Archive of Our Own

Steve walks into Vision floating a few inches off of the floor of his bedroom, eyes closed and idle as if in deep thought. It feels nice to see the android after so long, and before Steve can dwell on the feeling of friendly familiarity, Vision's eyes snap open – clearly sensing Steve's presence in the doorway. 

"Captain," Vision greets. "What brings you by?" The android seems legitimately confused. 

"You knew we were coming today, didn't you?" Steve tries to mask his own confusion with a smile. In all fairness, he'd expected more of a reaction from Vision, but the android has also never been one for obvious displays of affection. Vision's face remains blank while Steve tries to lighten the mood. "And I'm not the only one who remembers our conversation about walls and boundaries, right?" 

"Perhaps you didn't understand my question, Captain," Vision starts, his words deliberately slower like Steve has some kind of trouble comprehending. "I was merely asking what brings you to my living quarters." 

Steve stops. 

Vision's living quarters? 

Steve was pretty sure he hadn't been away long enough to forget where his room was.

His lips part in slow realization when he finally takes in the interiors of the room – or well, lack of. For one thing, it's much bigger than what it had been, and it only takes a second for Steve to realize the wall separating his and Visions room had been broken down. 

The pictures he'd salvaged from his old life were no longer stuck on the wall above his bed. In fact, there was no bed at all. His wardrobe wasn't there either, nor was his desk. It was replaced by a white table with a single potted plant on it. 

That's the only thing in the room – a table and a potted plant. 

"Vision, this was my room," Steve says, the confusion still seeping in. Where was everything? 

"Yes," Vision agrees, looking around the room as well. "It was." 

"No– I meant– this is my room," Steve corrects impatiently, looking around the room once more before fixing Vision with a stern look. "Vision, where are my things?" 

"I'm sorry, Captain," Vision says, somehow managing to sound completely apologetic. "I don't know. The room was empty when it was given to me."

Steve purses his lips in annoyance, sighs, and then: "And when was that?"

"One week after you were labeled an international fugitive," Vision responds, and that's all the confirmation he needed. Stark owned the Compound, and this was him trying to take away everything he could from Steve without being forced to face the consequences. Stark had initiated the fight, all he had to do was make the single move that had things falling into place like dominoes until Steve and the team were labelled fugitives. It was all the reason Stark would need to kick him out of his home, going back to his 'I don't condone terrorism' belief when the man only says that when it works in his convenience. Stark hadn't even hesitated to create a weapon like Ultron, and yet, belittles Wanda by calling her a weapon of mass destruction. 

"Stark did this, then," Steve says.

"That is not what I said, Captain," Vision replies, a small shake of his head. "Mr. Stark had no role in this. The Compound is under the Accords Committee. You'd be more inclined to blame them." 

Steve resists the urge to just snap at Vision's naivety. The android had always felt a sense of loyalty towards Stark – misplaced loyalty at best – because Vision was only created to try to fix his mistake with Ultron. Try to avoid the consequences before they could come for him. Vision was created to be Stark's get out jail free card, and it was wrong that Vision couldn't see it. 

"The Compound is under the Accords Committee because Stark allowed it to be," Steve clarifies, his words careful and sharp. "Am I wrong?" 

"You are not wrong, but you are also far from right," Vision says, which throws Steve into another world of confusion. "There is more to the situation than you are aware of." 

"Yeah, well," Steve grits out, turning around and heading for the door. It would be wrong of him to lash out at Vision when the one directly responsible for the anger was lounging somewhere in the Compound. "Leave it to Stark to complicate a situation any more than he has to." 

═════════════

The first thing Wanda notices is that someone's on her bed. The second thing that she notices – or, well, realizes – is that she can't get into his mind. The guy seems oddly unconcerned at her presence, and Wanda finds it hard to believe that he hasn't noticed her entering the room. 

"Who are you?"

The guy doesn't look up from his book, flipping a page as if to emphasize the fact that he couldn't care less about her. "Do you people not follow the custom of knocking?"

"Not when there is an intruder in my room," Wanda snaps, once again trying to reach into his mind. The attempt gets blocked, and for a brief second, she wonders if he's like Vision. "Now, who are you?"

"Your room?" The guy finally looks up; sharp green eyes fixated on her. "I think you are mistaken." A patronizing smile forms on his face, as if he's speaking to a child. "Do you see any of your possessions in this room?"

Wanda takes a quick scan around the room – her things are nowhere to be seen. There's a different wardrobe, a different desk, different curtains and a different bed. She had photos of her family, of Pietro– 

A spike of anger flares up in her, and she can feel her magic swirling within. "What did you do to my things?" 

"If I had any control over them, they would have been set alight," the guy says looking down at his book without a care in the world. It only makes her angrier. "Unfortunately, I did not."

"You burned my things?!" A stream of magic shoots out to close the door behind her. The guy looks up, a flicker of annoyance in his face. 

"Witch," he says, and her title comes out in a hiss. Like an insult. "Do you not listen? I said 'if'," He clarifies sharply, his eyes almost an acidic green now. He glares at her for a while before motioning to the door. "You are becoming an inconvenience; please leave." 

But Wanda doesn't give in that easily. If she's not getting her room, she needs to get something else. "Tell me who you are." 

He blinks, looking genuinely confused for a moment. "Oh, you were serious? I assumed you were joking." He smiles – the grin so wide that it seems to show all his teeth. It's strangely unsettling. "I'm Loki. You might remember me from an attack on New York not very long ago." 

The name clicks something in her mind. It was his sceptre that gave him her powers. His sceptre that they tortured and experimented on her with. She feels her magic ooze out of her in equal amounts of panic and rage. "What are you doing here?"

Loki's eyes flick down to her hands, before blankly settling back on her face. "You cannot be threatening me with bad dreams." 

She smiles – a smile that's all but manic. Her magic is consuming, spilling, overpowering. "It's much worse." 

The shrugs, flapping his book shut before putting it aside. He looks eerily calm. "Let's see it then." 

Wanda doesn't hesitate. Red spills out of her hands in waves, pushing and pushing until she feels light again. Until the anger simmers. She comes out of her daze to see Loki sitting idle, completely unaffected with a mocking smile schooled on his face. 

"I would give that a one on a scale of twenty." 

Fear creeps up in her and s finds herself taking a step back in reflex. "You shouldn't have been able to do that."

Loki disappears from the bed, and it doesn't even register before she finds herself pushed against the wall. There's something constricting her throat, and the pressure tightens as she no longer feels her feet on the ground. Loki appears in front of her with a shimmer of green, a Cheshire-like smile on his face. His hand tightens on her throat and she can't breathe– can't feel the floor– 

Loki's eyes are sharp and cold. " You shouldn't have done it at all."

The next instant, she's dropped. Her feet are back on the floor, oxygen filling her airways and Loki's back on the bed. The book is open on his lap, like he hadn't even stopped reading at all. It's the first time her powers have been challenged in this magnitude, the first time her powers have failed her against a threat and she suddenly feels so small. Weak. 

A child. 

"Now quit your bickering and leave my room," he says, and it's casual, but Wanda hears the threat. She has to leave– needs to, but– 

"This is my room," she insists over heavy breathing. "My home. I live here." 

Loki looks up. "I was under the impression you threw The Vision down quite a few floors just to leave this home you are suddenly so protective of."

"Things change."

Loki hums. "And so do rooms." He shifts his attention back to his book. "I'm sure you know where the door is." 

═════════════

"I know you." The kid in the red-black mask turns to look at Clint; head cocked up from where it was previously lying flat on the bed. There's a television suspended from the ceiling with some ridiculously strong spiderwebs, the screen showing a paused video game. The kid is quick to drop his gaming controller while he scurries to a standing position. 

"Hi! Yes. I'm Spiderman. You're Mr. Barton. Sorry, we haven't met but we did kinda cross paths in Germany," he rattles quickly and then rushes forward to stick a hand out. "Uh, nice to meet you! Officially, I mean." 

Clint does a small shake of his hand while eyeing the boy curiously. "Don't think you're supposed to wear a mask." 

"Oh!" The boy exclaims like he'd forgotten it was there in the first place. A hand reaches up to feel his mask before he drops the hand. "That. I'm a minor. I don't have to reveal myself until I'm 18." The boy does a fist pump in the air like a damn cartoon. Not that he looks far from one in the first place. "Loophole!" 

Great. The kid's not even 18 and he all but jumped in to fight them in Germany. 

"How do you breathe in there?" Clint asks, and the boy responds with a deep inhale and an exhale. 

"Like that," he answers. "Mr Stark made it easier, you know, considering." The boy waves a hand like he expects Clint to know what he's talking about.

"Right," Clint states. "What are you doing in my room?" 

The boy's head jerks back in surprise. "Sorry? Um." He looks around. "This is my room. I got my stuff in here." As if to emphasize, he points up. "That's my TV hanging from the ceiling." 

"Yeah, I saw that." Clint glances up at the TV, still wondering how the hell it's balanced like that. "But this isn't your room." 

"Yes, it is," the boy says. "They gave it to me." 

Clint raises an eyebrow. "Who's they?" 

Who the hell gave this kid a room in the Compound? 

"I mean, there's a bunch of them – there's the old guy in a suit, then there's the other two guys in a suit, and that one lady–"

Clint interrupts him midway, stopping the boy from going on to his next ramble. "Kid, what? " 

The boy stops. Breathes. "They gave me this room after you left, I think?" He cocks his head, and then does a quick scan around the room. "I mean, it was empty when I got here." 

The way that Clint's face changed at that moment must have been almost comical, because what the– "Where the hell are my things?" 

"Sorry Mr. Barton, wish I knew," the boy shrugs. "You should probably ask one of the suit guys." 

"Yeah," Clint mutters under his breath, a single name flashing in his mind. "I know a suit guy who owes me an answer."  

═════════════

"Anthony," Loki says, popping out of fucking nowhere and grinning in the tight space between Tony and the open fridge – effectively making Tony jerk back and drop his eggs.

Tony was this close to a hemorrhage. On the other hand, he's also never getting used to this. 

"Jesus. Lokes," Tony breathes out, sad eyes falling to the leaking egg carton on the floor. 

Loki looks down. Cocks his head to the side before he looks back up to Tony. "Would it help to know they didn't feel pain?" 

"What did you say?" Tony makes an act of bringing a hand to his ear. "I can't hear very well over the sound of hunger."

Loki smiles, shaking his head fondly. Tony doesn't even get to dwell on the picture of that gorgeous face before it immediately hardens. "What are you doing here?"

The implication of Loki's question is obvious. It's the fact that Loki knows Tony's been dreading today like the damn plague. That he had to interact with his father's prized creation that nearly killed Tony and left him for dead, and that he had to interact with an anger-fueled witch who's taken a physical and mental toll on him. Which is exactly why Tony goes for a lame attempt at a joke. "The plan was to make eggs–" 

"The Witch is in the Compound, and you're making eggs? " Forget the first half of the sentence; Tony takes personal offense to Loki insulting the only thing he can cook moderately well. Loki brings a hand up to Tony's hair, fingers threading through knots as they softly trail down and his hand reaches the base of Tony's neck, thumb resting at the crook of his jaw. Bright green eyes are filled with concern. "She violated your mind once. She will do it again."

Tony tilts his head to press a kiss against Loki's inner wrist. "Lucky that I have you then, don't I?" Tony asks, and Loki's face actually softens. 

"What if I hadn't been here?" 

"Unlikely," Tony points out. "You're a stubborn son of a bitch who refuses to leave my side." 

Loki takes a step forward, pulling them closer until their noses are a hair 's-width apart. Loki's hand moves from the back of his neck until his thumb can graze over Tony's lips. 

"That's called love, dear Anthony," Loki says, closing the distance by pressing his lips against Tony's and Jesus Christ. How does Tony end up feeling like a damn teenager every time this happens? His brain becomes a muddled mess, his heart just a lump of mush and all he can feel is Loki's lips and his hands and– 

Loki breaks away with an annoyed look on his face. He takes a few steps away and before Tony can even ask why Karma appears in the shape of Captain America. 

"Stark–" Steve starts. A month since they've seen each other and the first thing Tony gets is an annoyed Steve. Some things never grow old. Pun intended. Steve trails off seeing Loki who's suddenly placed himself several feet away from Tony, acting like they hadn't just been kissing like teenagers two seconds ago. Steve stops, does a double-take, and then: "Loki?! " Steve's eyes flick to Tony's for not even a second before it's back on Loki, who's looking at Steve with some amused interest. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"Language, Cap," Tony corrects. There's a moment where Steve just stares at Tony, like he just realized that Tony was quoting him from not so long ago, until something literally clicks in Steve's face.

"Tony, he's in your head," is apparently what clicked. Tony resists the urge to laugh, but he sees the way Loki shoots a concerned glance in his direction.  

"Not in my head," Tony offers, although his words lack any kind of weight. "But he's definitely been in some other parts." The last part is muttered under his breath just in case Steve hears him and gets the super-soldier version of an aneurysm. Loki hears it though, and his lips stretch into a smile. Steve, however, misunderstands the smile. Steve now thinks Tony's actually compromised. 

"Loki, don't force us to attack," Steve says. "Get away from Stark." 

Tony knows before Loki even does anything that it was the wrong thing to say. Loki disappears from where he was standing an awkward six feet away from Tony, only to show up in front of Steve. Just far enough to not be one of Steve's punching bags. Not that it would hurt Loki, but it would be annoying. Tony can hear Loki's grin. "Is this ideal?" 

Loki's standing right in front of Steve and blocking Tony's view of the soldier, but Steve, surprisingly, is holding his ground. "What, back for a second round?" 

"Relax," Tony butts in before Steve goes Siberia on Loki all over again. Because Steve would end up dead. Pulling a Captain-America sized body out of the Compound in a body bag would probably not be a good thing for their revamped image. "We're all on the same side here." He shoots a wary glance at Steve. "More or less." 

"Same side?" Steve echoes, anger building in his words. Loki steps aside to give Tony a direct view of Steve, apparently letting the mortals bicker. "Stark, are you insane? Loki attacked New York."

"First of all, he was under mind control–"

"He killed people," Steve cuts in impatiently. "Indirectly killed a hundred others. Mind control isn't an excuse to–" Steve cuts off, apparently realizing the trap he'd conveniently waltzed himself into. 

Tony cocks his head, wide-eyed and innocent. "What were you saying, Cap?" 

Steve recovers from his gaping-fish look. The frown is back on his face. "He killed innocent people. He killed Coulson , even tried to-" 

"Uh, yeah. That argument is void," Tony interrupts. "Phil Coulson is alive."

"Phil's alive ?" Steve echoes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What can I say, secrets are a bitch." 

Steve's face actually twitches in annoyance. "Tony–" There's a sound of a gunshot that cuts him off, and at a speed that should be impossible, Loki's hand flies up in front of his face, a single bullet held in between his thumb and index finger. Five more follow in repeated rhythm, and Loki's hand is a blur as he catches each and every single one of them. 

'That's my boyfriend!' is what Tony wants to yell at the sight of Loki not even breaking a sweat at five fatal (probably not for him) head-shots. Self-preservation prevents him from doing it. 

"Goddammit," comes a sharp hiss from the direction of shots, and the owner of the voice soon comes into view. Clint is still aiming a gun at Loki, Wanda right alongside him, but if Clint's goddammit was anything to go by, he was one or two bullets away from running out of bullets. Clint's not giving anybody the satisfaction of thinking that. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?" 

"Barton, stand down," Tony says. "Please, you're embarrassing yourself." 

Clint's eyes don't even shift from Loki. "Stark, it's Loki," he spits the name like a curse. "He made me his goddamn mind-slave, killed Coulson–"

"No, he didn't," Tony sighs under his breath. 

"–threw you out of your damn tower–" 

"Yeah, that was uncalled for."

"–and you're defending the guy?" In the blink of an eye, the gun is aimed at Tony. Oh, for heaven's sake. Clint is glaring daggers, his expression nothing but determined. "You're compromised."

The son of a bitch sure as hell looks sure of the fact too. 

"I'm not," Tony says shortly. "He's an Avenger. Lives here actually." 

"In my room, " Wanda adds, the last word escaping her mouth like toxin. 

"In what was your room," Loki corrects just a second before Tony can. By the strange expression on Wanda's face while looking at Loki, Tony's gonna go out on a limb and assume she knows her place around Tony's boyfriend. 

"Stark," Steve says, voice all prerogative like he thinks he is. "You don't have the authority to make Loki an Avenger. He's a known enemy of the Avengers and the rest of the world. You can't just–" 

"Hold on," Tony cuts him off. "Lokes, did you hear that? That I don't have the authority?" 

"I did, unfortunately," Loki answers the same time Clint echoes with a baffled 'Lokes?' 

"Remind me again, not for me of course, how you became an Avenger?" 

"I was pardoned for my crimes against New York because of a compromised mental state. Your boring panel of the Accords Committee granted me the status of an Avenger. Does that help, my dear?" Loki asks with a saccharine smile on his face that is undoubtedly draining the patience out of Steve and his sidekicks. 

"Tons, thank you," Tony answers quickly before turning to Steve, fully intending to unleash hell after giving Steve one last chance to take back his words. Tony's nice and selfless like that. 

"And you let this happen?" Steve asks, disbelief clear on his face. "You let him on the same team as Clint who's still recovering from Loki's hold on him? What were you thinking?"

"You're right. How could I let this happen?" Tony tilts his head in mock thought, and then: "I'll tell ya. The same way you let it happen." Steve has the gall to look offended. "The same way Clint, who's apparently recovering from severe mind-manipulation, granted Entitled Matilda over here the status of an Avenger. Remind me once again what she'd been doing before that? She single-handedly unleashed the Hulk upon innocent civilians, mind-manipulated Natasha, Thor and I into reliving our worst nightmares for the thrill of it." 

"She realized her mistake," Steve defends. "The moment she realized Ultron's intentions she wanted to help us. We all have dark clouds lining our past, and we've corrected it. Bringing it up only tears the team apart."

"Okay, maybe she did," Tony agrees, dropping Wanda for the moment because Steve gave him a better direction to head into. "Speaking of bringing up dark clouds lining our past, how many times have you used my history with weapons manufacturing against me? How many times have you incessantly chided me for 'not following' the plan of action, when I only followed in the footsteps of your picture-perfect Howard Stark's weapon business and ended up being the very person you hated?" 

Steve, like Tony had expected, has no response to that. 

"So, what?" Clint asks, coming to the defense. "You haven't done a single thing wrong after quitting weapons? You created Ultron. We're in this goddamn mess because of you and your crazed obsession with a suit of armor around the world." 

"I created Ultron, fine." Tony throws his hands in the air. "Bruce and I were the brains of the operation, Wanda's mind-manipulation of reliving your deaths was just the push I needed right? My fear helped create Ultron." He pauses, takes a breath because goddammit if this wasn't exhausting and exciting at the same time. "You know what else I've also helped create that the rest of you were all too eager to jump on? The goddamn Helicarriers, the quinjets," Tony points a finger at Steve. "–One of which you used to escape with the guy who murdered my parents– JARVIS, Vision, Veronica – remember when someone mind-manipulated Hulk on a vicious rampage and dear Veronica came to the rescue?" Tony turns to Clint. "Your damn arrows, and all of your gears. Literally. "

Tony takes his time to register the pure expressions of discomfort on their faces, and the absolute look of glee on Loki's. "Anybody see those things come alive with a mission to wipe out humanity?" 

"Your weapons operated with the mission to wipe out humanity," Wanda grits out. "Your weapons killed my parents, my brother – you took my humanity away." 

"Are you– Are you serious?" Tony asks, and waits. Wanda continues to glare at him. "My weapons were sold to the US government. And with all due respect to your brother, Ultron killed him. You manipulated me into creating Ultron, expecting me to consume myself with fear, and now you're upset with the consequences? Our job is to face the consequences of every mistake we make. Every mistake we make is a life lost. The mistake you made lost you your brother." 

Clint takes a step forward in defense. Pietro had sacrificed his life for Clint after all, it makes sense he'd be quick to respond. "Stark, you're treading on dangerous territory." 

"It wouldn't do you well to threaten someone under my care," Loki points out easily, like he wasn't just threatening to snap Clint's neck with a flick of his wrist. Not that Loki's done it ever, but Tony wouldn't be averse to seeing it happen. Not with Clint, of course. Maybe a mannequin.  

"Under his care?" Steve catches on to Loki's words after realizing Tony made no attempt to correct Loki. "Tony, you're still siding with this guy? He's the reason the nuke was launched, he's the reason you flew through the wormhole and came out a different man. Tell me the visions still don't haunt you. Tell me you're over what happened when you went through the wormhole." 

Loki's eyes snap to him, equal amounts of shock and fear swirling in them. Fear that it was true, because Tony still hadn't said anything to rebuke it. 

Fuck. This was not when Loki was supposed to find out. 

The god's chin does a little quiver, and Loki suddenly looks so broken and guilty. 

"They do," Tony says, and he can't bear to look at Loki when he answers. Can't look at Loki when he's looking at Tony like that. "But that's not on him. It was my choice to make. Because if I hadn't made that choice, New York would have been a wasteland and your bodies would have been nothing but dust. So if nightmares are all I get for saving 8 million people, then I won't hesitate." 

"Those same nightmares nearly wiped out all of humanity," Steve says, softly, like he's trying to be understanding but patronizing at the same time. Loki's eyes are just piercing through Tony at this point. Fucking Steve and his urge to ruin Tony's so-far so-great relationship. 

"But it didn't, did it?" Tony shoots back. "Because again, I helped create Vision who was just as powerful as Ultron, if not more. That's how we defeated Ultron. Not because Matilda had a change of heart when she realized her life was at risk." 

"Tony Stark taking credit for a combined victory?" Clint scoffs. "Get your head out of your ass, Stark. We all helped take Ultron down." 

"I distinctly remember saying we defeated Ultron," Tony corrects impatiently. He is not going to come out of this with a sane mind. "Not I defeated Ultron, or Vision defeated Ultron." 

"Can't blame me for assuming everything revolves around you."

Tony wants to pull his hair out. Literally. "You are making everything about me. I wasn't even supposed be a part of your stupid boyband, and yet, every time something happens, you're looking for a Tony Stark sized mat to rub your dirty shoes on." 

"How could you think that?" Steve asks. "Tony, how could you even say that?" 

"Because it's the goddamn truth, Rogers!" Tony very nearly yells. He's about had it. "You blamed me for the Avengers being torn apart when it was your pathetic journey of discovery with your assassin buddy that started this entire thing in the first place!" 

"Don't bring Bucky into this," Steve says. 

"Barnes is already neck-deep in this," Tony quips. "It's pretty hard to leave him out really."

"Tony, I keep telling you this. It wasn't Bucky. Hydra was controlling him."

"Hydra wasn't controlling you, were they?" Tony asks, raising an eyebrow. Steve stares at him, lips pursed. "Were they?!" 

"No," is all Steve says. Is all that he can say. 

"So it was with your own free will that made you think you were entitled to keep your friend's dirty secrets to yourself. Because you wanted to protect yourself. Because one man's crime under mind control can be forgiven if he's Bucky Barnes or Clint Barton, but certainly not if it's Tony Stark or Loki. Is that it?" Tony asks. "You leak hypocrisy, Rogers." 

"You're twisting things out of control, Tony," Steve says, his attempts to salvage their long lost friendship failing miserably. "The circumstances were different." 

"No, they were not, " Tony snaps. He's had enough of this. He's had more than enough of this, and now he's just tired and Loki's still looking at him and– "But they are now." He breathes, pulling up the fakest, paparazzi smile he could muster. "We didn't get to why your rooms have been occupied." 

"Finally," Clint mutters. 

"The rooms are reserved for the core Avengers team," Tony says. "The three of you, along with Sam, Scott and Natasha have been demoted to trainees, considering the reckless actions you've engaged in and the load mess you've dumped on everyone else's heads." 

"What the hell?" Clint jumps in. "You can't demote us; we are the core team." 

"Are you not listening to me? You were," Tony corrects and then sighs. "Anyway, before another dumb question gets thrown my way, your things are in one of the lower floor rooms. Dunno which one. I lost track, really. Cause you know, I'm selfish and my heads up my own ass."

"Tony, this is unfair," Steve says, and god he's actually pleading. "We have experience on the field. The world expects us to protect them." 

"Don't worry about expectations. You broke your chance of living up to them," Tony waves a hand before heading to the group that's currently blocking his way out. "Now, I'm just gonna make my way through. Gotta buy some eggs from the market. Lokes, dear, you coming?"