halt right in front of Dean's nose, the man realised something was not right. Dean barely knew the oldest brother, in fact today was the first time he had seen the boy Tony claimed was his son (or the first time in real life, because Tony showed the picture in his wallet to everyone), but he did know that a seventeen-year-old in a swimming trunk with colourful bowties all over it should not be wearing an expression as murderous as Blaine was. The boy’s light hazel eyes contained so much anger and destruction Dean almost questioned his plans with Tony. But it was the other boy that really struck him. Peter had been over to play with Dean’s kids a few times and he remembered him as a shy, polite boy. But said boy now stood in front of him, with his barely five feet, was shaking all over. His hands in tight fists, his chest heaving, his face red with anger. And those eyes, by God those dark brown eyes portrayed the darkest night Dean had ever seen.
The man stopped in his tracks, before looking around like he had just woken up from a trance. That’s when he heard the third brother and the waterfall of words he was producing. He looked from the murderous faces of Blaine and Peter to the approaching Harley, still spitting out words a boy his age was not supposed to know. And so, Dean did something he didn’t do very often; he turned around, looked back, and re-evaluated the situation. What he saw was not what he expected to see. Stark was being held up by all four men, two his shoulders, two his legs. The man’s head was tilted all the way back, hanging loosely in the air, almost as if he was asleep. It wasn’t until Dean saw Stark's eyes were closed and that his chest was barely moving that he realised the man was indeed unconscious.
In the few seconds it took Dean to take a look at Tony, Harley managed to reach his brothers. After another deep breath he continued his waterfall of words.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, you coward?! Put him down! Put my father down or so help me I will kick your ass into next week-” He was cut off by Blaine putting a hand on his shoulder.
“I think he gets the message, Harley.” Blaine never took his eyes off the man in front of him, towering at least a foot over him. With a serious but still very much murderous expression he said:
“I suggest you put my father down now or I will let my brothers have their way with you.” One look at the two younger boys told Dean he’d rather not have that. Later he would say it was because he couldn’t hurt children, he’d lose all the reputation he had built up. But at that moment, it was Peter’s eyes that made him order his men to put Stark down.The moment Tony was lowered to the ground the brothers completely ignored the five men. Blaine took the leading role, having experienced this before although not this severely.
“Peter, take his head.” Peter immediately rushed to get Tony’s head off the ground and into his lap. “Harley, get something to drink. No alcohol and no water, get something with flavour and sugar.”
“No way, I’m not leaving again!” Harley declared while kneeling down by Tony’s side and grabbing his left hand.
“Fine,” Blaine breathed, before turning to the five men. “You,” he pointed at one of them, “go get something to drink.” Blaine then moved his gaze to one of the four remaining and ordered them:
“You. Get me my phone, or my dad’s phone.” He watched them run off in different directions. Dean stood helplessly to the side, two of his henchmen still behind him awaiting orders, either from him or from Blaine. Blaine ignored them, he’d deal with them later.
Getting Tony out of the attack wasn’t nearly as difficult as Blaine expected it to be. By the time Blaine had ordered everyone what to do, Tony had started moving, making small noises, telling Blaine he was trying to get out. Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, the moment Tony touched the ground his imagination shattered. The images in his head not compatible anymore with the ground he was feeling in his back. All Blaine had to do was grab the man’s shoulders, steadying him, and he told Peter to watch the head and not let Tony hurt himself. With Peter’s hands on his head, Blaine’s hands on his shoulders, and Harley holding his left hand, Tony was transported back to reality. The man’s eyes shot open and he took a deep breath, lurching forward into a sitting position. Blaine and Peter quickly let go of him.
“No! Blaine!” Tony gasped, looking around in utter panic. “Blaine!”
“I’m here, dad.” Blaine said softly, not wanting to scare his father. It got his Tony to focus his eyes on the curly haired boy’s face.
“Blaine” Tony breathed relieved, pulling Blaine into a tight embrace. Feeling Blaine’s chest rise and fall without that hard, ugly thing in the middle of it made Tony release all the tension in his shoulders and he collapsed into Blaine’s arms murmuring something about “Thank God, you’re safe.”
It didn’t take long for Blaine to ask JARVIS to send Happy to come and get them. They were home within half an hour, where they put Tony to bed, against his wishes. But the moment his head touched the pillow he was fast asleep. JARVIS agreed with Blaine’s hypothesis that he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow morning. Not knowing what else to do but hanging their swimming trunks out to dry, the brothers asked JARVIS to order some take-out and put on a feel-good movie.
In his search for coffee early the next morning Tony found the boys fast asleep on the couch. Blaine in the middle, his feet on the coffee table, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly open. Harley had his legs stretched over the right side of the couch, his back leaning against Blaine’s side. Peter was curled up with his head in Blaine’s lap, his knees pulled up against his chest. He was cuddling one of Blaine’s hands as if it was some kind of stuffed animal. Tony smiled softly. Forgetting his coffee, he put a few blankets over the boys to keep them warm and then curled up in one of the armchairs, quickly falling back to sleep.
Part IV
“Sir, there is somebody approaching the front door.” JARVIS warned the people in the living room, putting a very negative emphasis on the word ‘somebody’ by dropping his tone. Tony was not expecting anybody, in fact, he cancelled his plans for the day, so he could spend it with his boys. The man turned to the three boys scattered across the room, the looks on their faces told him right away that they didn’t expect anyone either.
“J?” Tony asked, “What’s with the negative tone?”
“I suspect you know him, Sir. From a few days ago.” The IA switched to a slightly protective tone.
“From the pool? Who would- Oh.” Tony suddenly realised why JARVIS was being so glum.
“No.” Harley stated as if it was the end of a discussion. “No, Jarvis, do not open the door, I don’t want him in here.” Tony turned to his youngest with a surprised expression on his face.
“That almost sounds like you own the place, Harley.” He laughed weakly, uncertain about what to think of Dean showing up out of the blue. “But as far as I’m aware, I still make the decisions around here.”
“There is a ‘but’, isn’t there, dad?” Blaine said, “I can see the I-am-uncertain wrinkle in your forehead.”
“I have no such-” The look on his oldest son’s face made him stop mid-sentence. As a matter of fact, all three were sporting a don’t-even-start expression. “Alright, yes. I don’t want to let him in either, but I can’t leave him standing outside either.”
“Yes, yes you can.” Harley stated confidently.
“You could …?” Peter added questioningly, but Blaine wasn’t having any of it.
“Guys, we could at least hear him out.” He turned to his brothers sitting across the coffee table and added, “Isn’t that what heroes are supposed to do? Take both sides of the story into consideration?” He knew the hero card would have the desired effect on his brothers, or at least on Peter.
“Curly-”
“Dad!” Blaine intervened, but Tony intentionally ignored him and continued.
“-has a point. We could at least hear him out.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Peter slowly changed sides. Harley, however, remained skeptical.
“No, not after what he did.”
“Be he stopped, didn’t he?” Peter tried to convince his younger brother.
“Besides,” Blaine fell in, “he had no idea.” Harley knew he couldn’t argue with their logic, but his gut kept telling him not to let the man in. Weakly he said:
“But still …”
“Sir.” JARVIS said, “He is about to ring the bell. Are you in?”
“I’m here, aren’t I, J? When did I teach you to lie?” Tony tried to sound sarcastic but ended up sounding uncertain, still.
“You didn’t, Sir. I picked it up from the best.” JARVIS replied quickly, before continuing, “However you wish, Sir. Although if I may be so free as to state my opinion; I think we should leave him to get drenched by the rain. Sir.” The IA added the ‘Sir’ after a short pause, emphasising his point of view by sounding like a disagreeing teenager.
“Alright,” Tony started firmly, more to convince himself than any of the other people in the room, “Blaine is right. So, we will hear what he has to say.” Harley made an unappreciative snorting sound and JARVIS’s speakers somehow produced some static noises despite being programmed flawlessly. Tony continued nonetheless. “Without out loud judging or intervening. Heaven knows I don’t want him in here either, but he must have a good reason for showing up.” Blaine smiled proudly at his father before standing up and walking around the coffee table to plant himself between his brothers on the couch. On the way he stopped for a moment to softly squeeze his father’s shoulder, promising him that his boys weren’t going anywhere.
“Sir. He is now stepping in the elevator.” JARVIS announced and quickly added, “I still think you shouldn’t let that disgrace of a hum-”
“Mute Jarvis. Unless you have something nice or important to say.” There was a short moment of static noise again before a heavy silence fell over the top of Stark Tower.
Dean had no idea what to expect when he approached Stark Tower. He jumped at the sound of the disembodied voice, which somehow managed to sound angry, disappointed, and protective at the same time.
“You’re here to see Mr Stark, I assume.” JARVIS asked. If he could the IA would have laughed at Deans reaction. The man tried to contain his surprise and, while looking around to figure out where the voice came from, answered:
“Yes, I am.”
“He’s in the living room. I suggest you take the elevator.” JARVIS advised coldly.
“Okay. Th- thank you.” Dean said, still confused about the voice.
The elevator doors closed the moment Dean set foot in the elevator, a bit too close for comfort if you asked Dean. When they opened again, barely half a minute later, Dean was met with four pairs of eyes staring at him. Three pairs from the couch and one pair from Tony, standing by the elevator to welcome Dean. So far, Dean had seen Tony wear quite a few different outfits. Fancy three-piece suits, casual jeans and a shirt, a swimming trunk. There was this one time he dressed up as a drag queen for Halloween. And somehow there are photo’s circulating on the internet of Tony in nothing but a pink tutu. Not that Dean went looking for those pictures, it was just very hard to escape them sometimes … Anyway. He did not expect to see Tony in his pyjama’s. Or at least the purple and white striped pants and the old MIT shirt could easily be his pyjama’s, and his tousled hair didn’t do much to help his case, aside from proving that Blaine inherited his father’s curls. Looking at the boys on the couch Dean felt like he was intruding some important family time. Mainly because the boys were also dressed in what looked like pyjamas. Harley and Peter respectively wore Iron Man pants and Spiderman pants, both with a Stark Industries shirt, the first black, the second white. It took Dean a moment to recognise the third boy on the couch, the wild curls so different from the usual gelled back hair. He was wearing bright red pants with ‘McKinley High’ written on the right leg, and a black shirt that said ‘Hummel’ on the back with the number 3. And Dean had absolutely no idea what any of it meant. His eyes moved across the room and landed, again, on Tony’s face.
“Stark, I-” but Harley cut him off.
“You have some nerve showing up here.” An elbow to the side from Blaine combined with the look Tony shot him shut him up.
“Dean.” Tony said, “Coffee?”
“Please.”
“Have a seat.” Tony turned to the coffee table. “Jarvis? Run the coffee, will you?” Tony said to seemingly no one in particular. Dean jumped a little at the disembodied answer.
“Of course, Sir.” Tony was quite sure the only reason JARVIS answered was to make Dean uncomfortable, but he let it slide. Dean took a seat in one of the single chair, mainly so that no hostile son of Stark could plant themselves next to him. Tony stood next to the couch, looking a little lost in his own living room. Blaine saw his dad’s uneasiness.
“Dad, sit. I’ll do the coffee.” the oldest said while standing up.
When Blaine got back from the kitchen with the coffee nothing had changed aside from the fact his dad was now sitting between Peter and Harley on the couch. Blaine put the tray on the table and sat down on the ground with his back against the couch under Peters pulled up legs. The silent offensive sort of scared Dean. Four pair of eyes looking at him; two pair chocolate brown, one pair bright blue, and one pair hazel/greenish. Dean clears his throat but it’s Blaine who’s the first to say something.
“So, Dean. It’s Dean, right?” Dean nodded. “What exactly brings you to Stark Tower on this rainy Sunday afternoon.” The blue eyes told Dean to choose his next words very carefully.
“I- I came to apologise.”
“Apologise?” Peter repeated while Blaine shot Harley a triumphant look.
“Yes,” Dean continued, “apologise. And to figure out what exactly happened because it keeps repeating itself in my head.” Now that Tony thought of it, he should have expected it. Why else would Dean come to Stark Tower on a Sunday afternoon? Still, he was surprised by Dean’s words, but he remained stoic.
“It’s called PTSD induced anxiety disorder. I had an attack.” Tony said as if he was making a business transaction. He continued on a sarcastic note. “Who knew that being hauled to my feet by five huge guys and then roughly being carried to the pool with the promise of dumping me in head first would cause an attack like that, right? Especially with my background.” Tony’s remark rendered Dean speechless for a moment.
“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“We know you didn’t-” Blaine started, but he was cut off by Harley.
“Still not an excuse to dump someone in the pool though.”
“Harley.” Blaine shot a look up to his youngest brother, begging him to be silent. “We were going to let Mr Dean explain, remember?”
“Fine.” Harley grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting a little.
“I mean,” Dean began, “yes, I wanted to irritate you, be a bit of a- of an ass maybe. But I never meant for something like that to happen. I’ve thrown people in the water before. By God, I even do it with my boy sometimes, he loves it. Point being, I really didn’t see any harm in it.” Blaine nodded understandingly, starting to see the man’s point of view, but Peter piped up with a very important question:
“But why continue when dad was unconscious, and when we started shouting?” Dean looked at his hands, fumbling with something that looked like a key.
“Well, I didn’t realise something was wrong until you,” he pointed at Blaine, “stood right in front of me. You see, I have this bad habit of not caring about anything else then my goal. My wife has told me it’s a problem more time then I can count on one hand.”
“And your henchmen?” Harley continued the semi-interrogation, “Or are they really that stupid?”
“Henchmen? No, they’re not stupid. They’re just very … How do I say this? Susceptible?” the four questioning looks across the coffee table told Dean he had to elaborate. “I have a- a gift. People do what I ask from them as long as I command them to do it.”
“A gift?” Harley repeated.
“A mutation.” Peter murmured under his breath, but Tony heard him.
“Peter, that’s brilliant!” Tony said, getting three surprised looks and a small smile from Peter. The meaningful look on Tony’s face told Dean enough, he had seen that look before and had run away without looking back. He shouldn’t have said that, he should have known that at least one of them was smart enough to unravel what he was saying. Granted, he didn’t expect that it would be Peter, but after the pool incident a few days ago the smallest boy didn’t really surprise him anymore.
“No …” It sounded more doubtful than Dean had intended, so he said it again, this time with more conviction. “No.” Blaine and Harley shared a confused look, neither knowing what Dean was talking about.
“There is nothing wrong with that, Dean.” Tony started, “Everybody is different, a mutation is just as biological as Harley’s blue eyes or B’s curly hair.” To support his statement, he ruffled his hand through Blaine’s un-gelled hair, secretly enjoying the soft mop of curls and once again thinking to himself that the amount of hair gel Blaine normally uses should be illegal. But Dean was restless. He put his half-empty cup on the table with more force than necessary, spilling a bit of coffee in the process, and abruptly stood up.
“I- I have to go.” With big steps the man made his way to the elevator.
“Yeah, of course.” Tony said, not wanting to force the man into anything and risk upsetting him even further. “But while you wait for the elevator let me find that pamphlet.” Tony directed his words partly at Dean, but mostly towards the ceiling. JARVIS understood what Tony wanted and responded with “Elevator coming up, Sir.” while everybody but Dean knew very well that the elevator never left the top floor of Stark Tower. Security measures made sure the elevator was always on the same floor as Tony, although he thought about changing that to accommodate the safety of his boys. Tony muttered to himself while rummaging through one of the bookshelves.
“It must be here somewhere.”
“There’s no need, really.” Dean said nervously, “I just remembered I have another appointment.”
“Of course.” Tony said.
“Dad? Do you mean this one?” Peter piped up, holding in the air a grey pamphlet with a beautiful castle on the front.
“Yes! That’s it, thanks Pete.” Tony all but ran across the room to get the piece of paper from Peter and give it to Dean. There was a moment of hesitation on Deans side and by the time his hand touched the paper the elevator doors sprung open. Dean rushed inside, the piece of paper in his hand forgotten, and barely refrained himself from frantically smashing the ground floor button. Right before the doors closed he said:
“I’m sorry about that day at the pool.” Tony’s “Thanks for apologising” was said to closed doors.
The four men sat themselves back on the couch, neither knowing what to say. All unaware of Dean, calm and composed, stepping out of the elevator when it reached the ground floor and chucking the pamphlet in the nearest bin before walking away briskly, hiding his face under his umbrella.