Chapter Text
The horror of the void, a swarm of unfathomable magnitude. A lurch in his chest and then, breathlessness, before the grainy image of Pepper dissolved into darkness—
The roar reverberated through him, flooding his veins and rattling his bones. Tony gasped as his eyes opened and his body shuddered before it began to swallow down air, adjusting to the sting in his lungs, to the blood pumping through him, to the bright blue sky—
Rogers’ face appeared above him, blocking out the blue—and was that relief in his eyes?
Perhaps the portviews of the dead HUD were still malfunctioning.
Tony had no time to examine the anomaly further as Rogers reached for his faceplate. On instinct, Tony grabbed his wrist, halting it inches from his face.
“Sorry, just—give me a second, yeah? M’fine.” His own raspy voice bounced around in the helmet. “You gotta take me to dinner before you start undressing me, Cap.”
When Tony let go, Rogers pulled away and Tony spent the next few seconds waiting for his vision to adjust, letting the image of Captain America smiling at him come into focus.
Not an unwelcome sight, sure, but what a jarring contrast to the sneers and disdain and jibes he hurled at Tony Stark only hours ago on the Hellicarrier.
This smile was almost endearing and Tony almost let his hackles back down until Rogers reached for him once again.
He wouldn’t have seen Tony’s flinch, would’ve been oblivious to Tony’s spiking heart rate, all of which, of course, were an overreaction to the good Captain simply placing his hand between the suit’s shoulder blades to help Tony sit up.
Tony smothered his groans and hoped sitting up wouldn’t rearrange any of his bruised internal organs much further.
He tried to swallow another groan when his ribs protested, but he couldn’t let slip he was injured. Steve Rogers, ever the Good Samaritan, would rip the suit right off him, protests be damned, just to make sure Tony wasn’t dying in there.
Tony certainly couldn’t have that.
He tried to will the HUD back to life, but the screens remained dark despite several attempts at command inputs. Something about outer space clearly didn’t agree with his tech and the haunting images that still lingered at the forefront of his mind meant he’d be spending many sleepless nights in the workshop fixating on—and fixing—this very issue, but those lonesome nights would have to wait a little longer.
Tony glanced around, saw Thor nearby, then the Hulk—who must’ve been the one to save him from the fall—although now Big Green seemed more entertained by the rubble than by the guy whose life he just saved. Miss Romanoff and Barton supported each other as they limped over until Barton collapsed against a destroyed wall with a groan and a curse. Natasha remained standing, suit singed and ripped, her face marred with blood she was attempting to wipe away, but her eyes were on Tony.
“Everyone alright? Iron Man? Is he—”
“M’fine, still kicking.” He waved a hand at her. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”
It was odd to hear a peal of tired laughter from her, Tony decided. Almost as odd as seeing Rogers still smiling and patting Tony’s metallic back.
“Still, that was quite a tumble. Take it easy for a second.”
“Yeah, yeah. While I do, anyone care to tell me what the hell happened?” The banter was nice, but Tony’s brain—and the rest of him—still struggled to catch up. He was in space, he was dying, he was plummeting—he was supposed to...
He was supposed to die out there, wasn’t he?
But no, here he was, back on Earth, surrounded by the Avengers watching him with concern.
“We won,” Rogers finally said and no matter their rough start, Tony couldn’t help but believe the conviction. No matter his feelings on Tony Stark, Steve Rogers fought alongside Iron Man without a second’s hesitation.
They fought well, in fact—and they won.
Tony let his head lull against his chest, tried to take a breath around the bruised ribs and gave himself a second before starting a new to-do list. He needed to check on Pepper and Rhodey, needed to check on J, then he would slink over to Medical—maybe—then repairs, press conferences, putting together relief and rescue efforts, throwing money at it all until Tony could sleep at night.
Maybe.
Some nights.
A small, whimsical part of Tony wanted to blurt out something about shawarma—he swore he saw a joint nearby and maybe it was still intact and food had always been his go-to comfort and it would’ve been meaningful to share a meal with this ragtag team of extraordinary individuals who just saved the whole world.
He even opened his mouth to say so—and shut it with a click of his teeth. He couldn’t simply ‘go eat’. No, not without taking off the suit and revealing the unsavory truth and he hadn’t spent all these years living a double life only to waste it all on the swell of warmth in his chest and a great plate of shawarma.
JARVIS chose that moment to reappear, screens and stats flaring back to life across Tony’s vision. J’s voice was ever controlled, but too tight, a sign he was worried about his reckless creator.
While JARVIS scanned both Tony and the suit for damages, fixing what he could from here, Tony allowed Rogers to help him the rest of the way up to stand on his own two feet.
With a pat on a meaty, American-bred shoulder, Tony told Rogers he better get going.
“Are you sure you’re ready to take off, Iron Man?”
“As ready as ever, Cap, and while I do hate to bail on a party early, I gotta check on Miss Potts and Mister Stark, make sure they’re both alright. You know, that day job I have when I’m not saving the world?”
“Right, right, of course. You’re their bodyguard.” Rogers said it as if he’d forgotten. “We’ll see you around though?”
Tony glanced at Rogers, then at Romanoff and Barton, Thor and Big Green. The wreckage left behind. His city and home, now in ruins.
There was a lot of work to be done, both for Tony Stark and for Iron Man, and despite his best efforts, this group of disasters somehow went and endeared themselves to him.
Well, to Iron Man, anyways.
None of these people particularly liked Tony Stark.
“I’m sure we’ll both be involved in the recovery efforts—and I’ll be in the same bright red suit. You can’t miss me! Now, since this has been an absolute pleasure, we should do it again some time. Preferably over drinks. Adios!”
As he flew off, he wondered what life would’ve been like, what this day would’ve been like, had he decided to throw caution to the wind all those years ago. What if he had taken Everhart’s tasty morsel of bait and laid bare his biggest secret to the whole world?
“Sir, it appears you have a visitor.”
“Who is it? Actually, no, don’t tell me, it doesn’t matter. Tell them I’m not around, J,” Tony muttered around the screws between his lips, twisting to solder a wire back into place. “I mean, really, what is it about ‘consulting hours every other Thursday’ do people not understand?”
“It is Thursday, Sir,” JARVIS deadpanned. “Two-thirty in the afternoon, in fact. And this visitor is very persistent.”
Tony frowned and spit the screws out. “Someone we know?”
“None other than Miss Rushman herself.”
That was enough to get Tony to put the soldering iron down. What did Natasha want with him? And here, at the Tower?
Maybe something happened, something that hadn’t yet made it to his and J’s radar, and she was looking for Iron Man.
“Ugh, alright, you better get the suit so we can entertain the lovely Widow—”
“If I may, Sir. She specifically requested you.”
“‘You’? What do you mean ‘you’?”
“She said she wanted to speak with Tony Stark. Last I checked, that was still you.”
Tony rolled his eyes before wriggling from underneath the suit’s chest cavity. He supposed it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that Natasha would need something from Tony Stark. After all, she and Steve did bring all of SHIELD—and one nasty terrorist organization—crumbling to the ground mere months ago.
Howard had never told Tony just how much trouble Steven Grant Rogers could make in a span of a single week, but Tony was impressed all the same. It was almost as much trouble as Tony could make and he would’ve been out there too, making trouble, fighting on whatever front Iron Man was needed, but for once, Fury reached out to him and not his better-liked, gold-titanium-alloyed alter ego.
They warned him of a trump card up their sleeve, a possibility of a massive data breach that would release all records of Hydra’s dealings to the world.
Unfortunately, a little stunt like that, no matter how effective at throwing the enemy off their game, also released vast amounts of information on the good guys—actual SHIELD agents who dedicated their lives to keeping people like Hydra from harming the rest of the world—and last Tony checked, Hydra was not the only terrorist group on the planet. There were plenty of other bad guys who would’ve pounced on the opportunity to tear into SHIELD’s most private files.
So it was Tony—and JARVIS and a handful of trusted colleagues around the world—who spent several sleepless nights keeping that information out of nefarious hands. It was a job tailor-made for Tony Stark, the reclusive billionaire tech genius, and it was good to be useful in any capacity at all, but at the same time, Tony still wished he could’ve been out there, fighting the bad guys as Iron Man alongside both Natasha and Steve.
Iron Man was the one who called himself an Avenger. He was the one who earned their trust and respect.
Tony Stark was mostly there to look pretty, pay for the damages, update their gear on the down-low, and bear everyone’s mistrust while another mask sat plastered across his face.
Tony swiped at his forehead, feeling sweaty and dirty and way underdressed. He wasn’t sure any of the Avengers had even seen him in anything other than a top-of-the-line three-piece suit, a pair of expensive loafers and colorful sunglasses to cover up anything his smirk and swagger couldn’t, and maybe that was another nice thing about being Iron Man. Despite having a literal mask over his face, Iron Man never had to wear any of Tony’s more metaphorical ones.
He sighed and pushed himself away from the workstation. There was no time to shower and make himself presentable, so to hell with it. Let Natasha see the grease in his hair and the sweaty, wrinkled shirt over the ever-present layer of underarmor that kept the light of the reactor well-hidden. Let her make whatever assumptions she wanted. Maybe now she could add even more suspected partying and too much booze to the defects list.
After all, who would suspect that the bags under his eyes were put there by dreams of endless voids and the far reaches of space?
Maybe Natasha had questions about the data, Tony posited to himself while trying to wipe away the worst of the dirt with a stray rag. Without his say-so, Tony had been made the keeper of data and most of it had now been catalogued and archived by JARVIS in the deepest, most secure parts of his servers—but something like a data query could’ve been easily handled over the phone.
“Let her up into the penthouse, J,” Tony said. He wiped his hands, combed his fingers through his hair, making the token effort to bring it under control, and shuffled out of the lab, still barefoot and clad in his shirt and jeans, to make his way up to his suite.
Tony tried to project his typical aloof self when the elevator doors opened to reveal Natasha. Her eyes were immediately drawn to him, but if his appearances surprised her, she didn’t show it. To his surprise, she didn’t don Natalie Rushman’s persona either, that sugar-sweet, empathic darling who just wanted to see him smile. The neutrality of her features and the small, almost awkward smile she gave him as greeting lowered some of his hackles.
He was in no mood to be given the runaround today.
Between the breach of trust on one side and never getting the intel she wanted about Iron Man’s identity on the other, they had a rocky relationship since then. They weren’t enemies of course and Iron Man would take a hit for her in a second—which meant Tony would too—but while her relationship with Iron Man was amicable, albeit distant, her interactions with Tony Stark were mostly built on caution and rote professionalism.
Ironically, despite them having a complicated history, he still had a better working relationship with her than with any of the others, save possibly Dr. Banner, but that one was never around long enough for any real friendship to blossom. Thor was almost always off-planet as well, Clint didn’t seem to care either way about Tony Stark, and as for Steve…
“I’ve seen the tapes. I know the kind of guy you are, so don’t go pretending to be a hero, Stark. What are you even doing here besides causing trouble?”
“Being a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist usually has something to do with my presence.”
“Right, except I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. Guys like Iron Man, who’s the real hero here, risking life and limb out there to help us. You’re just the guy with a big enough wallet to get you wherever you want to be.”
“Well, that part is certainly true, but what about you, Rogers? Everything special about you came out of a bottle.”
Most of that hostility had been the result of Loki’s Scepter poisoning their minds, but the tension never fully dissipated, and in the few interactions Tony Stark had with Steve Rogers since then, the best they could manage was awkward politeness.
Iron Man, on the other hand, had no such preconceived notions working against him. Iron Man and Captain America became friends on the field almost instantly.
“Mr. Stark. Good to see you again,” Natasha said when she approached and extended her hand in greeting.
She was perfectly put together as always, both stylish and practical in her attire, her hair the same bright red and back to her wild curls from before. It made Tony, with his dirty shirt and mussed hair and oil stains, feel even more like a schlub.
“It’s Tony, please. I think we’re past the formalities at this point.” Tony grasped her hand for only a moment before pulling away and waving her in. She followed, giving the suite a once-over, eyes skipping over the glitz and the glam and the overpriced paintings to zero in on J’s barely visible cameras.
“Tony, then. Thanks for seeing me. I tried scheduling an appointment, but it seems to have gotten lost in the shuffle. ”
Of course no such appointment had ever been made.
“Bureaucracy, what can you do? No harm, no foul though, any friend of Iron Man’s is a friend of mine,” Tony said as he gestured at one of the couches in the lounge area. Natasha took a seat, legs crossed over the knee and hands settled in her lap, and Tony chose to lean over the back of another chair. It gave him some much-needed space, but he was still close enough to notice the familiar arrow necklace around her neck. Despite his apprehension over this impromptu visit, he couldn’t help but be charmed by the subtle declaration.
She and Barton were like two peas in a pod and he always suspected there was something going on between them, but whether that ‘something’ was a soul-deep, platonic bond or an actual romantic relationship, he couldn’t yet tell.
“Would you like a drink? I’ve got a full bar ready and waiting.”
“Maybe some other time. Is Iron Man around?”
“No, he isn’t. You know how it is, guy’s got his own life, things to do, places to see. Probably gets bored of guarding me all the time.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case. I will admit though, it’s been a while since our last mission together. Been a crazy few months. We missed him in D.C..”
Tony’s own smile turned plastic. “Well, as I’m sure you and Fury were well aware, Iron Man was otherwise occupied.”
“Protecting you, of course.”
As always, it was impossible to read her and Tony couldn’t tell whether the words were meant to be an accusation or a simple statement of fact. You’re a waste of Iron Man’s time, he would’ve heard had anyone else said that, but Natasha had the preternatural ability to imbue her words with five different meanings without giving away a damn thing.
“Well, what can I say, I was right at the top of the list for that whole Project Insight thing. Iron Man had to protect this particular asset, especially when I was cranking through that pesky little data dump. Wish I could've given him the day off to play superhero.”
To Tony’s surprise, Natasha didn’t react to the terse reply and it was even more jarring to see Natasha sigh instead, with a droop to her shoulders and a new sort of exhaustion in her eyes when she looked at him.
“This whole thing’s been sort of a mess, hasn’t it? SHIELD’s gone, Fury is doing god-knows-what while he’s pretending to be dead, and we’ve been left to stumble through the aftermath, trying to find our footing. Thanks, by the way, for helping us with that data. I’ll admit, it was a rash decision on everyone’s part, a Hail Mary, and it didn’t hit me until later just how much damage it would’ve done had it not been for you. Not to me, maybe, but to people like me. Other agents, retired or out in the field, people who would’ve had no warning that their cover was blown or that their loved ones were in danger.”
“Yeah, of course. It, uh—wasn’t a problem or anything. Fun little project, something to keep me busy.” Tony was certain he sounded like an idiot, but Natasha’s sincerity threw him for a loop—and then for another loop when he inevitably questioned whether said sincerity was sincere.
Ugh. This was why he didn’t like working with double agents and spies, but he knew he couldn’t have a normal conversation while doubting her every word and questioning her every motive, so he tried to let the suspicions drop.
She’d proven herself as Natasha Romanoff many times. She was Iron Man’s equal, his teammate, and Tony Stark had to trust her as well.
“You went off the grid for a while, didn’t you?”
“I did, yeah. My own cover was blown, so I needed to dig up some new ones. Needed some soul-searching along the way too. I went back to Russia, looking for my parents. Found two little gravestones by a chain-link fence.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Her smile turned melancholy and Tony’s heart twinged in a moment of shared pain. “I pulled some weeds and left some flowers. Thought about looking up a few distant cousins, figured why not, I was already in the area, but then I got a call from Steve and came back home.”
“That certainly doesn’t bode well. Is he causing trouble again?”
“When is he not?” Natasha parried and Tony snorted on autopilot before catching himself. This was the sort of banter he’d expect her to have with Iron Man, not him.
“I guess if it’s the sort of trouble that leads you all the way to my doorstep, things have to be dire. Don’t get me wrong, seeing you is always a lovely surprise, but we both know you’re here for a reason.”
Her gaze was piercing and Tony was thankful for the chair between them. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short. Maybe I’m visiting to enjoy the company.”
“I know when I’m needed—and I know when I’m being flattered.” Tony ordered himself not to be distracted by her own set of masks and misdirection. “I’m not an Avenger and now I’m not even a consultant for SHIELD. Other than being Iron Man’s engineer and the unofficial IT guy, I’m not part of the cool kids. Yet you’re still on my doorstep, unannounced, which means there’s a reason. A need. I’d like to know what it is.”
“That’s a fair request,” she said, but instead of giving him an answer, she watched him for another second. “You don’t trust me, do you?”
“Do you trust me?”
His deflection earned him a huff and a Mona Lisa smile. “And that’s certainly a fair question as well. I suppose we don’t have enough reasons to trust each other, do we? Not with our history—but I do trust Iron Man and I know he trusts you.”
“That’s sweet, really,” Tony said, forcing himself not to dwell on the fact that he was still unworthy of trust unless it was by virtue of someone else’s, “but why exactly do you need to trust me? Last time we spoke was just before the data breach. Last time I saw the good Captain was at a Veteran’s Gala months before that and while we shared some lovely small talk, he seemed quite eager to bail. So can you just—tell me what it is that you need?”
The smile vanished, replaced by the weariness from before.
“You’re right, I'm sorry. I should get to the point. We both know we didn’t really defeat Hydra, right? Sure, we dealt them a pretty big blow, ruined their big project, but we didn’t end anything. We just cut off a few heads and drove the rest underground.”
“Cockroaches like them never really do go away.”
“No, they don’t and Hydra is the quintessential example of that. They do their best work in the shadows and now they’re desperate too, which means they’re watching us, waiting to strike and get their revenge.”
“Are you asking for my help to destroy the remains?”
“Long-term, yes, but right now what I need—what we need—is protection. I’m here of my own volition, but in a way, I’m also playing the messenger. This was—a team request, let’s just call it, no matter how reluctant Steve was about me coming here.”
Ouch. Tony tried not to let the sting show. “Captain America needs protection? I feel like he’d be insulted by the mere suggestion. Isn’t he the guy who jumps head-first into danger?”
“He is, and he stands to do less of that, but no, he’s not the one who needs our help most right now.”
“Then who?”
Her piercing gaze held when she asked, “Do you know who the Winter Solder is, Tony?” and Tony’s whole body went cold.