Team Iron Man story. If you are Team Cap, this story is not for you. Please go back instead of fighting me on it.
So quick warnings, there are minor descriptions of violence (Please note there is torture - physical and psychological - in here. I am not kind to Tony here.). I don't think it's too descriptive, but fanfiction has destroyed my soul, so what do I know? Same thing with a real nasty scene of what is essentially verbal abuse against Tony by the other Avengers near the end (if anyone is worried, it is the video scene). Thought I should mention it, they're a bunch of assholes in it.
So this is what hell is like, Tony thinks idly as he sits among his reinstated teammates. The others are laughing and joking and having a good time. None of them are talking to Tony. None of them are even looking at Tony. It's not surprising, but it doesn't stop his chest from aching. He should be used to this by now. It's been going on for months. Ever sense Thanos arrived and they fought and they won and they have reformed as a team. He should be. But he isn't.
They are still so mad at him. Distrusting. Wary. Disgusted. No one really wants to be near him anymore. They have made their decision very clear – he's sure as hell not the one who got the kids in the divorce. Steve can claim all he wants that the Avenger's are Tony's more than his, they're not. They have made that clear as well. With every sneer, every snub, every sharp remark and every glare they practically scream it. There is nothing within them that welcomes Tony. Nothing.
Sam is all but ignoring his existence. Clint and Wanda never waste an opportunity to makes a snide remark or a superior, gloating look. Natasha is a silent, judging shadow. Bucky generally refuses to be in the same room as him. Steve... well there's no other way to describe it. Steve Rogers – Captain America – is a patronizing asshole. That's a quote too. The symbol of America is sure living up to his country's image. Just not the most flattering side of the coin.
If Steve is to be believed, Tony is suddenly responsible for producing anything and everything for the team's maximum comfort. As if he hadn't been before this mess. It was never so openly stated before, but he was. Oh was he ever. It was a silent expectation on his shoulders. Now there is nothing silent about it. He owes them after all. Their exile was his fault because of 'his' Accords. Because 'he' threw them in jail. Because he hads an understandable breakdown and tried to 'kill' Bucky and Steve.
Ha! As if. Oh, it's not as if his breakdown wasn't real enough. Nor was his rage a thing to be discounted. But if Tony wants someone dead, they are dead. They go down and stay down. He use to be the Merchant of Death for a reason. There are multiple ways to kill a super soldier and he knows them all. He knows his suit is capable of them. He knows, had he broken enough, they would be dead, no questions asked.
Not that any of them would believe him if he told them that. They'd be horrified and suspicious of said knowledge or demand he dumb the suit for the safety of the others. It wouldn't do to have a teammate capable of killing another after all.
And doesn't that leave a bitter taste in his mouth.
Sam cracks another joke and the others burst into laughter. Even Bucky, who is miraculously present, even with Tony here and completely guarded from him, manages to smile. His recovery has been rough, from what he's seen, so this is a good thing. Doesn't make it hurt any less though. He feels sick to his stomach frankly.
He wishes he could quit. Put up the suit and retire for good. Maybe go live on that tropical island he's always dreamed about. Just him, his tools and his bots. Peace. God, but that sounds wonderful. They don't need him here. They don't want him here. Everyone would be happier without him. Unfortunately he can't quit. He's not allowed.
It was written into the pardons that Tony needed to be present and active for the team to continue. As if he will be a good influence on the others. Since he signed the Accords the first time around, he can add balance and reason to the team. They even made him the goddamn team leader. Like that lasted any longer than the first battle. Tony may be the leader of his team, but Steve is the leader of his own. Three guesses of who is on which team. Even Vision had gone to the dark side, having patched things over with Wanda. Somehow.
And god does Tony not want to know how. Or why – even if that part is more than a bit... obvious now. Might have something to do with the ways Wanda reacted when Thanos tried to take the Mind Stone. Messy. And scary. If he needed a reminder of why her magic terrified him, he got one. He still has nightmares of that. No control his fucking ass. Maybe no control with anything that doesn't involve manipulation or high levels of violence. Take it the fucker grew the limbs back. But how they got taken off? Tony lives in fear that one mission something might 'accidentally' happen to him. After all, the 28 year old is 'just a kid'. She 'can't help it'. Yeah. Right.
And seeing Vision with her feels like another stab to the chest. Sure, they were never really close. It hurt too much to be around the android. He reminds Tony too much of JARVIS, yet not enough. He was all he had left of the AI. And to see him cuddling up with someone who would happily kill him, if given the chance? Well, he's glad he's happy. That's what every parent wants right? Even if she is a psycho.
It's times like this he misses Rhodey like a limb. But his platypus isn't able to do this anymore, True, Tony perfected the exoskeleton legs and they fought side by side against Thanos. But after that? Rhodey retired and Tony can't blame him, even if he resents him. Just a little bit. He is fine. He can go. He may have felt guilty about leaving, but once Tony knew what he wanted, he wasn't going to force his best friend to stay just for him. He's tries not to be too selfish after all, no matter what the others think of him.
Tony though, Tony is tired. God is he tired. It feels as if the world is on his shoulders. He is Atlas, holding up the world. And if he isn't damn sick of being comparable to tragic Greek figures as well. First Cassandra, now Atlas. It doesn't say much for his life. Then again, his life doesn't say much for his life, so there's that.
It seems as if he has been fighting since the day he was born. There was always something he tried so hard to earn, but was never able to – his Father's love, the team's respect, a place to fit in, people to call his own. Whatever he did, it was never enough. He always did something wrong to fuck it up. No one ever wanted him. They wanted his money, his tech, his sexual favors, his brain, but not just Tony himself. Never just Tony. Hell, he doesn't even know who that is. He's been playing parts for so long he lost track of everything else along the way.
He knows he sounds pathetic, whining about this in his head the way he is, but he can't help it. He is just so tired of it all. It feels as if he has been abandoned even by the people who seemed to give a shit about him – Pepper is busy being CEO and helping with the battle's aftermath; Happy is with Pepper; Rhodey quit after all the shit they both went through; Bruce finally showed back up with Thor of all people, but then fucked back to Asgard when the god did. There's no one else. He use to think the team fell into that category, but he had been so wrong it's not even funny. A man with everything and nothing, as Yinsen once said.
He barely contains a flinch, thinking about the man. Not that anyone would notice. Or care, if they did. But it hurts. He said not to waste his life. Tony is positive he failed in that regard. And failed spectacularly at that. Nothing he did was ever enough. Nothing he will do is ever going to be enough. He will waste his life until the day he dies – just in a different way than before.
When he slips away, no one notices. They are too busy having fun to notice that storm cloud leave. No, that's not right. People notice when they leave because that means they can go outside again. A ghost. That's what he is. A ghost who doesn't know how to die. Who doesn't know he's already dead.
The lights come on the second he walks into the workshop. "Welcome home Boss," FRIDAY says.
"Thanks baby girl, good to be back," he croaks out, voice hoarse from disuse. He musters up a smile for his AI who has been trying so hard. No need to take his problems out on her.
Dum-E races over to greet him while the other two beep from their charging station.
"Hey buddy, did you miss your Daddy that much?" he croons as he pets the bot's frame.
"We all miss you when you are away Boss," FRIDAY informs him.
Tony thinks he might cry. There are so many things wrong with this picture. For one thing, this is the most friendly interaction he has had in months. The only interaction if you don't count rude comments and accusing glares. Which is just sad. His bots are the only ones who can stand him anymore. And he built them.
For another, even the word 'home' is enough to make tears form in his eyes. Home. It's what he always wanted, but never seems to have. That old saying ;A house in not a home' is definitely one of the many mottoes in his life. The workshop is the only place he feels safe anymore. No one comes here to bother him or yell at him or get their disappointment all over him. Safe. Too bad the safety is an illusion.
Because it's also his prison.
Going over to his chair, he collapses with a sigh. A wave of his hand brings his to-do list up. He winces at the sight of it. Damn is it going to take him forever to finish everything. Between what Pepper needs and the team demands, there's no ways to complete everything by the deadlines. It's impossible, even for him. Someone is going to end up pissed. And when someone is pissed, they take it out on him. Pepper usually ends up with the short stick simply because she is the least likely person to send him into a panic attack. Doesn't mean she's never managed before, but statistically it's unlikely. Then again, his nerves are so strung out that almost anything can set him off these days. Hell, even the bots did one time and wasn't that a mess?
Thankfully he has managed to hide them from the rest of the team so far. He can't imagine the mockery he would have to endure if they found out. The weakest link just keeps getting weaker. Poor little rich boy can't handle the real world. Daddy not here to protect you anymore? Oh the possibilities are endless. They might even use it to try and get him off the team. Hell, if Tony thought that would work, he would do it himself at this point. But there is no guarantee and it's not worth the humiliation to try.
Scanning the list, he picks out Clint's new arrows and gets to work. At least this way he isn't dancing around about a hundred landmines to get the job done. Clint's hatred is clean and simple at least. It is always a nightmare when Natasha wants something – is she going to use it on him? Or Wanda. She 'requests' things now. Is she going to hurt him if it isn't perfect? At least body armour is usually safe. Lang, when he's around, doesn't let him near the suit at all. And Sam watches him like a hawk – pun intended – if Redwing ever sustains damage he can't fix himself.
Still, all of it is infinitely better than when he has to work on something for Bucky. When they first came back, Steve demanded he fix Bucky. He needed BARF and he needed a new arm. Not that he trusted Tony not to fuck it up in some ways. But BARF was already publicly presented. As for the arm – Steve sent the blueprints to Wakanda to be looked over and then the arm itself. Each new repair or update is a combination of heavy suspicion and supreme entitlement. It was Tony's fault after all, so Tony needed to fix it. Besides, everyone knows Stark tech is the best.
The only one who he is happy to create anything for is Peter. And even that is starting to be a strain. He is always updating the suit, making sure he as safe as possible. Some of his finest work goes into that suit. But he still won't let him join the team. No yet. Not officially. Not until he is eighteen. It infuriates Peter to no end. He still has two years left to go. Two years and he has already helped them defeat Thanos. He's frustrated. And it isn't as if Tony doesn't understand that. He does. God, does he ever. But he can't bare to lose him. Can't see him hurt or, the ultimate worse, dead.
And he's explained this to Peter. They have sat down and had a conversation about it. Hell, multiple conversations. That still doesn't make it easier for him. Even Tony's solemn oath that on his eighteenth birthday he is in. Official. There is a contract all planned out for him to read and sign. Even then, the wait is hard.
Peter is just so good. Too good. All he wants to do is help people. Use his powers to keep the world safe. And that is such a pure and innocent thing to want. Uncomplicated. Too bad the real world never works out that way. He doesn't want Peter to experience that any sooner than he has to. So he builds his suits to keep him safe and puts up with teenage frustrations.
He doesn't mean it. Tony knows he never means the words he shouts at him in anger. Doesn't mean they are any easier to bare. Especially when they pile on top of everything the team says to him.
He is just so tired of everything. But when has that ever mattered? He pushes on.
-xxx-
When they take him, it isn't a battle. There is no warning, no signal, no time to react. One second Tony is walking down the street to his favorite cafe. The next is nothing. It happens in a blink of an eye. There isn't time to even startle or scream. Around him, people go on with their day without pause. No one notices a thing.
-xxx-
Tony wakes up in a cell. The transition from one location to another is so startling that he cannot suppress his initial flinch. He freezes, holding his breath, but nothing happens. No sound, no motion, no nothing that indicates that his captors are nearby. His heart picks up as he looks around. The room is a dull white, with the only feature to break the blandness is the metal door. There is a clean mattress on the floor with a white blanket. The lighting is odd. Clearly not fluorescent. It's not bright enough to hurt his eyes, nor dim enough not to see clearly.
Sitting up cautiously, he categorizes his body. Nothing. There is no ache on his head, so they didn't physically knock him out. But neither is his brain fuzzy or slow as if they drugged him either. In fact, there are no signs at all that he has been kidnapped. God knows Tony has gone through that enough times to know them all by now. It doesn't even feel as if he lost any time. As if he closed his eyes on the street and opened them in this cell. And that is enough to scare the shit out of Tony, even if he'll never admit it.
He has been dealing with this kind of shit long before Afghanistan. That was simply the worst experience, not the first. Howard made a point of letting him know just how valuable he was to a certain set of people. Mainly for ransom of course. But Howard Stark did not pay ransom. Not for anyone. Certainly not for his worthless brat of a kid who was always getting in the way. And he made sure Tony knew that too. So he knows how to handle situations like this. He does. All he needs to do is stay calm and wait. They'll mess up somewhere. They always do.
Still, this knowledge doesn't keep Tony from feeling worried. Obviously these kidnappers are a cut above the rest. There is nothing useful in the room, nor on him. Even the lights in the cell can't help him. Not only can he not reach them, they don't look like any light he has ever seen. There's no bulbs, no coverings, nothing. They are just... light, sitting in the ceiling. It makes him uneasy in a way that he isn't in a hurry to analyze just yet.
He's been stripped of anything he could possibly use, even if they left his boxers and AC/DC shirt on him. So – definitely professional. Doesn't mean he can't beat them. Tony Stark bows to no one.
Pep talk given, he makes himself comfortable sitting on the mattress and waits.
They keep him waiting for a long time. Tony isn't sure how long. Sure, his internal clock is good, but even that takes cues from his environment, no matter how small. Here? Here nothing changes. The lighting stays on, never dimming or going out. No one brings him any food or water. The temperature stays pleasantly the same. There's not anything present to mark the passage of time.
The only thing that he has to go by is his own body. When his stomach starts growling, he knows it's been hours at least. Normally he can go longer, but he hadn't eaten in a couple of days. He doesn't have much of an appetite anymore. But he had been on the way to get something when they grabbed him, so. The real indication is when he has to go to the bathroom. He has been drinking, mainly thanks to Dum-E's smoothies. His bot has been working so hard to take care of him. It makes something in his chest ache. It should be the other way around. He's technically the parent in this scenario. It shouldn't surprise him that he is a shit Dad.
But bathroom – it's a problem. He has to go and there's not even a handy bucket or hole in the ground for him to use. How inconsiderate. At least in the cave, when he had to go, it didn't matter so much. It was larger, already in a shitty condition and Yinsen was in the same boat. Here the cell is pristine, with no clear ventilation system. The results are going to be... unpleasant if something doesn't happen soon.
He closes his eyes and meditates, sending his mind away from his body. It is a combination of actual meditation and something Steph showed him when they worked together. He had come across Tony in the middle of a pretty bad panic attack in an out of the way room. Instead of mocking him or making a big deal out of it, he helped. He mentioned his own PTSD – and what a nightmare that sounded like – and helped. Take it, Tony almost punched him when he was told it was a technique to practice magic – sending your spirit to another dimension – but that's because magic is a trigger of his. Thanks so much Wanda dear.
Boy was Steph pissed when he learned about that. It took a lot of fast talking on Tony's part for him not to go after her for that. Apparently mind raping is a huge no-no in the magic community. The only reason he dropped it is because they did need her at the time. And that would have started a fight they couldn't have afforded just then. Still, his offer still stands. All he has to do is say the word. He's definitely on Tony's favorite list.
So he sends his mind away. He is no longer in his creepy cell, but in his shop. No one can hurt him in his workshop. No one can touch him. He is invincible there, surrounded by his tech and his bots. Unstoppable. The master of his domain.
There's a part of him that wishes he could do magic. Then he could portal out of here. Or not. It's unlikely he would have been allowed his sling ring. What a stupid thing. Who the hell decided you needed a tool to work magic? At least in Harry Potter there was a chance of wandless magic. But oh no, not here. Fuck his life. And magic. And Steph right now – literally as well as not, his Cool Facial Hair Bro got charm. Ha! Pun totally intended.
He's not sure how long he stays in that suspended state when the subtle noise of the door closing draws his attention him back to his body. He is stiff and sore and damn does he have to go to the bathroom, but he pushes all that aside for now. It's not important, not at the moment. He opens his eyes and instantly suppresses the urge to start cussing. Aliens. Fucking aliens have kidnapped him. Of course they have. Because 85% of his life's problems are because of aliens. First Loki, then the Chitauri, then Thanos and his crowd. Yeah, it got real old real fast.
This specific variety looks like a lizard and a donkey mated and then decided it wanted to be a real boy. Green skin, yellow eyes and ears that would put said donkey to shame – all wrapped up in a nice humanoid form. It clashes horribly with the charming purple jumpsuit they obviously think is the height of fashion. Fuck. There are three of them standing in the doorway. The one in the middle is clearly the leader and the one who greets him. "Tony Stark," it – he – states. His voice is low and gravelly.
"That's me. The one and only," Tony says, "I must say, you have stunning accommodations here. Seriously. I've had to stay in some real dumps before, but this is almost roomy." Naturally he has to start sassing right away. If anyone else were here with him, they'd either be rolling their eyes or telling him to shut up. No one seems to realize that it serves a purpose. First of all, it's a way to judge his captors. How will they respond? How violent are they? How in control of the situation/ their emotions? Secondly, it's his primary coping mechanism. How so few people have figured that out is beyond him, but it's true. Sass and humor is the way he deals with shit. Only no one will let him have it. Assholes.
"I see our data was correct," the leader says.
Oh shit, that doesn't sound good. "And what data would that be?"
"That you are incapable of shutting your mouth and have little to no sense of self-preservation. I suppose that means our other data is correct as well. Fortunately we have come prepared for such."
Double shit. "Sounds kinky. Do I get a safe word?"
There is no reply. Not a verbal one anyways, but the two who had been silent until now move towards him. He briefly considers fighting them, taking out their leader and making a break for it. But he doesn't have enough information to go on to succeed, including one very important thing – how strong are they? So he puts up a minimal struggle as they drag him off the bed and into the center of the floor. They force his hands open and then he is screaming.
He doesn't mean to. That is his first rule of kidnapping – don't scream. Don't give them what they want. They always want a reaction, confirmation of his pain, so don't give them one.
But this time he can't help himself. They are forcing him to hold white hot metal in his hands. Not red hot. That would be bad enough. Everyone always talks about hot metal and how not to touch it when it's red. But they always seem to forget that isn't the worst of it. After red comes white. He's burned himself on red before, but never white. Now his hands are trapped around it as he thrashes and jerks uselessly.
The pain is excruciating. It's up there with the first installation of his arc reactor. It's not just the pain though. It's the shock of it. From zero to a thousand with no warning. He's not prepared at all. It's terror because not his hands. He is an engineer. He has been building practically since the day he was born. It was that ability that got him out before.
Now they are burning. Pain rips through his entire body as the scent of burnt flesh fills the room. He has no idea how long it goes on. How long they hold him there. Through it all the only sound is his screaming. They don't say anything, they don't smirk or sneer or laugh. They don't even seem to blink. All they do is hold him, watching blankly.
Finally, after an eternity, they let go. He drops to the floor with a thud, not having the strength to keep himself up. He bites his tongue to keep the whimpers from escaping his mouth. Determinedly avoiding the sight of his hands, he glares up at the leader. The effect most likely falls short, but it is the thought that counts. And he has a lot of thoughts. If looks could kill, the assholes wouldn't just be dead. They'd be ashes in the wind.
"You see Tony Stark," the leader says calmly, "we have learned from those who came before us. We know what you do to those who take you. So we have eliminated the problem. Without your hands you cannot escape. We watch. We learn. We are superior."
"What do you want?" Tony asks, gritting his teeth.
"Why Tony Stark, I thought that would be obvious. We want your world."
"You won't get away with this. My team will stop you." There is more pain, this time in his heart than in his hands, to call the team his. They're not his team. They haven't been for a long time now. Maybe they never were to begin with. He was always the odd man out after all. But he'll be damned if he lets this fucker know that.
But the leader only laughs. "Oh Tony Stark, how will they fight when they don't know an enemy is among them?" The meaning is clear when he shifts into Tony, smirking down at him.
A chill runs down his spine. "That will never work. The team will know." The words taste like ash in his mouth. Because, no. No the team won't know. Forget being replaced, he could disappear and the team wouldn't notice until they couldn't track him down and demand something they want.
"Will they?" the leader asks as if he knows this. Who knows, maybe he does. He is still wearing Tony's face, looking innocent yet condescending.
"I would wish you a good life Tony Stark, but you will not be the one living it." They turn and exit. The closing of the door sounds like a death sentence.
Tony waits for long minutes, making sure they are gone before he gathers his courage and looks at his hands. Muscle and bone is visible through the palms and fingers. His skin, the part that hasn't been burnt off, is coal black and brittle looking. Any place fortunate enough not to come into direct contact is a bright red. He's no medical expert, but it doesn't take a genius to know these are third degree burns. The only part of his hands that are untouched are his thumps. They forced them outside the fist, not inside, thank fuck. The only thing he has going for him right now.
It doesn't take long before he has to turn away. The sight is gruesome and depressing all at once. Trying to clutch his hands about his him screaming in agony. There's a part of his brain that is urging him on. Something about keeping burns moist. Well, with the blood that is sluggishly leaking out, that shouldn't be a problem. It's when it stops that he'll have to do something. Hopefully it doesn't stop for a while because the main part of his brain is focused on how much pain he is in. Clenching his teeth he looks down again and about gives in to the urge to cry. Because, adding insult to injury, he has finally lost the battle with his bladder. His boxers are soaked and he is laying in a puddle of piss.
He drags himself out of it and goes, not to the clean mattress, but to the nearest corner, curling up before he gives into the blackness that wants to claim him. Unconsciousness sounds like a blessing right now. He is kidnapped, heavily injured, and his only hope of rescue is a team that hates him realizing he has been replaced by a shape shifting alien who wants to take over the world.
Fuck his life.
He passes out.
-xxx-
When he wakes up again, he doesn't have that blessed moment of obliviousness before he remembers the shit he is in. Mainly because his hands are still in agony. It's gone from a blazing agony to a dull one, but it is still almost crippling nonetheless. He remembers having to deal with the pain right after Yinsen shoved the electromagnet in his chest. Focusing on the memory of dealing with it, he begins the process all over again. He'd like to think this time is better – no unexpected body modifications – but it isn't.
For one thing, he had Yinsen last time. True, they were never particularly close. Not in the normal way. He's pretty sure Yinsen died thinking Tony was a selfish jackass, if a brilliant, lost one. But the threat of death and desperate need to escape forms strange bonds between people. You might hate the person you are stuck with, yet protect them with your life.
For another thing, he could still build. They wanted him to make the Jericho so they left him able to do so. This time, they don't need his brain or his money or anything else from him. They just need him out of the way. And the best way to do that is to make sure he can't escape. Forget simply denying him of tools. This way he can't work at all. If he doesn't get them treated soon, will he be able to use them again?
That thought is what propels him into action. Using teeth and painful fingers, he begins to rip the cleanest part of his shirt into pieces. That part he does remember – the importance of clean rags. That means his sleeves right now. He bite through his tongue as he works, but slowly he manages. The bleeding has stopped for the most part, so now he needs to wrap them. Fuck.
Just think of it though. If he survives this experience, he'll have the perfect excuse to quit. What use is he if he can't provide for the team's every wish and command? And if that doesn't work, he'll pull the PTSD card unashamedly. It's not like after Afghanistan when he had to appear fine to keep the Company in the right direction. Now it is firmly where he wants it. Pepper is doing a fabulous job running it and he can't see that changing. And the team doesn't need him present for continued funding. He can do that anywhere.
Now all he has to do is live. Keep breathing, keep thinking, find a way to endure this until it ends. What good is escape if he's not sane enough to enjoy it? There has to be a way out of this. He is Tony fucking Stark, impossible isn't in his vocabulary. He looks at it and laughs. He has achieved things people can only hope to dream of. The thought hasn't even crossed their minds and he has already made it. There is a way out of here because he is too stubborn to admit defeat.
Stark men are made of iron.
And Tony? Tony is made of diamond.
The world may be out to crush him, but that much pressure hasn't destroyed him. Instead he simply shines bright like the sun in the middle of the night sky. The harder they push, the more he shines. Knock him down and he'll rise back up, brighter than ever.
Or so he tells himself anyways. Because while he always gets back up, the doesn't mean he is unscratched. There are cracks and fractures running all through him. Sure, to some, that makes the stone interesting. But most will declare it less valuable. Diamond may be the hardest gem, but that doesn't mean you can't shatter it. Hit it at just the right spot and it will fall apart. And right now, that is exactly what he feels like. He is one hit away from being shattered. Worse yet, he has a sinking feeling that these aliens have the right tools to achieve the impossible – break Tony Stark.
Then again, is it possible to break something that is already broken? Because, according to Tony, he has been broken for a long time now. Sometimes he thinks he left a part of himself in that cave and he is never getting it back. Or maybe he had been born broken and it just took that long for him to realize it. It would explain a lot of things. And certainly he never felt whole before, growing up.
He shakes his head, willing these thoughts away. The last thing he needs to do right now is think about that too much. It won't do him any good. He needs to keep his wits about him if he is going to escape. And he will escape, one way or another. He refuses to give the assholes the satisfaction.
Someone will notice something. If not the team, then Rhodey, Peter or hell, even the bots. Tony refuses to believe they have studied him that well to fool everyone he knows. Maybe he'll get lucky and Steph will sense something's wrong with his voodoo – if he ever gets time to visit that is. He hates relying on others – especially since Peter is a kid and Rhodey is retired – but right now that is his best option. He knows if the others think something is wrong they'll move heaven and hell to find out the truth. He hates being a burden, but at the same time he has never been given anything to doubt their loyalty.
As soon as they realize something is up, they'll start searching. They'll find him.
In the meantime, he might as well give them some kind of help – somehow. He refuses to play the damsel in distress here, waiting for his Prince to save him. He's no one's Princess.
Unfortunately there isn't much he can do right now. Not with his hands fucked up the way they are and no tools to work with. Damn Pinocchio rejects for being right. Tony's hands are his greatest weapon along with his brain. Taking one of those things out of the equation will definitely slow him down.
Not stop though. Never stop. Fuck stopping, that is a weakness. Tony is not weak.
Stark men are made of iron.
Tony is made of diamond.
He passes out again
-xxx-
The next time Tony wakes up, the pain is more manageable. Mainly because they have started to go numb. Something tells him that isn't a good sign, but there's not much he can do at this point. Without supplies his hands are just going to keep getting fucked. At least the bandages are still tight around them. Good. He has a limited supply of shirt, he can't keep changing them too frequently.
Then he notices the smell and grimaces. Looking down only confirms it. Yes, he lost control of his bladder again. This is getting to be a problem as well as humiliating. He scowls as his boxers cling to him even as he moves away. This is exactly why he didn't want to lay on the mattress. It's a taunt all on it's own. It's so white and so clean that he doesn't want to get piss all over it. He's a grown man for fucks sake. He shouldn't be having this problem. He should have more control damn it.
He bumps his hands and holds back a yelp. Right, so they still hurt like a bitch if he isn't careful. Got it. Part of him, the part that has Steph on the mind right now, laughs at the irony of it. People had commented before, complained more like, about how similar they were. It wasn't meant to be a compliment, even if they took it as one. Now their facial hair isn't the only thing they are going to share. He chokes out a laugh that is more of a sob than a sound of amusement. Fuck – his hands. But it gives him hope too. Steph is doing ok without them. Take it, he had to learn magic to do so and that's not something Tony really wants to do. It's still a bit of a trigger for him, even after all the time he has spent around magic preparing for the fight.
Still, if learning magic is the only way, he'll do it.
Or he can create something instead. He might need help building it, but after that he should be fine. He built Rhodey braces for his legs. He built Barnes a new arm. Why can't he build himself new hands? There's no reason why not. If anything, he can take a trip to Wakanda after this for help. He's never really warmed up to T'Challa, but he likes his sister. Shuri is a genius in her own right. She might even be smarter than Tony and he isn't afraid to admit it.
It was Shuri who he worked with the first time he built Barnes' arm. She even added a few things he hadn't thought of yet. So he knows she can do it and she'll enjoy it. Better yet, she seems to be able to put up with Tony, even if she snarks at him when he annoys her too much. Fair enough, he tends to annoy everyone. Point is, she'll help him if he needs it.
Those thoughts in mind, he begins mentally building the gauntlets. Several ideas come to mind almost immediately and he starts sorting through them, noting what will and what won't work. It's calming, even if the reason behind it is not. Creating has always had that effect on him. Once he gets in the zone, he can work for hours, letting his mind fly. People have always scolded him for doing that. Apparently getting an idea and then disappearing for a week while you make it isn't healthy. Who knew?
And in one way, he gets it. He really does. From a normal standpoint, he has to seem horribly neglectful to himself. But, to him, this is just the way his mind works. Why stop if it means losing his idea? Why eat real food when Dum-E makes excellent smoothies – for the most part – or FRIDAY can order in? JARVIS use to be the master at that. He'd order something Tony could eat one handed and have it delivered, either by Pepper, Rhodey or the AI himself in a suit. Then he'd set it next to Tony and he'd end up eating it without realizing it.
The thought of JARVIS is still a stab to the heart, even after all this time. His AI was his best friend after all. Even when everyone else left him or doubted him or got sick of him, JARVIS was there. JARVIS had never abandoned him once. He had died protecting Tony – just one more person on the list.
He hates when other people die for him. He always wants to scream. To shake them and make them see it isn't worth it. He isn't worth it. They are the ones worth so much more than Tony will ever be. Because they are strong and good and everything he isn't. He's known all his life that he isn't worth it, yet people keep dying.
Merchant of Death indeed.
He lets out a growl when he realizes what direction his thoughts have taken. Again. He can't let this keep happening. Too much and he just might decide to fuck it and give up. He's been so tired for so long that the temptation might be too great for him to resist. Indulging in these thoughts when he is in the Compound or workshop is one thing. But here – with no real plan of escape, with pain and humiliation and fear – is the last place he should be thinking like this. He promised himself never to let the kidnappers win a long time ago. He doesn't intend to break it now.
Fuck aliens. And fuck shapeshifters too. He's sick of them all While he's sure – he knows for a fact actually, just look at the Guardians – that there are some perfectly nice and welcoming aliens out there, those never seem to be the ones he runs into. The Guardians are the exception, not the rule. Hell, he's even pissed at Thor frankly. He gets that he has a Kingdom to rule – and before was the Crown Prince of said Kingdom – but he never seemed fully with them even when he was here. Which is almost a contradiction because Thor is a 'live in the moment' kind of guy. And he did sincerely like him. But sometimes he also wanted to punch him. And ever since Thanos, he hasn't heard a peep from him.
Naturally thinking of shapeshifters and Thor leads tony's thoughts straight to Loki. A fond smile forms when he thinks of him. True, he is a pain in the ass and a manipulative bastard besides, but there is also something endearing about him. Maybe it's their similar natures. Maybe it's the way their conversations flow, no drag or confusion from the other. Maybe it's just because they're both little shits. Whatever it is, Tony found himself working rather well with the other.
Not that the team was impressed by this. They saw it as further sign that he had 'gone to the fucking dark side' as Clint had put it. But no one else had been willing to work with him. Or, no one but Thor, but considering Loki has a habit of stabbing him when annoyed, Tony didn't think they would be too productive working with each other constantly. So Tony had sucked it up, put on his big boy pants and worked with the Trickster. Funny how well that went.
Also funny how Tony got stuck working with the magic users during their preparations. He was the one who hated magic after all. There's a sneaking suspicion in his head that that's exactly why it happen that way. The team worked with T'Challa, Wakanda in general and the Guardians of the Galaxy for the most part. Tony, on the other hand, was usually either with Steph or Loki. Not at the same time though, god forbid. Those two did not get along. Because why make Tony's life easier?
But both of them had shown such consideration, respect and – dare he say – affection for him. It was... odd. He's not use to working with people who actually like him. Barely tolerate him is more like it, if not openly despise him. Steph and Loki, though, had a habit of becoming very protective of him very quickly. It was like Rhodey... only Rhodey didn't dismember/vanish those that hurt him into another dimension. Mainly because he couldn't, but the thought is there.
Too bad nothing could come of it. Steph had his responsibilities and Tony had his and Loki... Loki decided to improvise the plan, seemingly betray them to Thanos before betraying Thanos himself and then fucking off to who knows where. The only reason anyone still believes he is alive is because he is just as hard to kill as Tony is.
Steph was so pissed about it, he owed Tony twenty bucks. Silly him for thinking Loki would only betray them without screwing Thanos over too. Right. Because if there is one thing Tony has learned, it is that Loki bows to no one. For him to bow to Thanos is... suspicious. As well as alarming, if Tony thinks too hard on it. He's seen what kind of power both of them had after all. He never asked, though, but he never really felt the need to.
Not that any of that matters now. Right now what matters is getting out of here. Somehow. He's starting to worry that they intend to forget about him now that the damage has been done. He has no idea how long he has been here, but he is past the point of shaky and onto getting too weak to move. And dehydrated. He is definitely dehydrated by now. Or close to it. He's not in a hurry to try and find out. He has a sneaking suspicion that the room would start to spin if he tried to stand.
It would make sense if that were their plan, but why burn Tony's hands to begin with then? To make sure? To prove a point? Or do they have more planned and are just waiting to make sure he doesn't have the strength as well as the skills to do anything? A motivation beyond 'I want to rule the world' would be nice.
Personally Tony never understood the sentiment. Yeah, the power would be nice, but what about all the work that comes with it? The paperwork alone would drive him mad. He'd end up giving it to Pepper by the end of the week.
Oh god, Pep. He hopes she's going to be ok through all of this. True while most of their interactions are over the phone these days due to his schedule, that doesn't mean they never see each other. Take it Pepper usually comes to the Compound when he is too behind on SI business, but it still counts. What if she yells at the impostor and he hurts her? He'd never forgive himself. And his Company, oh damn. He's still the head of R&D as well as majority shareholder. What if it gets fucked up?
But no. If they want everyone to believe the impostor is really Tony than he can't make too many changes that are out of character before someone gets suspicious. Yet.
Damn it, he has to get out of here. Too many things are at stake for him not to.
But then he passes out again.
-xxx-
Tony wakes to painful hands and an aching head. Yup, there's that hunger induced headache. For all everyone seems to assume he never eats, he does, if only to avoid these. Bitch it hurts. Not as bad as his hands obviously, but it's no walk in the park either. Trying to move his hands has him biting back a curse. Alright, so not only is that aching numbness getting worse, they have now locked up. Fan-fucking-tastic. He should probably change the bandages on them and this is going to make everything so much more fun.
That is when his hosts finally decide to show up. He has no idea if they are the same ones as last time because they all look the same to him. Same formation though, with a leader and two henchmen. He struggles to sit up, feeling dizzy.
"Greetings Tony Stark," the leader says. "We are here to tell you thus far, our mission has been a complete success. Our comrade has entered your ranks and none have suspected anything at all. In fact," he gives a decidedly nasty smile, "I dare say they like your replacement better."
"Liar," Tony accuses hoarsely, "no one can copy me perfectly. I'm too special of a snowflake."
"Who said anything about copying you? I told you before, we watch and we learn. Acting exactly as you had would defeat the purpose. None of your teammates like you after all. Why act like someone they hate?"
"You think you can fool the team?"
"Oh Tony Stark, we don't think, we know. It has already been happening after all. Would you care to see?" Without waiting for a reply, a picture appears on the wall. It looks like something from a projector, only there is no visible equipment. Damn alien tech. "We will leave you alone to view the inevitable." The door closes, but Tony barely hears it. He is too busy staring at the picture.
It is a picture of the team, current going by the way everyone is dressed and looks, gathered around the table, obviously happy. Nothing unusual about that. What is unusual, what makes Tony sick , is that the impostor is right there with them, smiling alongside them. It makes his heart ache anew when he shouldn't. This is what he wants. For months now, he has been wishing that they could go back before all this shit happened and be a family again. And now, here is that exact wish, except it's not him. It's someone else wearing his face.
No need to get ahead of himself though. It's just a picture. Pictures can be edited. This is not real proof, it's something to fuck with him. It has to be. There's no way the team is fooled so easily. Is there? They know what Tony is really like. Don't they? But then the picture starts moving and Tony realizes that it is actually a recording.
"And then," the impostor says, grinning, "she says, 'Excuse me Sir, but do you have a license to drive that llama down a two lane road?'"
Everyone practically howls with laughter.
"So of course I say 'Why Officer of course I do. Unfortunately I left them in my other pants. You might want to check the fountain in the square.' Damn was Pepper pissed when she bailed me out of that one."
He's telling the llama story? He's telling the llama story?! Why on Earth is he telling that story of all stories? It's hardly Tony's proudest moment. He still doesn't remember much of that night. Bad enough that he was drunk off his ass, it was later found out that someone spiked his drink. It didn't work the way it should have, obviously, but there's a reason Tony was naked. Afterwards, Rhodey and Pepper were sworn to silence. Not that it stopped the papers, but it still helped to know that they would never bring it up again. Still no idea how he got that llama either.
But his question is answered when Clint says, "Damn Stark and here I thought your irresponsible ass couldn't top some of the stunts you pulled on the team. Miss having a rich Daddy to bail you out of trouble?"
The impostor laughs cheerfully, "You know it birdbrain."
"Of course then he grew up to be a murderer," Wanda says.
"I do so look good in red. It's my signature color after all," he winks.
Shockingly Wanda smirks, almost... playfully it looks like.
What the fuck? Tony thinks he is going to be sick.
"I'm surprised your ego can survive you admitting you made a mistake. Although it certainly took you long enough to apologize," Natasha says.
"Why Spidey, I'm hurt. What do you take me for?"
"A monster?" Wanda answers sweetly.
"Not just any monster, but the biggest, prettiest monster you have ever seen. Why do you think I built the Tower?"
"To compensate for something else?" Clint asks.
The impostor gasps. "Me? Steve, tell them! Tell them the truth," he demands.
"Well to be honest..." Steve trails off with an innocent shrug.
The laughter begins again.
"Damn Stark and according to your own boyfriend too."
Boyfriend?! What the fuck?
"Why do you think my ass looks so great?"
"Mmm, it is nice," Steve agrees.
"You mean it's not stretched out from all the people you let fuck you so you could get your way?"
If Wanda doesn't stop talking, Tony really is going to be sick.
"Nope, that's what pilates are for."
"Alright," Sam cuts in, "I'm happy the two of you finally worked through your shit, but not at the table. Some of us are trying to eat."
"Why Sam, are you saying you don't want to see my ass? I don't believe it. Everyone wants to see it. It's a work of beauty after all."
"Yeah, but most people look it up on the internet so they don't have to deal with the personality attached to it," Clint smirks.
"Or the mouth that never shuts up," Natasha adds.
"Hey that's right. Tell me Steve, how the hell do you get him to shut up in bed?"
Steve smirks as he answers, "I give him something else to do. At least he knows better than to talk with his mouth full."
That's when Tony loses the battle with his stomach. He rolls over and promptly starts retching. Thankfully there is nothing to come up besides stomach acid. It makes his throat burn. He can't stop though because he can't get the words – the image – out of his head. Over the sound of his gagging, the video plays on.
"I do have some manners you know. My butler taught them to me as a kid."
"What? Over his knee?"
Tony isn't sure who asks. His head is spinning and his stomach is nauseous and he can't unhear the words he just heard. Any of them. This is how they are getting the impostor close to the team? By letting them verbally abuse him to his face as he laughs at it? What the fuck? Does the alien have no sense of pride or is he just as amused?
Is that really what it would take for Tony to be part of the team again? For him to discard the last of his pride, grovel at their feet and agree with their poor opinion of him. That is the price. That is what he would have had to do to become one of them again.
No, not even one of them. Even if they seem to accept him again, they don't. Not really. Just look at what they are saying to 'Tony's' face. That is not how fitting in works. That's being the butt of the joke for the rest of his natural life. And that's no way to live. Even Tony knows that. Not that he was living before all of this mess started. He hasn't been living his lie for a while now. Instead, he's just a shadow going through the motions.
Don't waste your life Stark.
What life?
The video keeps playing, the talking and the laughter keeps coming, but Tony isn't listening anymore. The words stop registering. They are all just noise now. Part of him wants to believe it is fake. That this is just a way to manipulate him. It can't be true. The team isn't like that.
Except it is true and they are. That is exactly what they are like. He can't doubt the video because part of him knows what he would have had to do to be accepted again. And what they would be like when he did. This – this right here – is the result. It doesn't even matter if it is real in the long run. Because real or not, it is true. And that is all that matters.
He sends himself away as the laughter fills the cell.
-xxx-
It goes on like this.
Every time Tony is awake, the videos are waiting for him. They must have a way of monitoring him because exactly ten minutes after he wakes, it begins. Or he thinks it is ten minutes anyways. It feels like ten minutes. But it might not be. It might be shorter, it might be longer or Tony might be right. It's hard to trust his clock when time is losing all meaning. Nothing ever changes in the cell – lighting, temperature, nothing. Everything stays the same all day, every day, in this never ending hell. They finally do begin feeding him, but it is a bowl of mush with no flavor and no utensil to eat it with.
With his hands the way they are, he either has to very carefully pick it up with his finger tips or eat it off the ground like an animal. He tries to pick it up as often as he can, but sometimes his hands are too shaky or in too much agony and he can't. He has to bend down, face bright with embarrassment, as he slurps the mush up from the ground. Sometimes it doesn't matter what he does, either way he has to eat off the floor. If he spills it, he has to lap it up. He can't afford to let any of it go wasted. There's not that much of it to begin with.
This happens every third time he is awake.
They also begin giving him water and bathing him. At the same time. Sometimes he is awake and ready for it and sometimes he isn't. Either way one bucket of cold water is dumped over him. It washes away the sweat, vomit and piss – for he still doesn't have a bucket or a hole and accidents happen, as well as accidentally losing consciousness at inopportune places. And now that he has food, he has something to throw up. Then it is up to him to lick the water off the floor if he is thirsty.
That's not the question. He is always thirsty now. It is never enough. Even if he could lick it all up, and he can't because some of it is too dirty, it still wouldn't be enough. He has a panic attack every time too. It never seems to matter how prepared he is, how he braces himself, he has a panic attack. Every. Single. Time. It's exhausting.
This happens every fifth time he wakes up.
Through it all, he never sees another fucking alien. He would have made a break for it long before now if he did. Screw having enough strength or not, he would have tried. Unfortunately, not a single fucking one of them shows their face. Everything is delivered by some magical or invisible force or something like that. Fuck.
He still refuses to use the mattress because at this point, Tony is filthy, no matter the water that gets dumped on him. And, in some strange way, it is satisfying to see that it is still so clean after everything so far. He uses the blanket though, as bandages. Thankfully, after some – read a lot – of work, they can be torn. He uses some of his precious water to wash his hands – his poor, poor, sickening hands; he's fairly sure they are infected by now going by the green puss leaking out of them, he certainly has the fever for it. When he is able to focus, he tries working on his gauntlets. But it's getting harder to work.
His nerves are shot to hell. It's not just the attacks and the constantness and the videos. Ironically enough, it's the boredom as well. Tony is a genius. That's not just something he likes to boast about. He is a genius and his mind is always going. One of the reasons he works long hours the way he does is because it never shuts off and never shuts up. It always needs something to focus on. More than one thing really. He can handle six separate trains of thought at once. He needs something to keep his mind occupied. It's as necessary as oxygen to him.
Here there are only the videos and his thoughts. Neither are good options right now. His thoughts are dark and the videos only feed that darkness. He tries to keep his mind from going too deep and too dark, but it gets harder as time goes on. Reminding himself that this won't help him escape, defeat his captors, is no help at all. Inventing and creating within his head doesn't help. Thinking fucking happy thoughts doesn't fucking help. Nothing does. Tony can feel himself slipping away and it scares the hell out of him.
The first time the impostor and Steve have sex, he is sick for a 'week'.
The first time he sees Peter hug the impostor, he sends himself into such a bad panic attack he passes out.
The first time he hears a phone call between the impostor and Rhodey, he screams.
The first time Pepper talks with the impostor, he is too numb to do anything.
The first time that the impostor has a conversation – a real, serious conversation – with Barnes, he starts sobbing.
He's not sure why this is the thing to break him exactly. He is too numb and too tired to figure out why. Something in his brain has seemed to shut down and he's having a hard time believing anything is real anymore. It doesn't feel real. It doesn't feel like anything actually. It's like it is all happening to another person. He can't even say what they are talking about. He can't hear them.
-xxx-
Frankly when it happens, he doesn't believe it is real. Nothing has felt real for a while now. Or has it always been this way? He can't remember. Thinking is hard. Everything feels... fuzzy.
All he knows is that when he opens his eyes, Loki is staring down at him in concern. His eyes are so green. So very green. How are they so green? There is something important about that. Something he should know. He doesn't though. They are very pretty though.
Loki chuckles, "Thank you Tony."
Oh, did he say that out loud?
"Yes," he frowns, "you are speaking out loud right now. Come," gently he picks Tony up, "we must be going." He cradles Tony against him as if he is something precious. It feels good. Yes, good.
"Yes beloved, you are. The world does not deserve you."
Oh... that's... that's something. What is it exactly? Where are they going? There's no answer so maybe he didn't say that out loud. How do you talk again? He just did it, it can't be that hard.
Standing on either side of the door are Steph and Barnes. Both are in full battle gear. Barnes seems to be covered in blood. What is he doing here? What are they both doing here? Are they... are they here for him? Why? That doesn't make any sense. He knows Steph was fond of him. And Loki. Right? Right. But why is Barnes here? Barnes has never talked to him before. Barnes was afraid of him. Barnes... Barnes talked to the impostor.
Everyone talked to the impostor.
Everyone liked the impostor better.
"I didn't," Steph says and oh, he must be doing it again.
"Gather close," Loki orders.
Steph pulls a face, but obeys. Barnes follows without a word. A wave of warmth engulfs them and then they are gone. Tony closes his eyes. Is this real?
"Yes it is," someone answers. Barnes?
When he opens them again, they are in a clearing, forest on one side, lake on the other. There is a cabin beside it that looks... cozy. Yes. Cozy is the word he wants. The sun shines down on them – both of them. Something about that isn't right. Shouldn't there only be one sun? Why would there only be one sun when there are two in the sky?
It is warm. It has been so long since he has been warm. But the suns are warm. And so is Loki's magic.
Loki. He is still holding him gently. "Tony dear, can you come back to us yet or is it still too much?"
Come back? He's right here. Unless he isn't. He looks down and sees himself. Then he pokes his arm just to make sure. Owe that hurt his hand. Odd. Still here though. Good. Wherever here is, he's here.
Loki nods, looking... sad. It's odd. He's never seen Loki look like that before. It is Loki, isn't it? "As I suspected, he has sent himself down too far."
"I had noticed, yes. Not surprising between his skill level and the situation," Steph says, "The shock can't be helping either. Can I see your hands?"
Tony blinks then nods then remembers he has to move his hands. He doesn't.
Carefully, as carefully as Loki is holding him, Steph takes his hands in his own. Oh. That's right. They match.
Steph laughs, but it doesn't sound happy. "We do," he agrees, "We'll have to see about fixing that."
Oh. Right. Hadn't he thought something like that... a long time ago? Something... something about "Gauntlets," he says. Or he thinks he says. He's not sure.
But he must have gotten it right because Steph smiles at him. "That's my genius."
"Our genius," Loki corrects irritably. But his hold is still gentle. "Tony is our genius and it won't do for you to forget that Conjurer."
"I won't as long as you don't Trickster."
Tony blinks. Should he understand why they are mad at each other? He thinks he should. He almost does. Maybe. This is real right?
Barnes stands quietly, watching with solemn eyes as the other two bicker.
"Why?" he asks. That stops the other two.
Barnes doesn't seem to understand the question.
"Afraid... afraid," he frowns. He can't seem to get the right words.
"Are you afraid of me?" Barnes asks.
No.
"Am I afraid of you?"
Yes. Yes he is. He never talks to Tony. Never looks at Tony. Refuses to be near Tony at all.
"No doll, I'm not afraid of you. But I thought you would be afraid of me. Or you wouldn't want to be around me. Not after everything. After I figured out that it wasn't true, I still stayed away because I thought to make things easier for you. Stevie... Stevie fucked you up. He fucked a lot of people up. Because of me. I saw how the others treated you and thought I would make it worse if I got involved. You didn't deserve that. But I thought I would make it worse instead of better. They... they don't seem right in the head sometimes."
"You... care?" This is the most he has ever heard Barnes speak. And to hear this...
"Doll, I care a whole lot. I think your strong and brilliant as hell."
"Diamond," the thought crosses his mind and comes out his mouth.
"Yeah doll, you're diamond alright. The prettiest diamond that ever lived."
Tony preens, liking it, but not exactly sure why.
"Barnes was the one who realized something was wrong. It took one conversation with that thing," Steph sneers, "to confirm it. We started looking immediately."
"I joined the search and ended it," Loki says, a bit boastful
"Well I -"
"Knock it off before I knock the two of you together," Barnes snaps, "Alright doll?"
"Yeah... yeah. Normal. Real."
"Oh I know it's normal. I've been putting up with these two assholes the entire time."
Tony laughs. Oh. Yes. He can laugh. Especially at those two. True. It's true, what Barnes said.
Steph clears his throat. "I have to go back for now. Everything is a mess."
"You won't tell them we found him?"
"Do I look like an idiot? No, don't answer that, I know your answer. Of course I'm not going to tell the morons. Are you sure you want to stay here?"
What?
"Yes. Stevie... Stevie ain't mine anymore. He's changed too much. He's done things I'd never thought he'd do. I don't recognize him anymore. I don't want to be near him and any place else, he'll eventually find me."
"Fine. Personally I don't blame you. Nor do I have any idea where you are. Bye Tones," he runs a hand carefully through his hair, "I'll be back alright? And I'll bring the equipment you need for your gauntlets." He kisses Tony's forehead.
"Meanwhile I will bring him up again as well as treat his hands the best I am able to," Loki informs him.
Steph nods. "If you hurt him, they will never find your body. There are a numerous amount of unpleasant dimensions after all."
"Just remember the same if you hurt him by staying away for too long," Loki warns in turn, "The wards will let you through when you return."
Steph doesn't reply. Opening a portal, he steps through and is gone.
That leaves him with Loki and Barnes. "Come," Loki says, "let us get you settled into your new home."
Home. Home with Barnes and Loki and Steph.
That sounds... nice. That sounds real.
Quick end notes:
- The impostor never got to FRIDAY or the bots, so that's why Tony never saw it. FRIDAY knew something was wrong, so kept 'Tony' out of the main workshop (pretend there's a secondary one), but was young enough not to know what to do.
- Loki moved to another Realm to chill, that's why there are two suns. (Pretty obvious I know).
- Tony is acting that way at the end because he used the meditation technique to send him mind away and it went too far. He's only about half or so there when he's rescued. Not sure if that was obvious or not.
- And before anyone asks, because I know someone will, yes this is it for now. No this does not mean I will never come back to this verse and expand it more. Don't hols your breath, but I can see it happening one day possibly. (The point is to clean out my WIP folder, not make more work! Fuck, I hate my muse sometimes.)
- If I do, know it's going from gen to slash eventually (of course, this is me) with Loki/Tony, Steph/Tony and Bucky/Tony. Because why not?