Archive of Our Own ^beta

It all started when the kid tumbled from the sky, crashing onto the front of Tony's favorite car.

Sleek black metal crumpled and warped underneath the additional weight, bending with the force of the crash. The white head snapped back, smacking against the windshield with a sound that made the back of Tony's head ache. Long spider web cracks stretched in every direction upon the impact.

Tony, who hadn't moved from his spot on the sidewalk, keys still in his outstretched hand, glanced upwards as if he was expecting another falling person. There wasn't any- not even a cloud in the sky- and he blinked in dumb shock.

Very few things had the incredible gift to catch the young billionaire genius off guard.

Apparently, this was one of them.

Then the kid moved, rolling over onto his side with a soft groan as he seemed to curl inwards. Dark eyes blinked open, foggy and disoriented but holding an unshakable sort of defiant life Tony felt like an itch. It was amazing, the way it seemed to draw the older man in and Tony had to set his jaw and physically restrain himself from rushing forward and causing an even bigger scene.

Pedestrians walking by in the early New York morning, bundled in tight warm clothing, stopped to gawk- a true testament to just how bizarre it all was. Very little caught the eyes of a busy New Yorker, and the fact that Tony hadn't even been driving yet seemed to stick out.

But then the boy- young man, Tony realized with a shock- rolled over the last few feet of the hood of Tony's car. Grey clad feet struck the pavement with a soft thumping noise before the slight figure leaned back against the side of the now wrecked convertible.

"Hey man," the young man said with a slight slur and Tony realized he wasn't leaning against his car to try and look cool.

"Hey," Tony replied back dumbly, closing the last couple of feet so he could grip the younger man's shoulder tightly; most of the weight shifted to him, which was fine considering it had been Tony's car that had done all of the damage.

Not that that was Tony's fault. He hadn't been driving, but he still felt a small spark of responsibility, and he'd hate to see the kid (it was hard to think of him as anything else now that he was close enough to feel the sharp edges of his skeleton sticking out at him) suffer permeant repercussions because Tony decided he rather play the rich asshole persona most of the world saw in him.

Only now that they were touching Tony realized that the kid was in almost ridiculous amounts of leather. It curled around his small frame, hugging the pale skin tightly, and Tony felt a little taken aback by the sheer amount of 70s that was rolling off the kid like an ocean.

Tight pants. Cool band brand T-shirt. A silvery-grey leather jacket. A freaking Walkman strapped to his hip, for God's sake.

Not that Tony had anything against the 70s. He had thoroughly enjoyed it, but had grown along with the rest of the world and he was certain there were better gadgets now besides a Walkman.

Before he got a chance to contemplate the oddity that was the white haired kid beside him the younger male suddenly took a step forward- away from Tony's supporting hold. Long legs wobbled under the weight but remained surprisingly sturdy.

That is until the kid turned around to see the damage to Tony's favorite car.

He blanched and Tony figured that his mouth had already started moving before his brain had a chance to catch up with the rest of him, "Oh no. Nonononono. Shit man, I'm so sorry. Is that your car?"

"Uh yeah," Tony supplied in his best placating tone, hands raised in front of him soothingly; it was like every eye in the street were on them, watching and waiting for Tony to make a fool of himself and bully an injured defenseless kid- man, dammit- into feeling bad about something that Tony wasn't even sure was his fault. Not that that was any of Tony's concern.

Except it felt like it should be.

"Shit. Shit," the kid babbled as he turned wide doe eyes back to Tony, "I'm really sorry man. Professor could probably pay for the repairs unless you want me to in which case I don't have the money but I could totally get it for you-"

"Whoa kid, slow down," Tony interrupted, having closed the distance between them, and setting a cajoling hand against the kid's bony shoulder. He tried not to think of just how much it felt like he was holding a bird's wing under his tight hold.

So fragile.

So tiny.

The kid blinked, cocking his head to the side and he was tall. Not freakishly so but enough so that he didn't have to tilt his head back to look in Tony's face despite the fact that Tony had several years senior on him.

"First off dude," the kid supplied as his face scrunched up in a tight expression, "I'm not a kid. I'm 27 years old, thank you very much."

27? He didn't look like he was 27.

"And secondly," he continued oblivious to Tony's inner thoughts, "my name's Peter."

He blinked and it took Tony a split second before he realized that he was waiting on Tony to introduce himself as well, which was fine. It's just that nowadays everyone knew his name either from his technological advances or his part playing superhero vigilante before stupid Steve with his perfect morals and impeccable face- not that Tony missed him in even the slightest.

"Tony," he greeted as he figured it was possible the kid just hadn't been able to match a name to his face just quite yet, "Tony Stark."

Peter blinked, no signs of recognition filtering through the dark eyes.

The kid tipped his head to the side and practically beamed, "Nice to meet you Mr. Stark."

"Tony," Tony corrected automatically though he wasn't entirely sure why, if anything it should've been a nice relief that someone was finally treating him with some sort of formality.

"It's Peter," the kid rectified and before Tony could comment on that his eyes shifted back over Tony's shoulder and Peter's face scrunched back up in an overly concerned manner as he babbled, "I am real sorry about your car. I'm not entirely sure what happened only that one second I was walking and talking with my father and the next-" Peter gasped in sudden shock as he seemed to remember something and large desperate eyes found their way back on Tony as Peter practically demanded, "My father! Did a tall scary looking man appear with me?"

Tony blinked before he responded with a quick uneasy look around, "Uh no. Come on. I don't like talking about this out here."

Out in the open. Out where there were people who didn't like Tony, didn't trust him and would find great pleasure in reporting to the still MIA Captain America about Tony's personal life.

If skinny little boys were going to fall on top of Tony's car in the middle of New York than that was Tony's problem and Steve had no business sticking his nosy little hands into the middle of it- good intentions be damned.

Peter followed obediently, easily matching stride with Tony in a way that made Tony feel extremely slow all of a sudden. As soon as they stepped foot into the large reception area of Stark Tower the presence beside him seemed to disappear as Peter slowed to a stop to gawk at the impressive array of televisions and radios and other knick knacks Tony had collected over the years.

"Whoa man," Peter breathed like a kid that had just stumbled upon Santa Claus's secret factory, "this place is totally hype."

Tony frowned as he moved back to where Peter stalled.

He knew his tower was impressive- he had ensured that he would have the most impressive home in all the world- but usually the reaction was a few impressed whistles or sharp looks at just how incredibly vain Tony was for seemingly putting his whole life on display.

He supposed the world just didn't like a man without any secrets.

The fact that it also still seemed overly fond of its Captain America despite everything the blond male has kept neatly tucked under his belt certainly didn't help any argument in everybody else's favor.

"I suppose with someone who still carries around a Walkman any sort of technological advancement would look hype," Tony snapped back and he wasn't sure why his voice suddenly took on an angry defensive tone only that it had.

He regretted it almost instantly, hating at just how callus and uncaring he could come off as to innocent bystanders. Peter wasn't Steve, probably had no relations to the man whatsoever, yet Tony allowed his anger at the latter to overcome his sense of control.

Again.

Peter didn't seem to mind. He didn't even seem to notice that Tony's tone suddenly took on a malicious edge that had no right being there. He just blinked like an innocent little kid who was being yelled at for the first time in their life before his eyes fell to the Walkman strapped against his hip.

A bright beaming smile crossed Peter's face as he replied in a slightly mischievous tone, "You like? I'm sure a rich man such as yourself own like a thousand of these. Isn't that right, Mr. Stark?"

"Tony."

"Peter," dark eyes took in Tony's walls once more as Peter asked in a tight frown, "I've never even seen most of these models before. What are you, some kind of inventor?"

The exasperated frown that was steadily becoming a normal expression around the kid settled across Tony's face once more as he replied dryly, "Something like that."

Peter's face lit back up in a bright smile as he exclaimed excitedly, "That's so cool man. I have this friend- Hank McCoy- though he really isn't a friend per say but more of a friendly acquaintance but I'm sure the two of you would hit it off great. Him and Professor certainly get along, though not quite as co-dependently as when we first met. I like Hank, though. Plus he's like super smart and would love to see all this-"

"You're babbling again," Tony interrupted, the happy expression never falling from Peter's face as he puckered his lips in an exasperated child's look.

"Right. Sorry. Lead the way," he made a broad gesture with his arms and Tony took the lead once more, which Peter quickly matched.

Side by side Tony made his way to the elevators. Peter's wondrous expression didn't falter, not even slightly, as the elevator doors clanged closed.

"You know, the last time I was in one of these was ten years ago when I-" Peter stopped suddenly, as if cautious about what he was about to say; his eyes shifted over to Tony, who was still watching him with utter bafflement.

"When you…" Tony prompted and that mischievous expression crossed Peter's face once more.

"When I broke my dad out from the Pentagon," Peter filled in and Tony choked as the elevator doors opened in front of them; Peter bounced out as he continued in that overly happy tone of his, "I hadn't known at the time that he was my dad, of course, but Professor and McCoy and Logan had all acted like it was important. And then he- my dad, not Logan- tried killing the president and this other guy before Raven suddenly showed up and took his ass to town."

It sounded like nonsense, it really did. Besides Tony had no recollection of the Pentagon or the assassination attempt on the president and he was almost certain that that would be something he'd catch on one of the too many news channels nowadays. Perhaps all of them.

"Are you in a cult or something kid?" Tony demanded, trailing after Peter who was still babbling as he continued to take in the room around him eagerly.

And if what he was saying was true then that meant that Peter had broken his dad out when he was 17. Not very many people Tony knew were capable of doing just that. Especially not from the Pentagon.

Just what exactly fell on top of his car?

Peter seemed to find the notion incredibly amusing as he puckered up his face and demanded in a nonchalant tone, "Who me? Nah. Professor likes to think at it as one big dysfunctional family whose home gets blown up every few years. I know that if I hadn't shown up when I had last time they'd all be dead. Except for those that hadn't been inside at the time-"

"So this home you live in," Tony interrupted because the conversation was making his head spin in sharp confused little circles, "Is there a reason it keeps getting destroyed or no?"

Peter shrugged as he turned back to Tony with a very serious expression on his face as he replied in a way that sounded carefree but sent slight shivers down Tony's spine, "Nah. Not any that someone would believe you if you tried telling them."

Tony opened his mouth to ask for him to clarify on that last bit, but Peter's eyes suddenly widened as he seemed to remember something.

"My dad! How could I forget? Ugh. One second we were walking and talking and reconciling and the next there was a bright red light and I-" Peter prattled and though most of it still sounded like gibberish a small part of it still stuck out to Tony.

"Wait. Are you absolutely certain that you saw a red light?" Tony demanded like it was the most important thing Peter will ever have to recall in his lifetime.

Peter blinked at him, mouth still slightly open, before it snapped closed and he nodded before asking, "Why? Do you know what it means? Do you know where my dad got sent?"

"I have a hunch," Tony corrected seriously, "and if I'm right then there's nothing to worry over. Your dad is in good capable hands, and I'm sure he'll be well taken care of while we sort this whole thing out."

"Wait. What? You know where my dad is and we're not immediately rushing over there right this instant?" Peter demanded accusingly, and Tony vaguely wondered what kind of relationship the two shared if they hadn't even known each other through the majority of Peter's life.

"Your dad will be fine," Tony soothed offhandedly, "He's with good people." Slightly traitorous people but still good morally- mostly.

"I'm not worried about my dad," Peter snapped, "He's- complicated. Look, if Professor was here then it wouldn't be that big of a deal but considering he's not and the last thing my dad will recall is that his last living relative suddenly disappearing then he's not going to be happy. In fact, he'll be very unhappy until we get over there."

The words confused Tony and he held out the palm of his hand to stop Peter once more as he replied calmly, "I'm sure the people he's with can handle him."

Peter frowned, arms crossing over his chest as he asked, "Is there metal where you think he's at?"

Tony blinked as he replied in a tone that revealed at just how dumb he thought that question was, "Of course there's metal. Why wouldn't there be any-?"

"Then he we need to get over there. Like now," Peter decided already looking around Tony's expansive living room like he'd find a means of flying across the world on a bookshelf or something.

Not that Tony was supposed to know exactly where Steve and his band of illegal Avengers were hiding. It hadn't been too difficult to piece together, though, and everyone seemed happy stewing in their own issues that he hadn't bothered calling the government on them.

"Look. I'll call them for you. Will that make you happy?" Tony demanded as he moved over to the drawer he kept Steve's last gift to him tucked away in.

He pulled out the small cell phone- one a common criminal could easily use as a burner- before he flipped it open and turned it on. The black screen turned white before the off brand's logo appeared with a loud chirp.

Peter was suddenly at his side, peering over Tony's shoulder so he could stare at the screen too. Tony hadn't even heard him make his way over here, but that thought quickly disappeared as the phone's home screen lit up.

Only one phone number was programmed in the device, and Tony only hesitated slightly before he called it. It rang several long drones, each one causing Tony's hand to tense tighter than they already were. Leave it to Steve to promise that he'll be there for him- no matter what- and then not even bother picking up.

"Tony? Now's not really the best of times," Steve's tight voice answered, and Tony frowned at just how strained the other man sounded.

"Steve?" he asked, a tight knot of concern swelling in the back of his throat but that couldn't be right because Tony was worried. Steve had made it clear that he didn't really need him, and the only reason they were currently talking was because Tony had called him first.

"Tony?" Steve repeated before a horrifying thought must have occurred to the other male as he demanded suddenly, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Something groaned on the other end followed by a loud crash. It sent jolts of adrenaline and fear through Tony's gut.

"What? Nothing. I just- what's going on over there?" Tony demanded, and he tried really hard to keep the panic from entering his voice.

Peter met his gaze, and to Tony's surprise the kid seemed to grow increasingly more concerned as the conversation continued. Tony idly wondered what he knew that Tony didn't.

"I don't know Tony. This man just suddenly fell from the sky, and he's unlike anything I've ever seen before," Steve explained slightly breathless before he asked, "Is something happening over there too? Please tell me there's not two of them."

"Two of-" Tony's eyes settled on Peter as he finished lamely, "I guess you could technically say that."

"What? Shit," Steve cursed with such an uncharacteristically ferocity that surprised even Tony.

"Whoa old man. Language," Tony chided, fond memories of when before everything went completely sideways nearly overcoming him; then they were too slow with putting everything together, and it all just sort of spiraled from there.

"This isn't a joke Tony," Steve snapped though Tony could hear the threat of a smile overcoming his voice, "I have nearly everybody here with me, and we're not even able to make a dent so whatever you do please don't engage just yet. Not until we're able to naturalize the threat over here-" there was a loud crash before Steve cried, "Sam!"

"I'm on my way now," Tony decided, recognizing that tone as the one Tony had felt when he saw Rhodey suddenly dive from the sky not too long ago- paralyzing him from the waist down.

"What? Tony no-"

Tony snapped the phone shut before he spun on Peter and demanded, "What's wrong with them?"

Peter made a tight face, unconcerned by Tony's constant shift in attitude, as he replied in solemn tone, "My father."

-:-

Tony hung up before Steve got a chance to protest.

Stifling another curse, Steve snapped the phone shut before tossing it to the side with a sharp jerk of his arm. Years of carrying and tossing his shield around gave him a good enough throw that when the small metal device struck the ground there was an audible crack.

"Whoa there Captain," Barton whistled by his side, having rushed over as well when Sam had gone down; the wings that were usually strapped to the man's back were crumpled in crude shapes, "Where was this guy when Ultron was taking over?"

Steve frowned at the other man before twisting his head so he could catch sight of the man who had just suddenly tumbled from the sky in the middle of T'challa's city.

He remembered how T'challa approached the man, promising that he meant no ill will towards the stranger and warning that he didn't want to start a fight with his people. Steve, who had stayed towards the back as silent backup he hadn't thought the king would need, had silently urged the man to take the warning as serious as Steve knew it was.

He'd learned in the short time that he had been welcomed into the city that the people of Wakanda weren't people one messes with lightly.

The man had just looked at T'challa like he thought he was a foolish idiot before he allowed his gaze to shift to the surrounding crowd. His eyes moved swiftly, like he was looking for something, though Steve wasn't sure what he could possibly be searching for.

"Where is he?" the man demanded, answering the unasked question for everyone else.

T'challa's back seemed to tense as he asked in a still deceptively polite tone, "Where is who?"

The man hadn't seemed to have heard him, though, as he rose to his full height and practically shouted, "Where is he?! You have no right keeping him from me, and I swear that if you've touched a single hair on his head then I'll-"

An arrow whizzed past the stranger, missing his head by a hairs breadth in a no doubt warning shot. Hawkeye simply didn't miss.

Chaos shortly followed..

Beneath Steve's feet the ground gave another sharp jerk and he returned his attention back to Sam's unconscious form. It was like the entire city was being ripped apart around them, and there wasn't anything they could do to stop it.

"Tony said he's on his way," Steve told Barton because their situation couldn't get much worst except all of Tony's armor seemed to be built from metal, and anything with an ounce of metal seemed to act as a disadvantage for them.

"Stark?" Barton demanded in surprise before he furrowed his brows and replied, "Why would you put him in this situation, Rodgers? I thought you were the one that told us that we shouldn't be mad at Tony about everything that's happened."

"I did, and I told him not to come," Steve snapped in slight fury before he regained his composure and explained, "He hung up on me."

And despite everything, Barton's lip twitched upwards in a slight smile as he replied, "That sounds like Tony."

The ground shifted once more and Steve rose to a crouch, back hunched over Sam's prone form, before he tossed his shield at the man hovering in the middle of the city. The stranger didn't even give it a sideways glance, outstretching his hand in an open palm gesture.

The shield froze midair as if suddenly stuck. Then the man clutched his hand into a tight fist and Steve heard the metal crumpling as his shield folded in on itself as easily as a piece of paper. At his side, Barton whistled impressed.

The Ultron comment was starting to make sense.

"We need a new plan," Steve hissed because attacking all at once wasn't working.

Barton didn't seem to have heard him, eyes focused on something behind Steve's back. He turned, twisting to see what had caught the other male's attention, when he saw Black Panther charge the man destroying his city from its foundations up.

Steve wasn't sure what the king's plan was. The dome circling the stranger was so thick that neither Steve nor Barton had managed to make a dent before their weapons were destroyed as simply as snapping sticks in half.

He figured that T'challa certainly had a plan, though, knowing firsthand just how clever the man was.

Black Panther leapt toward the stranger, claws out like a feral cat, before his entire body jerked to a stop much like Steve's shield had moments prior. A furious gaze settled on the subdued king, and Steve silently wished they knew who he was looking for.

"A suit made completely of metal?" the man demanded in a harsh tone, "Not smart," Black Panther went flying backwards, striking the ground so hard Steve felt it in the backs of his teeth before the stranger demanded once more, "Tell me what you've done to him right now or I'll leave no survivors!"

A serious threat, one Steve was certain he'd have no trouble going through with.

A black figure leapt out from the corner of his eye and he turned in time to see Black Widow strike against the dome ferociously. Her long metal prods suddenly lit up with bright blue electricity, and it surrounded the stranger like a cage.

He didn't even seem fazed.

Black Widow dropped to a crouch, the prods suddenly jerking out from her hands. They hovered in front of her threateningly, blue electricity still thrumming through them brightly.

"Nat! Get out of there! Now!" Barton exclaimed from beside Steve, rising to his feet as if he was going to attempt rushing to her rescue.

She didn't need any other incentive.

Spinning on her heel she rushed to where they were crouched down. The prods went flying at her back, one flying harmless by while the other struck the small of her spine. Her belly arched, spine bending outwards, as she let out a strangled gasp before tumbling down on the ground completely boneless.

"Nat! No!" Barton screamed as he rushed to her side.

The ground gave another sharp jerk, and everything that was happening felt a little too much. Like the end of the world and Steve was clueless on how to stop it.

And Tony was flying straight into it.

-:-

"Are any of these planes not made of metal?" Peter demanded as he followed Tony, neck craning so he could take in all of the massive aircrafts.

Under normal circumstances Tony would've demanded for him to stay behind- that it sounded dangerous over the phone- but if the kid was right then it was his dad attacking Wakanda. That meant that Peter was the best option of stopping him. Besides, Tony was almost certain that he'd find a way to his still missing father with or without Tony's help.

The metal thing was getting slightly annoying, though.

"No," Tony snapped over his shoulder before muttering softer to himself, "What type of person builds a non-metal plane?"

As if to answer his question Peter made a stifling noise before he huffed, "Where's McCoy when you need him?"

Tony hated to admit it but he was growing increasingly more interested in where Peter sprouted out from and what type of crowd he hung around. It sounded interesting, at the very least. Certainly different- adventurous, even.

Peter followed him up inside of one of the planes, giving a quick glance around at his surroundings. A slight frown marred his features as he tipped his head back towards Tony.

"We won't be able to land in the city," Peter declared brazenly, "We'd be ripped apart before we even knew what was happening," he turned his attention back to Tony as he asked sweetly, "Do you have a map?"

"Of Africa?" Tony demanded and he sounded incredulous despite the fact that Peter seemed to think that his question was a perfectly normal one.

"Sure. If that's where we're going," Peter chirped back, and he sounded almost overly cheerful about this whole thing.

Almost like a little kid.

Tony kept that thought to himself as he turned and commanded, "FRIDAY, give us a map of Wakanda."

"Wakanda?" Peter demanded suddenly at his side, which should've been impossible because Tony hadn't seen him move, "Never heard of it."

"Yeah? Well it's where we're going kid," Tony declared, causing Peter to puff out his cheeks slightly.

"Like I said before Mr. Stark-"

"Tony."

"Still Peter. We can't go all the way to the city my father and your friends are at. We'll have to land further out," Peter said before he planted his finger out in the nothingness surrounding where Wakanda sat as he declared with obvious self-pride, "Here should suffice."

Tony gaped because the kid had to be insane.

"That's 70 miles out," Tony exclaimed, afraid that Peter was indeed a crazy hermit that's grown up under a rock all his life and had no conceptions on how to read a map.

Peter just frowned thoughtfully as he pondered, "You think it's still too close? I guess we can land a little further out but I think 70 miles is probably safe."

"Peter, we can't walk 70 miles," Tony informed him, pinching the bridge of his nose exasperated; even if he donned his Iron Man suit, which Peter would disapprove of because metal, it would still take too long to travel an unnecessary 70 miles.

"Of course we can't walk 70 miles," Peter huffed in an offended tone before he turned back to the map with a proud sort of smile, "We're going to run it."

"It's official. I'm traveling with a madman," Tony declared as he tossed his hands up in front of him exasperatedly, not sure he could handle the rest of the flight.

Peter gave him a sideways glance before focusing back on the map and asked, "Do you trust me, Mr. Stark? About this, I mean."

"For the last time its Tony and I-" Tony paused, stumped by the question and the genuine emotion residing behind the words.

Did he trust Peter?

On most things, absolutely not. It wasn't anything personal, he just didn't know him very well yet and he's been betrayed enough times already, but this was a completely different story. Whatever was currently happening seemed to be directly in whatever expertise Peter had.

"Ok, sure. I trust you," Tony decided as he turned back to his controls, trying not to regret the words as soon as they left his mouth.

From the corners of his eyes he saw Peter's mouth quirk upwards as he gave a sharp nod of thanks and declared, "Then we land the plan here," he pointed to that same spot 70 miles out.

"Alright," Tony agreed after only a slight hesitation, "FRIDAY. Correct the coordinates."

"Right away, sir," the female voice echoed around them and Peter beamed as he babbled on how cool it was that Tony had his own robot servant.

Tony just tried to not regret his immediate decision, even as the plane slowed down to land. Peter was surprisingly obedient, following all of Tony's snapped orders with bright eyes and broad smiles. Tony tried to tamper down the happy little butterflies the looks the kid kept throwing him caused.

He forgot what it was like to be with someone who held so much respect in him, even if they were mouthy little half-pints who totally knew his name but refused to admit it.

"This is it," Tony announced once the engines stopped and Peter was already moving, unbuckling his seatbelt and bounding after Tony into the hot African heat.

"Which way is my father?" Peter demanded, glancing around them eagerly and Tony was half surprised he hadn't asked why he couldn't see him.

Tony pointed in the general direction. Peter was suddenly at his side, one hand gripping his forearm while the other rested against his neck firmly. Caught off guard Tony's entire frame tensed, like a tightly wound coil.

Oh God, he took me out here to kill me and then steal my plane and go to his father and take over the world…

"What are you doing?" he demanded and Peter gave him an impish side glance.

"Holding your neck so you don't get whiplash," was all he explained before Tony felt his stomach leave his body before he blinked and was in front of a crouched over Steve and Barton and unconscious Sam and Natasha.

"Tony?" Steve asked as he blinked up, apparently just as shocked and confused as Tony, but Tony's legs still felt weak and wobbly so he didn't give the other male much more than a second glance.

"Whoa Stark. You look worse than usual," Barton commented dryly, though the words didn't hold much meaning to Tony because his mind was still reeling dangerously.

What. Just. Happened?

Spinning he caught sight of Peter standing in front of another man, who was for his part tall and imposing as a dome of metal surrounded him protectively. Metal that seemed to have been ripped from the walls of the buildings that made up Wakanda.

"Okay. What the hell?" Tony demanded loudly, without much thinking as he made his way to where Peter was standing by his apparent father.

"Tony," Steve protested the same time Barton warned, "Stark."

Tony ignored both of them because whatever just happened wasn't normal. Peter's father's head jerked towards him as dark eyes narrowed in tight slits and the ground gave a slight jerk under his feet. That stalled Tony enough for him to catch sight of a dark smile that seemed to cross Peter's father's face.

"Very few fools plant metal in their chests around me," the man growled, and it was like the world grew real tense before pain unlike anything he's ever felt before jerked from inside him.

"Tony!"

"Stark!"

Words that sounded more like echoes than anything else, not that it mattered much considering the next moment was overcome by Tony screaming- crying for help- because for the love that is all good and holy it hurt.

Something zoomed past the edges of his consciousness as the metal inside him seemed to groan and protest, falling apart. The one thing keeping him alive was failing him, killing him, and he had never been one for irony.

A dark shape in the strange form of an arrow snapped against the dome, but that couldn't be right because that meant Barton would've shot it in his defense and Barton didn't like him very much. In fact, he was almost certain the other man hated him.

"Stop!"

And suddenly Peter, sweet wonderful Peter, was in front of him. His arms were outstretched and his shoulders were bunched up defensively. If Tony were to harbor a guess then he would've said that Peter was glaring as well and he had to give it to the kid, he had serious guts.

Whatever Peter did worked. The pain in his chest ceased, leaving an almost empty hole. Tony let out a pathetic gasp, doubling over and pressing a fist against the spot his heart sat while the other arm kept him upright.

"Tony?" Peter's worried tone asked softly, head swooping downwards so their eyes could meet; Tony allowed his weight to be shifted onto the other male's slighter frame as Peter hefted them both upright.

"Do I even want to know what just happened?" Tony demanded, head bending so he could look at Peter wonderingly.

Peter shrugged, shifting Tony's weight as he did so before he explained with an impish grin, "What? Did you see something? Something other people would believe if you tried telling them?"

Tony frowned, knowing the words held some sort of significance but wasn't able to discern what exactly that was. He had been able to piece some things together, and it was only because of the still throbbing pain in his chest that he came off sounding like a complete idiot.

"You're one of the fastest people I've ever met," Tony mumbled and felt rather than heard Peter snicker in slight amusement.

"What? You've met others as fast as me?" Peter asked playfully before Peter's father was in front of him, staring down at Tony with a neutral expression.

"Peter," the man said and Tony felt Peter stiffen slightly but not in fear.

"Erik," Peter replied back politely with slight defiance in his tone.

Peter's father- Erik- glanced back to Tony as he frowned slightly and chided, "This man isn't one of us."

Before anyone could reply or explain themselves on what that meant, Steve and Barton were suddenly at his side. Barton even had an arrow pulled back, pointed to Erik's unafraid expression.

"I don't know who you are or where you've come from," Steve spoke unwavering and tense, one of his hands pressed tightly against Tony's free arm, "but you're under arrest."

Erik's eyes shifted to Steve, scanning the man before he gave an unimpressed snort as he responded dryly, "I'm so sure. Last I checked, that hasn't worked very well."

"Only because you're son busted you out," Tony wheezed turning his head upwards to lock eyes with the man before him, "You're underage 17-year-old son who didn't even know you existed because you had left before he was born."

Erik's eyes turned to stone as Tony matched the glare, feeling the pain in his chest tug at him once more. Peter seemed confused on how that last part was relevant, and how in the world did he not have any daddy issues. Tony has plenty to share, and his father had been present most of his life.

Until the accident.

Murder, his brain autocorrected and he couldn't figure which was worst.

"Tony, how could you possibly know that?" Steve asked with a wide eyed expression, probably wondering how he had managed to miss that in the news.

"What the hell Stark?" Barton demanded at the same time and Tony didn't even have the energy to shoot the guy the withering glare he very much wanted to.

"You're just like all the others," Erik accused instead, hand reaching out to grip the soft body part Tony liked to call his throat, "I should kill you now."

Peter caught his dad's wrist, fingers wrapped around so tight his knuckles stuck out and bleached the flesh a stark white color. Peter's dark eyes were glaring up at Erik as he stopped the man from killing Tony where he stood.

Well, Tony figured that if Erik really wanted him dead without intervention then he could just do that painful trick with Tony's chest again.

"Try it, and I'll bury this arrow in your skull," Barton snarled threatening, and that seemed wrong- Barton defending him.

Stranger things have happened, Tony supposed. Namely Peter who was still glaring up at his father angrily.

"Father. Drop. It," Peter commanded with a harsh hint in his tone that Tony had yet to hear in all their short little adventures together.

Erik turned his attention back to Peter once more before he allowed his arm to drop back to his side as he chided in an almost overly paternal tone, "You need to be more careful on who you reveal your life story to Peter."

Peter crossed his arms, allowing Tony's weight to drag slightly before Tony forced himself back upright. Steve's worried hand pressed between his shoulder blades, needy and desperate to help. Tony shrugged it off, huffing slightly as he pulled his attention back to father and son.

It occurred to him that Erik hadn't known about Peter's existence before he had left his pregnant wife. Now all that guilt of knowing he had a son that he had abandoned for all those years left him desperately trying to atone for it. Maybe Tony's initial impression on the guy was only slightly wrong.

He's still a dick, though, and the lingering pain in Tony's chest could atone for that.

"You need to be more trusting," Peter shot back before he stuck out his tongue like an impudent child and added, "Just like Professor is always saying."

"Not that this isn't touching and what not but we should probably refocus on the matter at hand," Tony interrupted ignoring the pain still digging itself in his chest, "I'm just going to harbor a guess and say that neither one of you belong here."

Erik stiffened, mouth open to reply in a certainly unpleasant manner. Tony continued before he got the chance to speak.

"I mean someone has ripped a very literal hole between our two realities and out you two came," Tony explained, mind already piecing it all together and hating how it made sense.

The worst part, he knew, was they would've been able to stop it all. They just hadn't seen just how much she was suffering.

Idiot, she lost her brother. Her twin.

"What are you saying Tony?" Steve demanded at his side, wheels turning behind his own blue eyes and Tony knew it was only a matter of time before he put it all together himself too.

Some immature part of Tony reveled in the fact that he figured it all out first. Probably.

"I'm saying, when is the last time either one of you spoke to Wanda?" he demanded, turning on a confused Steve and Barton.

-:-

"Wanda?"

He was still weak, shirt torn and bloody from where he had been shot multiple times. The skin underneath was smooth, though, as soft and unblemished as the day they were born.

"Shh. It's alright, Pietro. I'm right here," Wanda promised, gently guiding his agitated form back to the mattress where she held him; it's been so long since the last time they touched, the last time they talked and it felt so right.

That's how she knew that it wasn't.

She wasn't Rodgers. She didn't get to act on selfish impulses, facing against an entire world, because of a lost loved one.

She couldn't bring herself to care, though. Not with her brother lying on her bed, weak and confused from suddenly being ripped from wherever he had been as she returned him to her. Selfish and impulsive, she knew, but she learned a long time ago that for family selfish and impulsive were second nature.

"Wanda?" he repeated and he still sounded confused as he reached up to take her face in his hand, "I don't understand. How are you here? You shouldn't be."

She took his hand from her face, kissing the fingertips lightly before just clutching it close to her chest like she used to her doll when they were young and terrified of everything.

"It's okay now," she promised, "You can rest now."

He shook his head. Indigent. Stubborn. Everything she hadn't thought she'd missed and very much had. It was surreal, how the whole world seemed to grow grey and dark because of the loss of one induvial.

Blue eyes blinked open, staring at her murkily, as his free hand stroked the front of his shirt carefully. His fingers buried themselves into the many holes dotting themselves along the fabric as she saw memories of what had happened that day cross through his mind.

He snorted, smirking sideways as he asked, "How's the old man and the boy?"

"Fine," she promised kissing his fingers once more, "You saved them, and I you."

"Hmm," Pietro grunted as his smile seemed to broaden slightly as he replied, "There was never a doubt in my mind," before pain flashed across his features, and he hissed.

"Shh," she soothed, rising from her chair so she could touch his face, stroking it lightly, "You're okay. I've got you. Rest. You still need it."

"What? No. I'm fine," he protested- as bad a patient as ever- and she smiled fondly, not realizing how much she had missed him until that moment.

"Sure you are," she agreed swooping over to plant a firm kiss against his forehead, brushing away stray bangs before she promised, "I'll be here when you wake up."

And nothing could prove her wrong.

Of that she was certain.

-:-

"What do you mean Wanda did this?" Barton demanded, for whatever reason having grown incredibly protective over her after her brother's death.

Tony gave him a flat expression as he repeated slowly, "I mean Wanda brought her brother back from the dead. It just seemed to have worked a little too well."

Barton folded his arms, unimpressed and unconvinced. Steve had quieted down in thought as Erik continued to tend to his son, demanding the entire story from beginning to end without leaving out a single detail.

Tony felt his eyes shift to Peter, who was watching the argument with a tight frown. He seemed worried, which didn't make much sense. It wasn't like Tony couldn't handle Barton.

"Do you have a sister?" Tony heard himself demand despite his previous resolve to leave the kid and his dad out of whatever incident had taken place because of their negligence.

Peter blinked, surprised, before Erik answered, "Of course he does. A slight little thing but she doesn't have any powers. I checked as soon as I found out about Peter."

Tony kept his eyes locked on Peter's as the kid seemed to swallow and shuffle uncomfortably. He seemed to shift away from his father, debating something inside his brain.

"Peter?" Tony prompted because he knew he was right.

"Uh… eh. I have a twin, but I haven't talked to her in years. I really mean that, by the way, not since she-" he choked, trailing off uncomfortably.

"Not since she what?" Barton demanded with a narrowed expression.

Peter's hand went to his throat and Tony understood better than he'd like to admit as he filled in, "Not since she hurt someone trying to protect you. Hurt them real bad with her powers, am I wrong?"

Peter's eyes squeezed shut as he declared fiercely, "It wasn't her fault. We were young, and she didn't know how to control it, and the guy was going to kill me and- I don't know. She just snapped. The man had just sort of imploded on himself and by the time mom arrived we were both so thoroughly freaked that she had just sort of bailed."

"Sweet Jesus," Barton hissed under his breath.

"I don't understand how that's relevant," Erik stepped in, coming to defend his obviously distressed son, and if Tony was honest he hadn't really been expecting for Peter's Wanda to have killed someone.

"It means our Wanda had somehow found Peter when searching for her brother and, having connected through a shared grief and guilt, she had pulled him through as well," Tony filled in, "and she could perhaps be the only person capable of sending you back."

"My sister's name isn't Wanda though," Peter protested like names were relevant in this argument, "Its Wendy. She might go by something else now. I don't know. I haven't seen her in a while."

"Point is we need to find Wanda," Steve stepped in before he took a quick glance at their surroundings and added, "and help repair these damages."

Tony took a look around as well as he realized Erik had managed to rip half the city apart before him and Peter had showed up. Crap, it probably cost millions in repairs and there was no telling how many people had been hurt in the process.

"I'll help T'challa any way I can," Tony promised as his eyes focused back on Peter's, "After this whole mess is sorted out."

"All the damage done is metal," Erik stepped in, "I can fix it tonight and we'll deal with the issue of returning later. How did you arrive Stark?"

"I brought one my planes," Tony replied with a startled blink before he realized how rich and snobby that made him sound.

"I made him park away from the city because I was afraid of what you would do to it," Peter explained, "with it being metal and all."

"Okay," Erik nodded taking charge, "You and Stark go and fetch it while I put back together what I destroyed. We'll stay here the night, if of course, we're welcomed."

"I'll talk to T'challa about it," Steve promised before he made another face, "as soon as he wakes up."

"Good," Erik nodded approvingly before his eyes settled back on Tony and he declared, "and maybe later you can enlighten me on just how you managed to get several metal shards lodged so far in your heart that you should be dead."

Several sharp expressions turned to him and Tony recalled how he's never told anyone how his entire world had exploded that day in the desert before one of his many nightmares began. One he much rather stay in the far recesses of his mind, where the sound of gunfire couldn't touch him.

-:-

The best part about Peter's company is that he didn't expect for Tony to participate in a two way conversation. He just babbled on and on about mostly nonsense, though Tony had managed to piece together something things- like how this Professor was in fact not a cult leader and that Peter and Erik weren't results from a lab experiment gone horribly right.

Instead Peter came from a world in the past (which explained the Walkman and clothes but still made Tony's head ache if he thought about it too long) where a good majority of the population were graced with something referred to as the X-gene. In simpler terms, it was the thing that made them go mutant, a word not used kindly where Peter's from.

Lucky for the mutant population, as soon as the X-gene stops becoming dormant the Professor- Charles Xavier- opens his doors and helps train you to control your unique abilities. Kind of sweet except every couple of years something goes terribly array and Xavier's school ends up in some sort of ruin.

That helped clear up a lot of confusion Tony held, though most of the finer details remained fuzzy- such as why Charles would willing assist in breaking out Erik giving him the chance of attempted assassination. He didn't dream of asking Peter though.

He liked the kid, he really did, but the fear of startling the boy into total silence was still very real and frightening. Not that at the moment, trapped on his plane while they flew the last 70 miles to the city, Peter seemed like he was going to shut up any time soon.

"So you're… mutation?" Tony finally interrupted after Peter veered off into his mom's basement, in which he's lived in before he officially joined Charles' school.

Peter just shrugged, like he was confused, before he explained, "I'm just really fast. I mean not really, really fast because I always seem to be too late with everything important but I am fast. Faster than what's considered normal."

"And Erik?"

Peter grinned a lopsided smile as he said, "He's like the master of magnetism or something. Anything crafted of metal is in big trouble if he gets really angry, but most of the time I don't think he is. Charles said he's suffering a great deal, which I totally get and was why I didn't want to tell him he's my dad, but Charles prompted me to tell him. He claimed that in his time of need Erik needed to know he had family, which was fine and the guy was cool about it and all but I still-"

"Feel like your replacing something irreplaceable," Tony finished because that he got; that he understood all too well.

"Yeah," Peter agreed as he made a pensive expression before he changed the subject and asked, "So… where did you end up with metal lodged into your chest?"

As if self-conscious Tony's hand came to rest over the device surrounding his heart. He's come to accept it as part of himself, something that set him aside, other than his charm and money and genius, but he realized he hasn't told any of the other Avengers what had happened. Totally not his fault as that normally didn't pop up in normal conversation.

Hey, how did you get that fancy chest device Tony?

Oh, you know, some terrorists tried killing me in the desert unless I built some of the most powerful missiles ever crafted so they could blow up half the world. Now I'm permeantly stuck with this little reminder, neat huh?

Tony allowed his fingers to press themselves against the arc reactor as he replied dryly, "Afghanistan."

"Whoa. Does it hurt?" Peter inquired, and Tony allowed his hand to drop back to his lap as he focused back at the passing scenery below.

"Sometimes."

Fortunately for him the conversation didn't get a chance to continue. The city came into view and after a quick command at Peter to buckle up he maneuvered his plane into landing in one of the many clearings dotting the expansive kingdom T'challa ran.

Peter unbuckled his seatbelt before he bounded out; Tony followed slightly surprised to find T'challa and his super-hot-but-probably-off-limits sister waiting for him and though T'challa had sided with Tony before it had been more of a technicality than anything else.

"Greetings Stark," T'challa welcomed with a polite bow of his head before he gestured towards his sister and introduced, "This is my little sister Shuri."

Tony gave her an acknowledging dip of his head before he turned back to T'challa and replied, "I almost feel bad. I seemed to have left your gift basket in New York."

T'challa's face remained as neutral as ever but Tony caught the corners of Shuri's mouth twist upwards in amusement. Tony felt the swell of pride expand in his chest at the knowledge that he was still capable of wooing women. Not that she would ever be one he'd willing chase- knowing better than to do something to threaten the peace he seemed to share with Wakanda.

"We owe you a great debt," T'challa continued flawlessly, "if not for you than my city would have surely been lost."

"Yeah? Don't think about it too much. You might give yourself an aneurysm," Tony shrugged off as he clapped the man on the shoulder on his way past as he scanned the growing crowd for a familiar face.

He caught sight of Peter standing beside his father and though every time he looked at the man Tony still felt the sharp tug at his chest he made his way over there. He figured it proved just how sad his life had become that he'd prefer hanging out with the man who had just tried killing him over the people he once sided with.

"Mr. Stark," Peter chirped as soon as his eyes caught sight of him, and Tony idly wondered what was up with that because he knew Peter knew what his real name is.

"Tony."

"Peter."

Tony frowned as Erik's mouth twisted amused before he proclaimed, "I apologize about trying to kill you. Thank you for returning Peter to me."

"Yeah. Sure. No problem," Tony waved off, suddenly uncomfortable.

"I am ever debited to you. If you ever need anything, I'll be there," Erik continued, and Tony recalled a letter that said much the same thing.

Except it hadn't been Tony who needed help but Steve. And for reasons Tony can't yet fathom he came rushing to the other man's rescue.

I did it for Peter, Tony resolved firmly, because he had asked me too.

And Tony decided to ignore that obnoxious little voice in his head that told him that that wasn't the whole reason. On some small level he had wanted to come rushing to the other man's rescue because he didn't want to see him hurt or worst.

Peter's smile suddenly faltered as he murmured, "Uh oh. Trouble."

He pointed past Tony's shoulder, and Tony turned to see T'challa approaching the three of them. Tony felt his stomach leaden but he figured it was still better than Steve.

"Rodgers filled me in on what had happened," T'challa explained instantly, stopping beside Tony as he regarded Erik and Peter with a calculating gaze, "I am very sorry about the misunderstanding. If we had known we would've been able to assist you in your matters."

"It doesn't matter now," Erik waved off, "and I'll help repair the damages to your city."

T'challa bowed once more as he graciously responded, "Thank you and until you are able to contact the woman you three are welcomed as my guests."

Tony felt something inside him drop at the words as he demanded, "You mean she's not here?"

"I'm afraid not," T'challa replied turning to regard Tony with a neutral expression but Tony could've sworn he saw a hint of something there, "and I have no collection on where she is currently."

Tony felt the building dread that this would prove a lot more difficult than he originally anticipated. He'd much rather go back to his tower where he could hole himself up with his inventions and do something constructive with his life that wasn't dealing with the matter of Steve or the Avengers.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Erik spoke, giving a slight nod before he watched T'challa disappear back in the crowd in his exit.

"That's just so surreal and creepy on how he does that," Tony noted before he realized Erik and Peter were staring at him with matching expressions; he frowned, unnerved, before he asked, "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Tony, I think we need to talk," Steve's voice echoed behind him, and Tony stiffened before he let out a small unhappy noise.

"Sorry Capsicle, but I'm a little busy at the moment," Tony denied without turning around because he saw Steve then he'd talk to Steve and he wasn't ready for that just yet.

"Tony-"

"What do you say kid? You up for a little exploring?" Tony asked Peter and he figured Peter must know what he was trying to do but his face lit up a million watts anyways.

"Duh, Mr. Stark."

"Tony."

"Peter," he corrected for what's felt like the millionth time, and Tony was getting kind of irked by it but then Peter was grabbing onto his arm and he was miles away from Steve, and Tony allowed his mind to float weightlessly along with it.

Peter abruptly stopped and the familiar wave of nausea reappeared as he doubled over, hands clutching tightly around his knees as he sucked in several deep breaths. His hands were shaking and he felt Peter's consoling hand press itself against the small of his back.

"It's alright. It'll pass," and then slightly softer as he turned away he added, "It happens to everyone, and I just sort of figured that you'd want to get as far away from there as possible with the way your face was all bunched up."

"I'm fine," Tony wheezed out as he straightened his spine, "It's amazing how quick you are."

Peter beamed like Tony had just complemented his Walkman or hair or something. His teeth were bright in their whiteness before his head turned as he gave a quick look around. The city stood tall and almost daunting on one side while the other was filled with hulking trees that stood over them like sentinels.

Why anyone would willingly attack Wakanda, Tony couldn't fathom. Not only was the place well equipped with the strongest people Tony's ever seen it seemed years more advanced in any tech Tony's seen before- including his own. Add on that they were the sole providers of the strongest metal on the planet proved they weren't a force to be reckoned with.

And Erik nearly took them all down singlehandedly.

"You feeling alright there man?" Peter asked, his face bunched up in tight concern as he pointed out, "You're looking abnormally pale all of a sudden."

"I'm fine," Tony forced out between clenched teeth before he took a random direction and started towards it.

Behind him Peter followed easily, making Tony feel like a slow old man again. At least now he understood why, so he supposed there was always that.

"This place you come from, is there anybody else that can do what you can?" Tony queried if nothing else but for a stimulating conversation.

Peter, surprisingly enough, made an excellent conversationalist.

"What you mean like running?" Peter questioned with a slight smile before he shook his head and explained, "Nah but there's some pretty cool stuff. Raven- the person I was telling you about earlier- can morph herself into any person she wants. It's kind of wicked in a scary sort of way, but that might just be her."

Tony made an impressed sound in the back of his throat as he thought of that, turning yourself into anyone else on the planet. It sounded like a nice thought as most days he was tired of being Tony Stark- the man without any parents, no friends, and the weight of the world settled firmly against his shoulders. Always there. Always pressing.

All because he was the idiot who came up with the idea of building overly advanced weapons for the military. Weapons that got him metal lodged in his heart and plenty of people- good people- dead.

Peter continued with an oblivious expression on his face, "And then there's Scott, who's mostly cool. I don't know. The first time I met he had just found out his brother was dead because I-" his throat caught on whatever he was about to say before he concluded with a forlorn expression, "I made a mistake. I was too slow."

Tony clapped Peter's shoulder in a comradery gesture before he caught sight of the woman approaching him. His back tensed and without really meaning to his grip tightened around Peter's shoulder, causing the younger man to give him a sharp look.

"Ow," he protested before he followed Tony's stare and whistled, "Wow dude. She's like, totally hot in that scary Raven sort of way."

"Yeah," Tony agreed before she stopped in front of them and he greeted with a formal nod, "Natasha."

"Tony," she replied back and though her face was as calm as ever there seemed to be a hint of surprise in her eyes before they settled on Peter.

"Peter. Peter Maximoff," Peter introduced, sticking out his hand unaware to the danger that motion put him in.

"Come on," Tony prompted, shouldering Peter forward so they could slip past the female spy, "and watch your back. You never know what she might place there."

"That's unfair," Natasha protested behind him, but Peter seemed to have caught on to the inner meaning as his face scrunched up once more in thought.

"Oh wow. Cold shoulder. She must have done something pretty serious," Peter declared before he twisted his neck so he was staring back at Tony as he prodded obnoxiously, "What'd she do? Come on. What'd she do?"

"What makes you think she did something?" Tony demanded, teeth set firmly and Peter slowed to a stop forcing Tony to stop and giving Natasha plenty of time to catch up with them.

"Because people don't usually act like this unless the other person's done something pretty serious," Peter replied like it was really that simple.

Tony's life hadn't been that simple in a long time.

He glanced at her waiting expression before he focused back on Peter and shrugged, "Nothing. She was doing her job, playing her part and she's an excellent little actress. I actually thought she was on my side for the longest time."

"I was- am on your side," Natasha stated, but Peter seemed to have caught on (kid was more perceptive than he let on) and those big apologetic doe eyes focused once more on him.

Dammit.

"That's real cute," Tony snapped back at her, "all things considered because last I checked that didn't entitle anybody to stabbing people in the back."

"I didn't stab you in the back," Natasha protested, a hint of anger coloring her voice and expression as she crossed her arms tensely.

"No? Have you really played double agent that long that you forgot what that meant? Or are you such a good liar you've managed to convince yourself?" Tony demanded finally letting his anger come forward, and if Peter didn't suddenly set a constricting hand against his forearm Tony was sure he would've done something stupid.

He still might.

Natasha- damn her- didn't even seem fazed. Not even a misplaced eyelash and Tony figured that there hadn't been very many sleepless nights over what happened between them.

"You were the one who told me to watch my back," Tony reminded hands clenched at his sides, "and that's what I'm going to do."

He jerked Peter with him as he stormed away. Peter stumbled but quickly regained his footing as he gave several uneasy glances towards Natasha planted in the same spot they left her.

She must not be very used to not getting the final word in.

"She's still standing there," Peter informed him with a pensive expression, "Should we be concerned?"

"Doubt it. I'm not planning on staying here much longer," Tony informed him, tired of constantly running into these people he once sided with every few feet.

He just forgot about Peter.

And Erik.

"What? So we're, like, all going back to that tower of yours?" Peter asked and he sounded equal parts worried and excited about the proposition.

"Just me kid, sorry," Tony apologized and he forgot what it felt like to be this man- the one children look up to and respect and actually liked.

It's been too long.

"What? Why?" Peter demanded as he slowed down to another stop, bright eyes staring up at him like he was suddenly frightened of the thought of them parting before a soft noise echoed in the back of his throat and he declared boldly, "It's these people. They're making you uncomfortable. Why? What happened?"

"Nothing. I just don't play well with others," Tony shrugged offhandedly as he turned to keep walking, literally counting the steps that brought them further and further away from Natasha.

"That can't be it," Peter boldly proclaimed, "After all, these people seemed quite fond of you. Trust me, I've seen enough of these scenarios to know how this'll play out. You'll leave and life will continue on until the next big thing and you'll find yourself trapped or on the wrong end of a war."

Tony's step halted as he made an almost choking sort of laugh as he gave his head a soft shake and whispered nearly inaudible, "Been there. Done that. Trust me when I say that all of this is better off without me."

-:-

"So what happened in Afghanistan?" Peter asked in- no doubt- one last attempt to convince him to stay, and the more the kid tried the more Tony yearned to listen.

Several curious glances were thrown their way, and it took Tony longer than it should've to realize that his finger was itching at the plate in his chest. A nervous habit that only happened in great moments of stress, usually witnessed only by those closest to him: namely Rhodey and Pepper.

Tony dropped his hand, hating himself a little more, as he declared in a pleasantly even tone, "I miscalculated. I had somehow convinced myself that my dad's legacy was meant to be filled with some of the scariest weapons ever conceived."

Peter's eyes dropped to where Tony's heart once pumped independently as he prodded, "So that's what happened? You got taken out by your own weapon?"

Tony opened his mouth to reply but found he couldn't. Nothing seemed good enough, no words capable of explaining what had happened that day and the following weeks and he was certain that he could never get them to understand.

They were watching him, though, waiting for his reply- all of them. Steve. Sam. Barton. Natasha. Even T'challa had joined them with several bottles of something that smelt like berries but made Tony's world go all wibbly wobbly in ways no other alcohol has ever done before.

At their odd glances the king had declared it an act of celebration, like the reopening of a new shopping complex or something. Not that that was all that far off- the months' worth of damage Erik had caused was almost completely repaired by the same man.

Tony suddenly wished he hadn't declined a second drink, knowing that perfect Steve Rodgers wouldn't have let him go back if he suspected Tony had more than a couple of sips of whatever T'challa was trying to poison them with.

"Something like that," Tony finally decided as he gave Peter a slight nod because the kid was still awaiting a response.

"You've never mentioned Afghanistan before," stupid drunk Barton pronounced as he held up his third or fourth bottle; he wasn't slurring yet, surprisingly enough, and he still seemed aware of his surroundings so Tony supposed he wasn't that drunk.

Unfortunately.

Tony just shrugged as Sam asked with a note of familiarity only people who've fought in some sort of war carried, "What were you involved in? Special Forces?"

"It doesn't matter," Tony decided, "I- they all died because they were ordered to protect me, and when they did they killed them with my weapons."

Memories flashed too quick to interpret but Tony felt all of them. His chest was burning hotly, reminding him of when he'd been trapped in that cave pretending to build a missile so he wasn't shot in the back of the skull. Maybe the world would've been better off if he hadn't been so determined to live then.

"Tony?" Steve's concerned voice asked before hands guided him to a chair and his voice prompted, "I think you need to sit down for a while."

Tony blinked and just like that it was over. He was back in that room with too many eyes staring back at him and the irrational urge to escape.

"I got struck by one of my missiles," Tony explained because he knew the burning inside him wasn't going to stop until he got it all out, "Some of the metal ended up lodged into my chest, and the next thing I know I'm waking up in a secluded cave in the middle of nowhere with the demands to build these guys some of my missiles so they can start blowing up the world."

"Stark, why have you never told any of this before?" Barton asked but he didn't sound all demanding and condescending as he normally would have.

"It was always irrelevant. Stuck in the past where it belongs," Tony shrugged off before he added like an afterthought, "except for this thing. This I'm forever stuck with. It's even how I first met Fury and," his eyes trailed over to Natasha still sitting frighteningly still.

The eyes of the room shifted to her and she gave a sharp nod as she pronounced, "It was killing you."

"Yeah well, a battery in your heart will do that to you," Tony declared a bit snappishly; in response Natasha just tilted her head to the side.

"So this thing that happened in Afghanistan," Sam said as he seemed to have pieced the majority of it all together, eyes a steely sort of calm.

"Is what made me decide to become Iron Man," Tony affirmed, and Peter whistled sharply.

"That's really rough Mr. Stark," was all Peter said when all the eyes of the room shifted over to him.

Tony ran a hand through his hair as he corrected just to hear the response he knew would be waiting for him, "Tony."

Peter seemed to give an impish side grin as he shook his head and replied simply, "It's Peter."

That seemed to alleviate most of the uncertain tension in the room, and Tony wasn't sure why they were making such a big deal about this. Not even Rhodey or Pepper had, granted they had their hands mostly full with keeping Tony alive and Obadiah away from Tony's first suit.

Or maybe they had, and he had been too caught up with not permeantly killing himself to notice. He suddenly had a hard time recalling.

"It is getting late," T'challa pointed out suddenly as he rose to approach where Tony was sitting in his chair, "I suggest that if you are planning to leave sometime tonight then to go now. Surrounding countries are not the biggest fan of-"

"Stark Industries. Yeah. I get that a lot," Tony finished with a shrug before he rose to his feet and started to make his grand escape.

Peter trailed behind, like a lost duck.

"Peter, I was under the impression that you and your father were to remain here until we are able to detect Wanda," T'challa protested and Peter nodded, eyes never leaving Tony's as he gave one last effort in convincing Tony to stay.

"I just want to say goodbye," Peter told him and T'challa seemed to understand as he backed off to give them some space.

"What? For me? Come on kid, we haven't known each other that long," Tony protested and Peter gave him a cheeky grin as he gave his head a slight shake.

"You remind me of someone," Peter informed him, "Someone I know I'm going to miss, though it does kind of suck that there isn't anybody who would know where this Wanda person would've disappeared too."

Tony's eyes widened in realization and he could've hit himself for being so stupid before.

"That's it," he proclaimed already spinning on his heel to hurry out the door to where his plane was waiting, "I'm such an idiot, Jesus Christ."

"Hey, whoa, wait up," Peter protested even as he and the rest of the occupants in the room rose to follow Tony out the door.

Nights in Wakanda turned out to be only slightly less hot than the daytime, a thought shoved in the very back recesses of Tony's mind as he tapped on his watch.

"FRIDAY, I need you to get into contact with someone," he commanded impatiently waiting for her programmed response.

"Tony, what's going on?" Steve demanded as he jogged to close the distance between them; Tony paid him no mind, Peter already at his side staring up at him with those eager adventurous eyes.

"Ready sir," FRIDAY's soft voice informed.

"I need you to get in contact with Vision for me," Tony told his program and there was a soft click before a familiar voice echoed over the link.

"Tony?"

"Hey, listen, when was the last time you've talked to Wanda?"

-:-

Wanda was suddenly woken by the sound of engines, causing her to bolt upright from the chair she had managed to doze off in. On the bed, still completely out of it, Pietro remained sleeping peacefully. A soft affectionate smile crossed her features as she reached out to brush several lose strands of white hair from his forehead before she turned towards the door.

Whoever it was would soon learn that it was not in their best interest to pursue whatever attack this was much further.

Rising to her feet she felt the familiar sparks of electricity crackle through her fingertips. It sent a sudden burning desire through her chest to crush and destroy before they got a chance to see her brother- hurt her brother.

She just hadn't expected for Tony Stark to be the one to climb out of the plane.

She opened the door silently, cautious of her still sleeping brother, and the warm night air seemed to instantly curl around her slight frame in a comforting sort of gesture. She couldn't explain why but ever since the experiments she's found herself oddly in tuned to the world around her.

"Stark," she greeted trying to keep the surprise from her voice because this was the man who had given her a home and food when she no longer had anything left.

He also tried imprisoning her there when she screwed up, but for some reason that didn't appear to be the first thought that crossed her mind. Nor did the bomb that killed her parents, had almost killed her, because she long since realized that as much as he tried he couldn't control what people did to others under the veil that was the Stark name.

That didn't necessarily mean that she was bubbling with joy upon seeing him. She just didn't find herself overflowing with the bright red anger that had clouded her vision for the longest time formerly.

"Wanda," he replied back before something moved behind him, and she realized that he wasn't alone.

She tensed, electricity thrumming back to her fingertips, before she realized it was just Clint and Rodgers and that strange Russian woman that always made Wanda feel slightly uncomfortable to be around. They didn't look very threatening, not like when they had first met.

"Wanda," Stark continued as he closed the distance between the two of them, "Wanda, we need to talk."

She stepped back defensively, feeling the overwhelming urge to protect Pietro fill her once more. It didn't matter what this man or any of the others said. They weren't taking him from her. Not again. Never again.

"Speak now," she commanded from her spot in front of the door leading into the small cottage she was currently nursing her brother in, "and not a step closer."

Stark stopped, passive expression spreading across his features. Wanda hadn't even known the man who's built so much destruction could do passive.

"Wanda, listen to me, we know what you did," Clint called and Wanda heard the switch flip inside her head as she realized what they were doing here.

The trees shook and groaned as the wind seemed to pick up around them. All the world's heat seemed to suddenly have traveled down her arm, residing just behind her fingertips as it burned and begged to be released upon those who wished Pietro ill will.

"We're not here to hurt either one of you," Rodgers promised in that noble and understanding tone of his, blue eyes reassuring her that it was okay and she knew it was because he wasn't one to make up false truths.

She calmed the swarming urge inside her to do whatever it took to protect her brother as she demanded in a clipped tone, "Then why are you here?"

To her surprise Stark seemed to take on a pained expression as he explained, "When you brought your brother back you got a few stragglers as well."

Wanda blinked at the words, frowning as she demanded, "What?"

Before anyone else could speak someone suddenly appeared at her side. It was a boy, slightly younger than her and Pietro with a familiar mop of white hair and bright eyes. He wasn't her Pietro, though, he was too thin and dressed oddly but the smile he gave her was almost frighteningly familiar.

"Who are you?" she demanded, hands up and powers cackling around her like lightning, but he didn't appear fazed.

"The name's Peter," he introduced with a proud smile like the name was supposed to mean something to her.

It didn't but he certainly did. Looking at him there wasn't even a doubt in her mind on who he was but that was impossible.

"I don't understand," she called, still refusing to allow her defenses to drop even though a voice in the back of her mind told her that she needed to or else wake Pietro.

"Wanda, we have a lot to talk about," Stark told her obviously but she couldn't bring herself to turn to him, not when there was this person who looked so much like her brother that it hurt.

"Okay," she agreed calming the storm rising inside her chest as she nodded and dropped her arms, "Let's talk," but when she turned to look at the others another man caught her attention- younger than he should've been but undoubtedly there- and her voice caught in the back of her throat once more as she forced out confusedly, "Father?"

-:-

It wasn't her father.

At least, not in the traditional sense. He carried the same name- Erik Lensherr- but it was all wrong. Off. He was young with a serious edge in the corners of his eyes that made his face seem overly somber, and the love she remembered always residing in the folds of his face were absent.

"This is all my fault," she claimed after the others explained what happened- what she had done- and they couldn't have made her feel worst if they had tried.

"It would appear so child," Erik replied coolly before anybody got the chance to respond and her face burnt as she ducked her expression from them.

"Hey, back off. She couldn't have known," Clint snapped, jumping to her defense like he always seemed to.

She hoped it wouldn't become a habitual thing. After all, she didn't need his protection, and the further she's able to progress with her powers the more she's convinced of that.

Peter frowned at both of them, still rooted in the same place at her side, and she felt his presence like a sickness. It seemed to encompass her, wrapping her tightly because he looked (was, she reminded herself, in a different time and a different place) like her brother.

But it was Stark that surprised her the most.

"We're sorry Wanda," he apologized and she wasn't sure she's ever heard the man apologize before, "for not seeing what you were going through before now. Before all of this."

He gestured to Peter and Erik, standing in opposite places in the middle of the clearing. No one had moved since she caught sight of Erik. She hadn't let any of them move, and now the confrontation seemed a little too much- too pressing- and she was certain that she's forgotten how to breathe.

What had she done?

She shook her head because denial came quick and easy and Peter was still staring at her with a tight worried expression and she wondered if she reminded him of someone else too, "I didn't know."

"I know," Peter whispered to her- only to her, it seemed- as he set a comforting hand on her shoulder and promised quietly, "It's okay Wendy. It's not your fault."

Wendy.

That must be the her from wherever he's from.

She blinked, staring up at him with an openmouthed expression. He seemed to have realized his mistake, face flushing in slight embarrassment as he cleared his throat awkwardly. His head turned so he was staring to the side and not at her and she wanted to reach out to comfort him. Everything inside her yanked and pulled to do just that.

"Wanda," he corrected awkwardly, "It's not your fault Wanda."

Wanda felt a slight smile grace her features as she reached out and gently pressed her palm against his shoulder. He didn't pull away, just closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath as he seemed to try and clear his thoughts.

Pietro always had that problem- even before the experiments.

"Wanda," Rodgers said as he took a step forward breaking her out of whatever ravine Peter kept pulling her into, "Erik and Peter don't belong here."

She dropped her hand, turning away so she could face the solider with an expressionless mask as she gave a slight jerk and replied, "I know."

"So you know how to fix it then?" the Russian woman- Natasha, Wanda thinks- demanded in a way that didn't make it sound like a question but still expected an answer all the same.

Wanda felt her eyes drift to Erik, staring at her with those overly bright eyes, before Peter as she felt her head shake and the words caught in the back of her throat as she managed to force out, "I can't-"

And then everything happened really, really fast.

The door flew open behind her and an arm caught around her waist as she was spun around until she was standing back in the doorway of the cottage. Peter had already moved, and if it had been anyone else landing a punch on her brother than she would've been impressed. She still was, slightly, because people as quick as Pietro just didn't happen.

"Ow! What the hell man?" Peter shouted all furious and sharp edges as he danced in place, shaking out the hand he'd used to punch Pietro's jaw.

"You're the one hitting people," Pietro snapped back, stalling in his assault as he blinked at the shorter younger male with an air of amazement, before he demanded with a narrowed expression, "How did you do that anyways?"

Peter blinked confusedly, opening his mouth to list off all the semantics it took to punch someone, when Rodgers stepped forward, taking charge once more.

"It's complicated," Rodgers informed and his hands were raised in a comforting gesture; blue eyes regarded her with a sort of kindness she had long since forgotten other humans were capable of.

Peter continued nursing his fingers as he blinked, glancing up to regard Pietro. His face seemed to contort as the beginning stages of a full blown smile stretched across his features.

"Whoa man," he whistled evidently impressed, "Do you work out or something because let me tell you I tried it once and no thank you."

"Wanda?" Pietro asked tilting his head in her direction as he demanded, "What's going on?"

"They say I'm you," Peter explained before Wanda got a chance too, still ogling over Pietro's biceps, before he made a soft sound in the back of his throat and clarified, "Except, you know, different. Obviously."

"Obviously," Pietro agreed as he turned to narrow his eyes on her once more and Wanda just sort of shrugged.

"Do you know how to fix it?" Rodgers demanded as he took another step forward but both Wanda and Pietro's attention were so fixated on Peter he probably could've gotten away with finishing the distance between them.

Wanda just glanced between the other males before she gave her head a sharp jerk as she apologized, "No. To be honest I'm not even sure how this happened."

"It is imperative that we get back," Erik spoke up and Pietro frowned as he turned to glare at the speaker.

His eyes caught the form of their father look-alike and his face smoothed out into a disbelieving expression. The muscles in his jaw tightened, loosened before tightening again as his eyes seemed to focus solely on Erik.

"You brought back our father as well?" Pietro demanded, and Wanda opened her mouth to correct him because every time either one of them called Erik that the man's face seemed to scrunch up a little more.

"My father actually," Peter corrected for her with a shrug, "so, yeah, pretty much the same thing."

"Peter," Erik chided, and Peter's head tilted in his direction as he gave another shrug; it occurred to Wanda that though the two of them seemed close it wasn't in a way that felt like they've known each other their whole lives.

"I can work on it," Wanda promised because she hadn't really meant to suck other people into her problems.

She'd only wanted her brother back.

"But?" Stark prompted like he knew something and of course he did. The man was a genius.

She released another deep breath as she shook her head and replied, "I can't promise anything. Not until I can figure out exactly what it was I did."

"How long should this take?" Erik demanded impatiently, and she just gave another shrug mind swirling for possible explanations to how she could've possibly screwed up this much.

"Hey man. Back off. She said she'd work on it," Clint snapped jumping back to her defense.

"But in the meantime," Peter trailed off staring down at Erik before his attention flickered back on Pietro and he practically chirped, "Wanna race?"

"Depends," Pietro goaded back with a confident smile and roll of his shoulders, "You wanna lose?"

Peter's smirk seemed to grow even more impish and Wanda figured it was only natural considering neither one of them have ever lost a race before. It was almost tempting to let them do it, her own curiosity to who would be faster blooming inside her chest, but the cold sensation she's felt since Pietro's death still lingered.

"He's going to have to postpone that at the moment," Wanda protested as she stepped forward to latch tightly onto Pietro's wrist, "He still needs lots of rest. You're welcomed to stay, though, while I try to work out on how I'm sending you back."

Peter practically beamed as Pietro made an unhappy sound like an unruly toddler but she'd already lost him once. The promise of a place to stay did seem to alleviate most of Erik's stress as he quickly closed the distance between him and the cottage. She didn't miss the way his hand reached out to grab onto Peter's arm to pull him in after him, like the thought of parting with the boy suddenly seemed to frighten him.

Wanda tightened her grasp on Pietro and figured that she could relate.

"Sorry about the size," she apologized as she forced Pietro back on the bed, stripping the shirt from his chest. She balled it up in a tight wad, making a mental note to burn it later, before she felt Erik's looming presence at her back.

"Don't be," he reassured, reaching out to grasp her elbow in one tight grip before he let go and moved on to make sure Peter didn't break anything.

She glanced back down at Pietro, her brother making a strange face at her. She shrugged in a what-do-you-want-me-to-do gesture, but an affectionate feeling did swell inside her chest when she turned to glance at father and son across the room. The rest of their company still hovered just inside the doorway, like they were unsure of their place.

She figured that, for the time being at the very least, this could work.