Chapter Text
Tony's mother kept photo albums in her room, neatly numbered and carefully ordered, fat with evidence.
Tony rolled his eyes every time she brought one out, and he was very sure he remembered his father wincing once or twice.
"Now, Howard," she would say, smiling wickedly, "I don't want to have to do this –"
"Lies, Maria," his father would mutter under his breath, all exasperated affection.
"– but you've been in that workshop for the past three days, it's time you got out and had a little fun."
"I'm a busy man!"
"Howard."
"Maria!"
Tony would always have to stifle laughter at that part. Sometimes he would encourage his father to take his mother out on expensive dates, sometimes he'd goad his mother into opening the album and going through every picture in excruciating detail to watch his father cringe in horror – "Oh, and look at this one, how sweet you both look, though really, Howie, couldn't you have scrubbed that oil off your face any better, tsk, you stained the pillow. The only reason I wasn't angrier with you was because oh, you two are so adorable! Look at your hand in Tony's hair, how sweet you are!"
Recitations like that would get a "Maria, no, Maria, stop, what do you want, diamonds, I'll get you diamonds, I'll take you dancing –"
"There's no reason to be ashamed about being affectionate with your son, Howard."
Evidently there was, because his father had insisted upon those albums having more security than his mother's jewellery if she was going to keep making them.
He'd threatened to burn them once and only once. It prompted the biggest fight of their marital lives that Tony knew of – he was half-convinced they were going to divorce and kept sending Jarvis frantic notes from boarding school asking if Maria had thrown Howard's clothes out on the lawn yet, he had it on good authority that was the final straw in such cases.
He'd come back for Christmas to find the household still frigid with his mother's anger, his father hiding in his workshop.
Jarvis confided that he had expected Mister Stark to yield weeks ago but he suspected it was now considered a matter of pride not to, and that Mrs. Stark refused take any apology prompted by alcohol. Which meant that Howard had at least tried, Tony supposed, which was more than could usually be said when he was in the wrong.
Tony had gone to bed wondering if he was going to end the week with his mother giving his father divorce papers with 'threatened to burn my photo albums of evidence of him actually giving a damn about his son' listed as the cause under the Christmas tree.
He'd woken up to his father crawling into his bed, cuddling close to pet his hair, murmuring affectionate things he'd sooner cut his hand off than say in broad daylight, and he didn't even smell of alcohol. At boarding school Tony had started to consider saying he was getting too old to indulge his father's attempts at affection, but now that he was home…
Well it was weird, he guessed, from what he could gather from listening in to the other kids at school... but it was nice to know his father cared and for as long as Tony could remember the only time and only way Howard would show it would be when he joined Tony in sleep. It was 'their thing', as his mother called it. Okay, from the outside it probably looked odd and it might have been why that one maid only lasted a week into the summer vacation, but he liked the way his father would hold him, the sort of hugs he never got in daylight, and he always sounded so proud of Tony. If Tony had to feign sleep to get that, fine.
There had been a soft shutter click and Howard had rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a thump.
Tony had watched him chase a giggling Maria out of the room and then gone to find Jarvis and tell him he didn't think they were going to divorce after all and did he think they'd let him have some champagne to celebrate?
When his parents had died he'd gone through the photo albums, devouring the naked affection so often visible on his father's face, reminding himself – he did love me, he did, he did, he was absolute shit at showing it, and maybe I was a disappointment and he didn't like me, but he loved me.
After the funeral he'd boxed them all up and forgotten about them for years.
He remembered them when he returned to the old mansion to check everything after the attack on New York, struck by a sudden fierce desire to remember something good – had he really forgotten the things his dad would say, holding him at night? That he was proud, that Tony was clever, that he just knew Tony was going to change the world in ways he couldn't even dream of? So he couldn't bring himself to say them at any other time, it didn't mean he hadn't meant them when he did.
(Maybe. Possibly. He really wished his brain liked him more and wouldn't give him excuses like 'oh, but if he did, why couldn't he say it to your face? Why always with you 'asleep'? Because he was imagining the son he always wanted, not the one he had?')
The team had been joking about a lack of any childhood photos that didn't come from a magazine and if nothing else, Cap would probably like seeing Howard as a family man. He decided to pick out a few of the less embarrassing ones, see if he could get that smile Steve had for things that reminded him of good times in the forties.
He had the box sent to the Tower, made a note to ask JARVIS about digitalizing his mother's photos, and continued checking all the old haunts.
He regretted that somewhat when JARVIS told him Clint had taken an arrowhead to the packing tape and opened the box. Apparently his scream of 'blackmail jackpot!' at the top of his lungs when he saw the first cracked leather album cover had brought the rest of the Avengers in – not running, but more 'a curious saunter, Sir'.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you guys about personal property?" Tony said, making sure to keep his hands in his pockets as he strolled into the room, not concerned at all, nope.
He was a bit surprised by the looks on their faces over the one open album – much guiltier than he expected; weirdly sympathetic, almost.
"I see you found mom's 'albums of evidence'," he said, and that made them look even more concerned, even as he rolled his eyes a little from sheer habit at the sight of the faded covers.
"Tony," Steve started and then glanced at everyone else as if begging one of them to start first.
Tony frowned, bemused. Admittedly childhood photos weren't very interesting to anyone but the family involved but he didn't think the uncomfortable response going on was quite normal.
"Evidence of you being scared a lot?" Clint teased, but his eyes looked bizarrely intent. "How old are you in some of these, and still sleeping in daddy's bed?"
Tony scowled instantly, desperately hoping he wasn't blushing as fiercely as he felt like he was. "Hey, I didn't have to do anything; it was usually him coming to my room to sleep with me."
The silence became charged and Tony had a moment of 'oh' as he realized what he'd just said. "That's not what I meant," he said quickly. "I mean, it's what happened, but saying it like that makes it sound –"
"Like what it was?" Natasha said, raising an eyebrow.
"'What it' – no! It wasn't anything like what you're thinking! It was just –" he flailed a bit, trying to grasp how to explain it properly. "It was just – our thing. He liked to sleep with me – just sleep! Mom took photos because she knew threatening to send one to the Board or whatever would get him out of the workshop and take her dancing or dinner or whatever. She thought it was cute."
"Cute," Bruce said flatly.
"Yeah," Tony said easily, choosing to ignore the ominous rumble in Bruce's voice. "She didn't really get why he only felt he could be affectionate with one of us asleep, so she'd take pictures every time she found us together. She teased him about it, it was loads of fun."
"Excuse me," Bruce said, shooting to his feet and walking out of the room. Tony frowned after him, confused, because what?
"Tony," Steve said gently. "I – you know I was friends with Howard."
"Yeah, so?" Tony said, seriously tempted to go 'well, duh'. Howard had been ridiculous about Captain America, it was common knowledge. People made not-quite jokes about it in all the documentaries and retrospectives.
"I was friends with Howard, but this is... if I'd known he would –"
"Would what?" Tony said. "Cuddle me in my sleep? Come on, Cap, it's no big deal."
"It is!" Steve protested loudly, sounding upset, as if Tony was the one not understanding anything.
"No it – Thor – hey, Thor, you had the closest thing to a happy childhood here, tell him there's nothing wrong."
Thor looked up from the photo he was studying – Tony winced a little inside, it was one of his mother's old favorites, Howard holding him tight, fast asleep with his lips still pressed to Tony's forehead – and his eyes were truly ancient in a way Tony had never seen them before.
"A child knows right and wrong by his father's words, Tony Stark. Yours has misled you, I fear."
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. "Damn it. We are not talking about this."
"You should talk about it," Natasha said, and was that sympathy in her voice? "SHIELD has a considerable psych department for a reason, Stark."
"I wasn't abused!" Tony howled. "Seriously! I know some of them - a lot of them - I know it looks weird –"
"It looks messed up," Clint said bluntly, "But hey, you're not ready to talk, you're not ready to talk. It's cool."
"Thank you," Tony said, before he had time to work out he was tacitly agreeing with Clint's assessment. "No, wait – fuck it, gimme my mom's photo albums."
The speed with which the box was shoved towards him was a little insulting, frankly. Tony heaved it into his arms and glared at everyone. "We're not talking about this ever again," he said firmly. "Got it?"
He could practically see Clint and Natasha sharing brain waves with their little glance at each other, trying to work out if they should tell SHIELD or not. At least Thor nodded instantly, even if it was a bit worrying how Mjölnir hummed at his side.
"Got it?"
"Okay, Tony," Steve said, ever the leader. "You don't want to talk about it, we won't, okay? But if –"
"Nope," Tony said.
"If you ever –"
"Nope," Tony repeated, even louder, turning on his heel and stalking out. Seriously, if he'd known they'd get this weird about it, he'd never have given in to the teasing about his lack of childhood photos.