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“JARVIS, why is the elevator moving? I thought I told you to shut it down for the second time in a week.” Tony doesn't even lift his eyes from where he's poring over new specs for rebuilding Stark Tower.
“My apologies, sir. There is an old override code being used.”
Override codes. He really needs to stop creating these things, considering what had happened the last time someone had used an override code on his elevator. Tony lets his now-empty glass thud to the table, poking a little harder than expressedly required on the 3D model as the elevator announces visitors to his floor with a cheerful little ding.
“Pep, I don't see why you need to use that lift. I mean, there are other lifts. Other lifts that go to lifts that-”
Someone clears his throat, and that someone sure as hell ain't Pepper.
Tony's head whips up.
It's impossible. No way in hell.
Because standing there, clad in jeans and a baggy hoodie that looks a little more like it belongs to Clint, is Phil Coulson.
Tony thinks he's dreaming, just for that one second, until Clint shuffles out of the lift beside Phil with Natasha bringing up the rear. They all look exhausted, Phil more so than the rest, looking small and almost fragile in a too-big shirt.
Then it all snaps, the grief-loss-anger that has been festering deep inside boiling over and painting his vision red.
He isn't quite sure what happens after that - JARVIS has the tapes, he can rewind them to watch the play by play later - there's someone on him pulling him back and away from Phil as he shouts obscenities in what languages he knows.
Tony's hand finds the glass he'd abandoned on the table earlier, flinging it in the general direction of the supposed-to-be-dead SHIELD agent. (He misses, by a huge margin.) “We thought you died! Cap mourned you! I mourned you!”
“Director Fury believed it to be good motivation, at the time.” Phil has the decency to at least look chagrined at the revelation. “It would have been more preferable to have avoided getting stabbed through the chest though.”
Tony calms down a fraction, even though he's still pissed as hell. The bastards, he thinks. A part of him wonders if Phil knows about the downward spiral that Clint had been on, wonders if he knows about the sketches Steve has been crumpling up ever since Fury broke the news of Phil's death.
“I'm gonna punch that one-eyed bastard.”
Clint's voice is in his ear as Clint lets his grip on Tony loosen. “Get in line, shell-head.”
Phil has this look on his face that’s aimed at Clint.
Tony takes a deep breath, fumbling for the bottle to pour himself another drink. It’s only then that he realizes, his hands aren’t shaking any more. It’s only after he downs the amber liquid that he has the calm to actually face Phil again, taking in the forming bruise that is most likely his handiwork and the slightly annoyed expression of the Black Widow hovering close at Phil’s shoulder.
“Cap’s going to kill you, by the way.”
Behind him, Clint laughs. “Cap’s gonna kill Fury, you mean.”