It was a ten-hour non-stop flight from Frankfurt to New York on a domestic carrier. Shame, would've taken Iron Man half that time. Half of that if he broke supersonic, but that would be… not very cost effective. Regardless, perks of having his name emblazoned on the side of a private jet? Everybody could fly anytime. Comfortably, too. Tony Stark took the chair closest to the emergency exit and brooded, plain ignored the rest of the Avengers – what was left of them anyway – who were filing wordlessly down the aisle and strapping themselves to their respective seats.
They were miserable.
Cap's fault.
His phone buzzed, and surprise, surprise, it was a message from Spider-Ling. Something about catching Lufthansa's midnight flight from Frankfurt. Great, so were they, the righteous Pro-Reg. He texted Peter back, offering to chauffer him home. It was good manners.
He couldn't tell which felt worse. The incessant pounding in the back of his skull? All the contusions, a fractured left arm, bruised ego – or the sight of Steve's back against him, with fugitive James Barnes by his side? One misstep and Peter could've gotten really hurt. He sicced the kid on Cap, he did. Didn't work out the way he wanted anyway. People – good people – whom he'd called brothers and sister-in-arm were all on their way to the Raft with shackles around their hands.
Like criminals.
"Tony?"
He looked up from his lap at the soft call of his name, and found the Widow staring back at him.
"You OK?"
And then, there was Rhodey. It was touch and go for a while. The docs said, Rhodey at his present state wouldn't survive a long-haul flight. He had to stay. Tony couldn't, because he had duties to perform, a team to protect since Steve Rogers had wilfully abandoned them –
"You're bleeding."
"… Huh?"
"Here." Then, Natasha was kneeling before him, dabbing a wad of tissue paper on his philtrum. A flimsy three-ply that carried the faintest scent of cheap perfume. "It's gonna be a long flight. Get some rest."
He reached up and stilled her by the wrist. Her green eyes snapped back at him, inscrutable the way they always were. At least Steve was an open book.
"Thanks," he said simply, and he took the bloodstained tissue from her hand.
He was, for all intents and purposes, fucked. Now, down to the last sixteen hours before Ross showed up on his doorstep demanding Captain America bound and gagged, choking on a bow. Steve had at the first opportunity taken out all of the trackers in his uniform and the Quinjet he stole. The only way to catch up to him was to persuadethose loyal to him to betray him.
Tony liked his odds.
He slept through most of the ten hours, and when Vision floated over to rouse him, they'd already landed. First thing he did was to excuse himself to the bathroom and waved at everyone – thank you for everything, enjoy the rest of the weekend! – and promptly walked past the gents.
"Mr Stark!"
He had a young Padawan to attend to, after all.
Peter looked well, all things considered. He wondered if like Steve, Peter had super-healing, too. No overt injuries, not even a scratch on his babyface.
"Mr Parker," he clasped his good hand over Peter's shoulder. "Good flight?"
"Yeah! Yeah, absolutely – I'd never flown first class. I'd never flown anywhere, in fact, but I really appreciate you uh, paying for… everything. Thank you."
He'd lost the kid at "Mr Stark" to be honest, but let not that fact discourage him from yapping about Captain America's cool shield, or Ant-man's cool powers, or Barnes' cool metal arm –
"You can keep the suit."
"- which was wicked – wait, what?"
"The suit. It's yours. Keep it."
It took Peter three full seconds before it dawned on him that Tony was serious. Christ, when was he never?
"Oh my God – thank you so much, Mr Stark. I'm not… are you sure?"
"If you ask me that one more time –"
"OK, gotcha." And then, Peter was all silent for a couple of seconds, sporting the widest grin Tony had ever seen on someone sitting next to him. Kid was probably the only person who left the Leipzig/Halle Airport whole and unbroken.
Peter turned fully to face him, and bluntly, he asked, "Am I an Avenger?"
"No." Where did that come from?
"So, to become an Avenger, are there like trials or an interview?"
"You just don't do anything I would do…" This would end badly, he could taste it in the air. "And definitely don't do anything I wouldn't do." Tony stuck out his thumb and index finger, leaving a teeny weeny gap in between, "There's a little grey area in there and that's where you operate. Stay close to the ground."
Tony thought he just died a little on the inside. He shooed Peter out of his car, gave him his blessings, and the soonest he was out of sight, Tony heaved a shuddering sigh, and ran a palm over his eyes.
He held himself together until Happy returned to the driver's seat.
"Where are we going next, Boss?"
"… Was that a mistake?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, and combed his hair with his fingers. God, he had a bump the size of a ping pong ball right above his hairline. "You think I shouldn't have brought the kid along?"
Happy pushed his gear into drive, and said, "The Tower it is. Maybe a warm cup of ginger tea would help you sleep."
Tony purred contently, eyes already slipping to a close. "Sounds good. Who taught you that?"
"… Captain Rogers." And Tony sucked in a deep breath, back straightening as he sat up in his leather cushioned seat. "Sorry, Boss."
"Take me to the Compound."
Happy obliged, though his shoulders seemed somewhat squared the entire journey.
Then, he bade Happy goodbye and gave him the day off. Once locked inside his office, Tony paced the expanse of it enough times that he was burning a path on the carpet. Anytime now, that phone would ring –
Tony picked it up on its first ring.
"Mr Stark," Ross' voice was like sandpaper to his ears. "I hope Captain Rogers and his associates have been secured, as you'd promised thirty-six hours ago."
"… We lost Rogers and Barnes, but the rest have been sent your way at the Raft."
"That wasn't the deal, Stark. Where's Rogers and Barnes?"
And Tony felt like jabbing Ross in his eyes. "They escaped," he admitted bitterly. "I need more time."
"… Meet me at the Raft. You have two hours."
The line was killed, and he slammed the receiver into place. He was all that was left to hold down the fort. And pray tell, what use was a fort but thick walls when its belly had only cobwebs for company?
In young Peter Parker he placed his hope. His wild card. He'd trust Peter's innocence and wide-eyed idealism to steer the ship back on course. Have him restore order on the streets as the nameless and faceless. Slowly and surely, Ross would come to see how useful it was for supers to play vigilante.
Still didn't feel like he was winning.
Of course there would be ramifications to the superhero Civil War. How could things be OK when emCaptain America/em was on the lam? Tony Stark was all that was left to hold down the fort, and even that was a lost cause. The Sokovia Accord needed a foil, and Peter Parker would fit right in.
He'd used the kid once, he'd use him again. All is fair in love and war.
[An alternative take of Spider-Man: Homecoming, from Tony's POV.]
Hello, beautiful people! I just watched Homecoming yesterday, and I can't help but see the events unfurl from Tony's POV. I think the movie pays a better homage to 616!Civil War than Captain America: Civil War, so that's something ^^ This is almost like a 6-part of "deleted scenes" that revolves around Tony, and why I suspect, that Tony "condones" Peter's vigilantism not because he likes the kid, but because Peter is useful as an example of why Sokovia Accord isn't perfect.
Manipulative Tony Stark at its best (if my theory is right XD).
Please enjoy the story!