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After hour-long phone calls and several meetings, lawyers delivered the news to the Wakanda public relations team. Pardons were granted and flights were arranged to arrive in New York the following week.
In the wake of longer sessions in therapy, Tony finally settled his feelings regarding reopening his home to the Rogues. A name that came up a lot was Rogers. Initially, Tony would spit his name, curse it, and put his guard up at its mere mention. His lawyers also got an earful of his shouting, discussing the specifics of their pardons. However, time heals all wounds, and with patience Tony would learn to swallow the rage.
He was on a downward spiral, everyone could see it. When he would randomly break into panic attacks at the mere thought of living with Rogers and Barnes again, everyone understood. Amid one particularly bad panic attack, Tony’s therapist uttered a phrase that recontextualized everything.
When the Rouges finally landed, Tony didn’t bother to greet them. Staying inside with Peter, they both watched from the windows as the planes touched base and the Rogues emerged. Pepper was down to greet them, she was always the professional. “Greetings, hope the flight was well. I assume you have all gone over your pardons. Regardless, my team and I will review them with you all later this evening,” she said as she guided them all into the lobby.
“For this initial transition, your rooms have been reassigned. I trust you were already briefed. However, your access to the building facilities remains the same. Just please respect that certain members may not want you in their rooms. You’re all adults, I trust this is an easy rule to adhere to.” Curtly and abruptly Pepper concludes. “This is your home again, we ask you to treat it with respect. Your belongings are being transferred to your room now,”
Happy is nearby, and begins to load some of the bags onto a dolly, while the Rogues uncomfortably stare. “Pepper, where’s Tony?” Steve chooses to speak out once a majority of the others have found their way into the compound. Pepper is silent, the clanking of her stilettos coming to a halt as she turns to face Rogers. “Give him time, Steve.”
There’s not much to say past that, just Steve following suit behind the rest. He’s quiet, ever still the soldier observing all spaces he enters. The living area seems to have not changed a bit, still the same old stainless steel and glass tables. Steve notices small changes, so minimal they as well have been futile.
Some LEGO sets built in the corner, a stack of Avengers playing cards, and some spiral notebooks haphazardly thrown on a shelf. A new collection of medical books filled those same shelves, and even some colored mugs can be seen on the kitchen island. Same changes, but changes nonetheless.
Everyone had awkwardly come out of their rooms by the early evening, Wanda and Vision seemingly to have mended rather quickly if their cooking together wasn’t evident enough. Steve sat in a nearby armchair trying to do the daily crossword. Clint and Natasha had some spy movie they were criticizing when a familiar voice came into the room.
“Yeah, but it’s Friday. We can get through at least till Episode IIV, then tomorrow we can see if we’re still–” the boy’s voice cut short upon seeing the two agents on the couch turn towards his direction, phone being lowered.
“Right, I forgot you guys were here,” he murmured, backpedaling into the hallway he just emerged from.
“Wait,” Natasha called out, the television pausing and letting the only noise be the hum of the two self appointed chefs. She eyes the kid up and down, assessing his nervous stance before clearing her throat. “What’s your name?”
The kid has already hung up the phone, now fiddling with it in his hands as he tries to avoid Natasha’s stare. “Peter,” his voice tries to gain back confidence. He doesn't say anything as his body tenses up. With all eyes on him, he coughs before looking around. “You guys seem busy, I’m just going to head back to my room.” He awkwardly turns around, immediately retreating and leaving the others confused.
“Dinner is served,” much needed distraction from Vision.
Following down the halls, Peter turns to the spiral staircase at the end. Descending the steps, Peter knocks on the glass before opening the sliding door. Tony is sitting in his chair, playing some makeshift basketball with Dum-E. It’s endearing and stupid watching the robot rotate its arms to try and get the correct parabola into the hoop. It misses, but not by its own means but rather Tony trying to defend the dunk.
“That’s just playing dirty,” Peter can’t help the chuckle that comes as he moves to stand in the middle of the makeshift court. “Can I talk to you?” It’s a shy mumble, unusual but evident in the way Peter moves to sit on the table across from Tony.
“Did someone give you a hard time?” Another basket is made. “No, it’s just.. Awkward. I’m not sure they know about me.”
Tony drops the paper ball, telling Dum-E to clean up while he turns to face Peter. “Right, yeah I somewhat forgot about that. I’ll talk to them in a bit.”
Nodding, “Right, well… I think Natasha knows. She made a face, and I can kinda read between the lines. The few she said.”
“Alright, I’ll talk to her.” Peter sighs, shoulders releasing tension as he hugs the older man. “Isnt your friend Ted supposed to come over today?”
“Ned, Dad. You’ve known him for years. Besides, I don't think so, given how the living room isn’t really available right now.” Now this won’t stand. Tony has learned to make peace with the Rouges now back in the tower, but it shouldn’t interrupt his kid’s routine, much less sleepover. Peter shouldn’t have to feel nervous in his own home.
“Alright, two things to talk to them about,” a quick pat on the back as Tony turns to lead Peter up the stairs with him. “I heard Vision and the witch made dinner, guess we better go see what kind of potion they made.” Poor joke, but Peter says out of pity. His Dad has a fragile ego anyway, thankfully Peter didn’t inherit it.
The Rouges were already around the table digging in when Peter and Tony appeared. Usually this is where Tony would have let out a snarky comment regarding manners. Instead he cleared his throat, “Do you guys mind if we join? Lasagna smells good.”
The rest of the team stills, Clint still shoveling a large portion into his mouth by the time Vision answers. “Of course Mr. Stark, there is enough for the whole team,” that was the first time they all had been referred to as a team since the events.
Peter just nods, quietly moving to take the seat next to Scott as he hands him a plate. The food does smell really good, and Peter doesn’t hide back the smile he gives Wanda and Vision as he takes the first bite. “This might be the best lasagna I’ve had,” he says with a mouthful as he shovels more onto his plate.
“Woah, I thought the Thanksgiving one was your favorite?” Tony says as Vision hands him his serving, alongside a glass of wine. “Doesn’t matter. Not to spoil the mood, but Peter did have the living room booked this evening,” Tony looks over at the others, who simply perk at him confused.
“He has a sleepover planned, and I’d really hate to ruin Ted’s parents’ plans they had.”
“Ned.”
“Right, Fred,” he chuckles as he looks at Steve. “What, you gonna order us out?” He asks, chuckling, ready to go head for head with Tony on his attitude.
“No, I’m just asking. If not, I’m sure the boys would be okay with the cinema room, but I know they like to make popcorn and other treats during movies. Plus, this table is somewhat like the LEGO table,” Tony doesn’t speak with a tone, just reaching over to steal some food from Peter’s plate, amidst the boy’s protest. “Okay, I won’t lie. This is really good lasagna,” Wanda hesitates a moment before nodding with a hesitant thank you.
“What are you up to?” Steve narrows his eyes at Tony, not buying the act for a second.
“I’m wondering if there’s gonna be enough left over for those who aren’t here. I’m sure Ed would like it. Don’t you think so, Peter?” A nod before Peter then looks back at Tony, “We also forgot to buy the stuff for smores.”
“Right,” a sigh as Tony sits up. “Pardon me, I’ll put this in the dishwasher. Pete, you wanna run to the store with me before Ned gets here?”
“See, you do know his name!” Peter laughs as he finishes the plate of food with a hurry as if someone was gonna steal his plate. When they both clear their own plates and leave, Tony peeps his head back out from the hallway.
“Does anyone need me to pick anything up? Wanda, Vision, you guys don’t need a restock on any food?”
The table has gone quiet, each looking at each other with confused glances. Wanda takes Vision’s hand as she looks at Tony. “Some extra paprika and salt would be nice, Stark.”
Tony gives her a thumbs up as he heads out with Peter, leaving the Rouges with their dinner. They all look at each other, with the exception of Clint who simply goes back to his plate. “Did you all see that?” Steve is the first to speak. They nod in unison, glazing at the empty halfway where both of them had previously stood.
“I think you’ll notice that Mr. Stark has moved on from the incident,” Vision says, just as Pepper makes her way into the room. “Perhaps it would serve you to do the same, Captain.”
As dinner wraps up and the group sits in the conference room, Steve can’t help replaying the interaction he just witnessed. It wasn’t like Tony at all. Never once has he heard Tony not make a witty comment or joke. To give a genuine compliment? To go on a grocery run himself and not send someone? This was out of character. This was not the Tony Stark he knew. Tony would be snappy, sarcastic, blunt. He would have had employees kick them all out of the living and feel insulted he wasn’t called to dinner. He would have eaten maybe two bites of the food before deciding it was below his palate and probably ordering street pizza instead.
Tony would have been there when the plane landed. Nose and chin turned up, smiling as he watched them all onboard the plane with hesitant eyes. He would have moved them to the basement levels, the ones near the ground so they would be hounded by wandering eyes all day. He would have restricted their access levels to that of a mere volunteer.
Instead, Steve would argue he was pleasant.
The pardons weren’t as strict as he would have assumed either. Clint was informed he would not have a criminal record on file, and that Tony had taken care of his family’s rent and expenses, same with Scott. The men were granted permission to return home with the promise of always having a room available in the tower. Bucky would be offered counseling of any form he chose: CBT, IPT, Psychodynamic, Exposure. All expenses covered. Additionally, Wanda had been given an address where, according to Pepper, was a small memorial for Pietro.
There were of course some conditions. They were not to threaten anyone, including each other, on Stark Industries property. If there were to be an excessive display of abilities, it is to be contained and redirected to one of the allocated rooms that were reinforced to sustain the impact. Excessive display of abilities did not include actions that would be classified as ADLs. Floating objects to be closer, phasing through walls, enhanced strength to move furniture, etc. No mind reading, obviously.
“If no one has any more questions, you are all dismissed,” Pepper closes the folio in her lap, giving each member a smile as they walk out with the lawyers trailing behind.
That meeting should have been the most shocking thing Steve has heard all day. He’s gathering his thoughts, reviewing the words of his pardon on the packet he took. It doesn’t make sense, and yet, Tony’s signature and initials dotted every single page.
He settles back into the arm chair, across from Bucky and Scott who are debating whether a chess move is illegal or not. Eventually they get vision to weigh in. It’s unsettling how quickly everyone seems to be readjusting back into the usual routine. Steve thumbs through the packet, trying to make sense of it all when an unfamiliar voice is heard.
“Peter, where’s your Dad?” A man with tall and slim features enters the floor, facial hair similar to Tony’s. Dressed in deep navy, he regards Peter with a smile as he makes himself comfortable in the kitchen, not noticing the Rouges are there.
“He’s giving Pepper those weird berries she likes. Found them on sale,” Peter says casually as he’s ripping the tag off a black Star Wars hoodie he just bought. Stephen joins him by the counter, preparing the kettle.
“Is that for Ned?”
The young boy nods happily, “Yeah! I got us matching hoodies for the marathon tonight.” It seems as if those words reminded Peter of who was in the living room as he awkwardly turns back to face everyone. Following Peter’s line of sight, Stephen notices his mistake.
“Ah, apologies. I did not see you all, I was too preoccupied with the idea of getting my chamomile started. Would any of you like some?”
It’s so odd how much a small gesture can confuse and upset Steve. Since when was Tony Stark surrounded by people considerate enough to offer to make tea for guests?
Clint takes up the offer, mumbling a small appreciation while the other politely declines. Steve continues eyeing the strange man, coming to learn his name would come later. Currently, he’s coming back on the question he asked Peter. Dad? Was his family also in the tower?
It’s all answered when Tony makes it back downstairs. Peter is now clutching onto his Star Wars hoodie he’s changed into with Stephen leaning against the island with a tea mug. Meanwhile, Scott and Bucky were in the middle of a chess match, with Steve watching. Watching the three interact, does the word finally register into its context.
“Never would have taken you as a father,” Steve jokes. It doesn’t land, much less with Scott and Clint who look at him with daggers.
“Yeah, well I wasn’t the best when he was younger. I’m trying to be better.” It’s so direct and genuine that Steve suddenly feels bad. “So, Ned coming?”
Peter nods, moving to grab the extra hoodie that was hiding by the floor. “He’s downstairs actually, I was about to go get him.” Tony waves him off as he makes his way over to see Stephen. There’s no words needed as Stephen hands Tony another mug with a tea bag already inside. “There’s lasagna in the fridge. Really good, you should thank Wanda and Vision for that.”
Nothing was making sense in Steve’s mind. Who the hell was this? This wasn’t the same Tony Stark he knew. This wasn’t the same persona he fought with. Suddenly he’s a father? Suddenly he forgives? Suddenly, Steve isn’t blind as he spots the matching bands on both Tony and the sorcerer's hands, is he engaged? What, he’s giving gracious pardons, complimenting people’s cooking, and hosting sleepovers? No, Steve doesn’t buy this for one second.
Tony’s always been a good actor. That’s how he’s gotten everything. With his charms and acts, Tony Stark always thought he was on top of the world.
“What are you getting at, Stark?” Steve finally confronts him. Imagine nails on chalk board, everyone in the space snapping their heads and falling white to look at Steve.
Clint sips on his tea silently, a quick thank you and a pat on Tony’s back as he heads out. Scott quickly follows suit, some mumbling about his daughter’s bedtime with a mixture of gratitude and apology. Wanda eyes Vision confused, Bucky closes his eyes to focus on the abandoned chess game, and Sam migrates over to keep his hands and attention busy with the rook. Natasha holds her gaze.
“Excuse me?” There’s a small flicker in Tony’s eyes that Steve recognizes. A spark is offense, a comeback burning on his tongue. However, Tony closes his eyes, takes a few breaths, and the look in his eyes are gone. “Do you want to talk somewhere in private?”
“No, I want to talk to you right here, right now.” He’s got that Captain voice on, standing his full six-foot frame. “What’s your game here?”
Tony looks genuinely confused, eyeing Steve up and down before settling on his face. “Steve, are you okay?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you okay? Because to my recollection, the pardons were pretty lenient. If there’s any part that you don’t agree with, I'm open to discussing amendments with you.” There’s no way this is Tony Stark, there is no way Steve is hearing these words.
“That’s not what I’m upset about–”
“Then what is it? Enlighten me, because I’m confused,” finally does there seem to be a small resemblance of past Tony in his voice. “What happened to the man who told me I had issues, that I needed to get help? He was right, and I did that. Got my act together, got sober, and stepped up as a father. I didn’t greet you guys at landing because I knew I would get upset, and that isn’t fair to you guys.”
“Is my getting help and implementing those changes bothering you, Captain?”
He had a knack for annoying others, disrupting anything when the attention wasn’t on him. He thrived for the spotlight, couldn't survive without it. Tony would pick a fight anytime he could. Snicker, taunt, and bait anyone who would bite so he could deliver some one liner with a shit eating grin. No one could usually get through an activity without Tony provoking them in a manner.
“Loosen up Barton, we all know you don’t wear the pants in your marriage!”
“To warm for you Capsicle? A walk in the freezer more homey for you?”
“Too much cardio for you, Sam? I know it’s different from the constant flying you like.”
Yet the minute anyone poked back, all cards were off the table. Tony would lash out, bite out a nasty hit below the belt, and keep going lower until someone stormed out. That, or just go completely emotionally numb and hit back with sarcasm. It was hard to hold a conversation with Tony.
The man had so many issues, it was hard to keep count. He couldn’t take anything seriously, and the minute something got personal he would storm out. No one could do anything around him without getting something snarky in return. They all knew he needed help, but they also know that Tony is too prideful to ever listen or take advice. He carries around his childhood, Afghanistan, Ultron, every single failure in his life is a weight on his shoulders. He’s never done the work to fix that. From alcohol and women, to emotional detachment and a wall of sarcasm, that’s not really much progress.
It all bubbled over when Tony presented the Accords. An insult and a slap in the face wrapped all in a stack of eight by elevens. Steve couldn’t fathom it. Tony Stark was a heartless man, manifestation of the hole in his chest.
Now, Tony is paying for families he doesn’t know. Now, Tony is giving cooking compliments. Now, Tony is going on grocery runs. Now, Tony is planning for a sleepover. Now, Tony is a father. Now, Tony reflects who Steve sees in the mirror.
Used to see.
You can hear a pin drop in the room. A small cough from Sam and the hum of the ceiling fan is the only noise, before the sound of two teenagers bursts through and slices the tension.
“Okay, but we could try to get through at least five bags before we call it. I mean, it’s over 9,00 pieces–” Ned is cut off by Peter’s hand to his chest, halting his movement. With all eyes on them, Peter and Ned awkwardly shuffle through, only stopping for Ned to hand Tony a small bag.
“My parents say thank you for tonight, Mr. Stark,” Tony takes the gift with a smile and a pat on the boy's shoulder. “Go have fun. Us grown ups will clear the living room in a bit for you two.”
The awkward silence resumes, the two Star Wars hoodie kids escaping down into the hallway.
“If me finding peace and trying to make amends upsets you, Rogers, then I pity you for not finding the same.”
There’s not much said after that. What could anyone say? The chess pieces are put away, the television is turned off, the blankets are folded up, the living room empties. Steve stands there, alone with the feeling and empty space around him. It hits him then: He wanted Tony to suffer.
He wanted Tony to feel the betrayal he felt. He wanted Tony to understand what it’s like to lose others. He wanted Tony to see how his actions have consequences, the way Steve’s did when the Avengers split.
The thought… makes Steve sick. Twisted, but maybe he would have been less upset if Tony had been cruel. Welcomed them back with barely any freedom or respect. Then everything Steve thought about Tony would be proved right.
“Excuse me,” his train of thought is interrupted by a small voice. Peter is there, standing awkwardly by the hallway holding a small white paper bag. “I just need to get to the microwave. Popcorn…”
What the hell is Steve doing? “Sorry kid, you guys can have the living room. Didn’t mean to ruin your movie night.”
He didn’t recognize Tony, nor himself. A man of honor is stripped down to someone spiteful. A man of pride boiled down to willingness for change. Maybe everything special about him really came out of a bottle, huh? Maybe he’s always been the same as all of them around him.
Down the hallway and further up the stairs Tony sat on the edge of the bed, sipping his cup of earl grey and watching the muscles in Stephen’s back as he stripped. The quiet ambiance of Stephen going about his nighttime routine helped Tony relax from the last encounter. He should have been better prepared and not caught so off guard. However, he didn’t snap or make a shitty comment, so he would call that a win in his therapist’s eyes.
“You handled that very well, Anthony.” He traces the skin along Stephen’s arm, feeling his pulse and tracing the metallic band on his finger. “You think?”
He replays the conversation in his mind. Surely he could have been kinder, not putting Steve on the spot with that last comment.
“You’ve done the work. You’re doing the work. I see change in you. You’re not perfect, and I know very well that you’re still a petty man. And yet, you’ve applied and lived by the best policy.”
Tony finds his face melting into Stephen’s palm, inhaling his sandalwood scent as the weight of the bed shifts. “And what’s that?”
“That the best revenge is living well.”