The All-Night Diner
(An "Iron Man, Yes, Tony Stark…Not Recommended" AU)
AN: From a plotbunny suggested by chapter 14 of "Misconceptions", altered a little because, hey, AU! I tried to echo some of lilsmartass' actual wording where I could, to give it a more 'legitimate' flavor. I also tried to keep it in present tense as she does, which is not my wont. I was not always successful.
Summary: What if Rhodey met Tony at a diner rather than at the Tower in Chapter 8 of IMY?
-A-A-A-A-A-
Rhodey sighs at the level of emotion in Tony's voice; something is badly wrong, and he isn't going to be able to figure it out on the phone. He needs to see his friend in person if he's going to have a prayer of discovering what the hell has been going on in that tower since the Avengers moved in. "I'm coming over," he declares in no uncertain terms.
"You don't need to…"
The hesitancy in Tony's voice gets all his mental alarm bells ringing. "I'm. Coming. Over." The Lieutenant Colonel emphasizes each word.
The engineer panics. While he desperately wants an answer to his question, to his problems with becoming friends with his teammates, he doesn't want Rhodey in the Tower. There's too much of a chance that he'll run into one of the others, and then find out how badly Tony has screwed this sideways. He can't risk losing his oldest and dearest pal over this, just because he's gotten greedy and tried to befriend his boyhood idol. Thinking quickly, he suggests, "Hey, honeybear? I've been working in the lab and I'm kinda hungry right now. How about I meet you at that all night diner on Fifth? You know, the one with the great burgers?"
Rhodes can hear…something… in Tony's voice, but decides it will wait until they're face to face. "Sure, I could do a burger. Why don't you bring along a few of your latest gizmos, as long as they're reasonably portable? I'd love to see what you've been working on." The best way to get Tony to relax and spill whatever was truly bothering him has always been to get him talking about his tech, then nudge the conversation in the right direction.
"Sure thing!," comes the overly bright reply. The Air Force officer winces at how forced the cheer sounds, and he aches for his friend without even knowing why. At least, not yet.
"See you in half an hour," Rhodes confirms, then stands and starts getting dressed.
Tony runs a greasy hand through his hair and stares around his workshop in a daze. 'What should I bring?,' he thinks desperately. 'I've really only been working on Avenger kit lately, even if they won't accept it from me.' He shuffles over to the cupboard and opens it, rustling tiredly through the contents and picking out a few items that he hastily shoves into a backpack. Nodding, he turns off the lights and locks down the lab, heading towards the garage. Something nondescript tonight; the Audi, perhaps.
-A-A-A-A-A-
Rhodes is already in a booth at the diner when Tony pulls up, easily finding a parking spot near the front given the time of night. The Air Force officer is spotlessly dressed in his Class B uniform, and fixes Tony with a sharply appraising gaze as the billionaire saunters into the restaurant with forced nonchalance. Tossing the pack in ahead of him, he slides quietly onto the bench seat opposite the black man and picks up a menu.
They order their meals with little discussion and, once the waitress places a large cup of coffee in front of each of them and goes to turn in their food request, Tony steels himself for some pointed questioning. After all, he's dragged Rhodey out to a greasy spoon at four in the morning, and he hasn't touched a drop of alcohol since he threatened DUM-E.
His friend surprises him though, and just makes normal conversation. "So, what new toys have you created lately?," he asks, sipping his steaming coffee carefully. "Anything fun I can steal?"
The inventor grins despite himself. "Well, Sugarplum, it just so happens that I have a few things right here." Rummaging through his bag, he pulls out two yards of a silky, folded midnight blue cloth and hands the fabric triumphantly to the fighter pilot. "What do you think?" he crows with a grin and a waggling eyebrow.
Rhodes unfolds the material to reveal a soft, six by three foot rectangle that shimmers like satin. Peering over the top of the textile, he cocks a doubtful look at his smug friend. "So…designing new Mess Dress uniforms?," he hazards, only half sarcastically. He hasn't got a clue what he's looking at, and Tony knows it.
The genius' grin widens; he's clearly enjoying showing off. He tilts his head as if considering it. "Not a bad idea. At least, if you tend to get shot while wearing them."
Now Rhodes is thoroughly confused. Wrinkling his nose, he hands the material back to the self-satisfied inventor. "What? I'm clearly missing something."
Stark holds the cloth in front of himself. "You have your Leatherman on you?," he asks as an apparent non sequitur.
"Always," replies the colonel.
"Then stab me."
"What?!" Rhodey keeps his voice down, but it's a near thing.
Tony peeks over the top of the cloth, shit-eating grin firmly in place. "Stab me. Through the material, though. Going around it would be cheating."
Rhodey is so relieved to see the man behaving in his normal (crazy) fashion that he decides to humor him. In one smooth motion he pulls his multi-tool from its sheath on his belt, flips open the knife blade, and lunges at the engineer. Tony jerks the material up in front of his face as the knife slides effortlessly to the side. The colonel's brows draw together in surprise. "What the…?"
The former weapons manufacturer hands the cloth back towards him proudly. "Body armor. Particularly made to look like normal clothes. It even deflects my repulsors!"
Rhodes reexamines the fabric with serious interest now. "Really?," he breathes in awe. "Flame, bullets, knives?"
"Acids and bases, too." Tony leans back and takes a slug of his own coffee, grimacing at the bitterness.
"You'll probably want to change it to Air Force blue; this looks like it would make a beautiful ballgown, but I don't see men going into combat draped in it." Rhodey's joking, but notes the inventor's suppressed flinch at the remark. His eyes narrow in suspicion. "You already made a dress, didn't you. For…Black Widow, right? What happened?"
The colonel's tone is firm, and Tony wilts a little under the knowing gaze, reminded of why they were here in the first place. Staring downwards in shame, he twists a corner of the material in his hands nervously as he mumbles, "Yeah, and a bunch of other spy gizmos, too."
When it becomes obvious that he isn't going to elaborate, Jim lowers his voice coaxingly. He swears sometimes Tony is like a wounded woodland creature. "Spy gizmos?"
"A purse full of sabotage materials, acids, poisons; a locator beacon necklace; hose that unravels to become rope… I even made shoes her size that had knives in the soles."
Rhodey snorts at that. They'd had more than a few 'Wild, Wild West' marathons in college. Tony quirks up a corner of his lip wryly. "What can I say? I couldn't help myself."
"Well, she must have loved it." The Air Force officer had met Natasha once, and this equipment sounds right up her alley. If nothing else, it would certainly be useful.
"She hasn't seen it," grouses Tony unhappily.
The colonel suppresses his instinctive response of 'Why not', and instead asks carefully, "What happened?"
"Well, I went by her room with that box of toys the night she was heading out to her current mission, but she wasn't in. I had to be at a benefit for Pepper and needed to be on time to show Fury that I can be reliable, so I left it in front of her door with a note to ask JARVIS. He could have walked her through everything since he'd helped me develop it. Anyway, Barton found the box first and opened it, then accused me of trying to seduce his girlfriend!" Tony tries to look offended, but only manages shame.
The colonel snorted. "What was he smoking? Last I checked, body armor and shoe knives weren't considered all that romantic, and certainly not seduction material, no matter how beautifully made. If I know you, you just wanted to keep her safe on her mission." He smiled encouragingly. "What did she say when she got back?"
"She hasn't yet. She's still gone, and Barton's probably tossed the stuff anyway." Tony grumbles, but can't quite hide the raw hurt in his voice.
"What? He would throw out his girlfriend's gift? Even if she wasn't called 'The Black Widow', that isn't wise." He frowned and turned serious. "Have you talked to Rogers about this? He's the leader of the Avengers; he should take care of this sort of misbehavior in his command." LTC Rhodes is in problem-solving mode.
Tony can't meet his eyes, just keeps staring fixedly at his now-empty coffee cup. "Rogers was there when Barton hit me; he pulled him off, saying that although I deserved a beating, I wasn't worth Hawkeye feeling bad if he killed me." He holds up a hand to halt Rhodey's automatic outraged exclamation. "They never gave me a chance to clarify things, so I stayed in my lab out of their way. I accidentally ran into Rogers…yesterday now, I guess… and, when I tried again to explain, he jumped back like I'd molested him and accused me of trying to sleep with him to get on the team. That's why I called you. I just want them to like me, but somehow I keep fucking it all up." The babbling peters off into a shamed mumble as he turns the coffee cup around absently.
The colonel doubts that this is all Tony's fault, no matter what the other man says. Despite his armor of arrogance, the genius is astoundingly insecure, and tends to take responsibility for everything that goes wrong around him, including the common cold. A thousand questions were whirling through his head, but he starts with the most obvious first. "To get on the team? But I thought you were an Avenger already?"
Tony huffs in a self-deprecating manner and fiddles with the napkin holder. "Yeah, I did too. When Agent brought me all the stuff on the Tesseract, I thought… but Fury says I'm too undependable, too out of control. Apparently I've always just been a 'consultant', even though they call me for all the battles." Their plates of food arrive just then, as well as coffee refills, and Tony falls silent as he stares at his untouched burger.
"You almost died, Tones, saving all of Manhattan! And that's not good enough to be an Avenger? This is fucked up." It's all Rhodes can think to say, but seems to sum it up nicely. There are clearly a lot of details that have been omitted from their brief conversation, but the engineer looks like he might either fly into a rage or break down completely if he continues, so Jim doesn't push.
"I know I am," Tony replies, clearly deep into guilt land. So…. break down it is, then.
"That's not what I said. Tell you what; let's eat our food, get some more coffee, wait for the sun to come up, then go kick some 'superhero' ass, what do you say?" He puts a little light-hearted lilt into his words, but he means every one of them. "If nothing else, Rogers and I need to have a little talk."
Tony just nods, evidently too tired to do anything else. Rhodey wonders how long it's been since he's gotten any real sleep, or eaten a decent meal. He watches his despondent friend push his food around his plate dispiritedly, then decides, 'Right. Time for a distraction.'
"Soooo…..," he begins suggestively, making certain to take a big bite of his burger as Tony looks up at him. Jerking his head towards the satchel, he continues, "What else you bring to show me?"
Tony blinks owlishly at the bag for a moment before the words register and he looks sideways at the pilot, a smile playing on his lips acknowledging that the topic change was intentional, but welcome. He doesn't call him on it, and instead pulls out a lightweight folding bow he'd made Barton along with the arrows that had been returned. As he does so, a piece of paper flutters to the table top, landing directly in front of Rhodey.
"What's this?," the pilot asks as he picks it up.
"Nothing!," Tony exclaims, trying to reclaim the note.
Too late; the colonel has always been a fast reader. He pulls it slightly out of the engineer's reach as he rereads it in disbelief. "Barton… returned Starktech? Starktech that was specifically designed for him?!" The fighter pilot fixes his disbelieving gaze on his shamefaced friend. "Are you guys sure Loki didn't break his brain or something? I'm serious. Because that's just crazy."
Tony snorts and allows himself a small smile. "Well, I thought so, too. This was the first thing they returned, not wanting to be 'beholden' to me. I'm not stupid; I can learn. I couldn't stop making better kit, but after a while I just stopped sending it to them; just stuffed it in a cupboard. I figure when Bruce gets back, he can pretend he made it. They might accept presents from Brucie." The inventor looks pensive at the thought.
"Tony, no." Rhodes' stern tone brooks no argument, and Tony's head jerks up, eyes dark and wide and vulnerable in a way that just infuriates his friend. "If they can't have the common decency to accept a gift politely and say 'thank you', then they don't deserve to have it."
The billionaire flashes him a warm, amused smile. "That's what JARVIS said," he comments. "My friends are ganging up on me."
Just then the front window explodes inward, showering the diner's patrons with shards of glittering glass. As people scream and stampede for the back door, Tony dives for his pack, snatching a wristband out and tossing it to Rhodes, who is already drawing his sidearm. "Put that on!" he demands. The colonel decides that arguing would take more time than just humoring the genius, so he does. The instant it's on his wrist, Tony touches a button on the side and…
Rhodey is holding Captain America's shield.
It isn't, really. It's transparent and popped up out of a watchband, so it isn't the original. But it can be separated from the micro-generator that's powering it, and the military man has no doubt that it has the same heft, aerodynamics, and protective properties as the one Rogers lugs everywhere.
"I made that for Cap," Tony hastily explains as he drapes the blue fabric over his chest and back, then snatches up the bow and quiver of arrows. "The force shield has pretty much the same capabilities as the original vibranium, with the advantage of portability. One of the things I plan on getting Bruce to distribute later." Ignoring Rhodey's frown, he gestures towards the destroyed window and the mayhem audible outside. "Shall we?" he grins.
"Let's." Rhodey answers his tired smile with a smirk of his own, and the two heroes head for the chaos.
-A-A-A-A-A-
Steve and Clint have been waiting for Stark in the common room for only two hours, but rather than calm down, the archer seems angrier by the minute. Rogers is getting ready to take a chance with the robot… computer… butler thing sending the billionaire a message, even though he's probably still asleep in bed, because waiting is looking like less and less of a good idea. Hawkeye is pacing the length of the room with controlled rage, agitatedly muttering to himself under his breath. Steve has just opened his mouth to address the issue when his phone beeps, loud and insistent.
'Saved by the bell,' he thinks with relief, then his stomach plummets. It's Nick Fury. That can't bode well this time of night. If they have to assemble, he's not sure he can keep Barton in line and professional towards Stark, especially not if the other man mouths off to him. He flips open the phone with a feeling of dread.
"Director." He keeps his voice calm and tries to sound ready for action.
"Rogers. Barton there with you?" Fury sounds…. well, furious. His words are cold, precise, and oh so angry.
Steve pulls himself to attention automatically, noting Barton's gaze riveting on him as he does so. "Yes, sir. But if we're assembling, I'll need to locate Stark…"
The Director bites off a snarl. "I know where Stark is; I just want to know why you two aren't with him."
"Sir?" Steve groans internally. 'What's Stark done now?' he thinks, even though he hasn't actually had to deal with any of the billionaire's public misbehaviors himself. He's heard enough from Hill to know that it had to happen sooner or later. If nothing else, at least he's kept the man off the team.
Fury barks loudly enough for Clint to hear him as well. "Turn on News 4, then get your butts down here to SHIELD headquarters. I want you two in my office within the hour!" The line goes dead without waiting for an acknowledgement.
"What's Stark done this time?" growls Clint as he grabs the television remote and flips to the correct channel.
The screen fills with pandemonium, and the text in the corner indicates that it's live. A somewhat disheveled young woman stands center screen, microphone to her lips, while behind her is a sea of flashing lights from fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances. Two angry young men in odd shaped handcuffs are being muscled into a prisoner transport vehicle by several officers, and firefighters are just getting the upper hand on a blaze that seems to have destroyed a building to the reporter's right. 'What the…?' Steve is ready to suit up and go, but the newswoman's words start to sink in.
"…destroyed three city blocks were halted by the heroic actions of these two men. Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes, if I may have a word?"
The camera swings left to focus on a strong, powerfully built black man in an Air Force uniform seated on the back of an ambulance as an EMT finishes bandaging his forehead. The man's uniform is torn, his face bloodied, but his expression is impatient rather than dazed or injured. Forcibly bringing himself under control, he nods once, smartly, then says, "Certainly, but please keep it brief. I'd like to go check on my friend."
'Rhodes…Rhodes… Now why does that name sound familiar?' Steve is certain he should know, but he's been so worried about Clint that he can't seem to concentrate tonight.
"Of course, I understand. You two went to college together, correct?" She honestly sounds sympathetic, which has not been Steve's experience with the media of this future.
"Yeah, MIT."
Clint realizes at the same moment Steve does, and blurts, "That's Stark's friend, uh, War Machine." Stunned at the implications, he drops heavily onto the couch in front of the television, eyes glued to the set. Steve pauses momentarily, then joins him.
"Can you tell us what happened?"
Rhodes nods polite thanks to the medic, then stands up next to the reporter, automatically assuming a semblance of parade rest. "Tony and I were having a snack and going over some of his latest inventions when all the windows in the diner blew in." He shrugged. "We grabbed whatever we had at hand that we could use as a weapon and went to see how we could help."
The news feed switches to some shaky camera footage that had been taken earlier, possibly by a cell phone. Several heavily armed men can be seen pushing a number of terrified citizens to the pavement as flames billow out of a building next to them. Suddenly, an arrow goes through the Kevlar vest one of the more violent men is wearing, dropping him to the ground and allowing a few of the civilians to flee to safety. The camera swings back to the source of the shot to reveal a scruffy, bruised Tony Stark letting fly with a second shot that drops another one of the terrorists. He's holding a lightweight, folding bow and a quiver of arrows, and is oddly draped in a shiny, blue material that Steve recognizes as matching that of Natasha's confiscated dress. Clint notices it, too, then leans forward, frowning at the screen in concentration. The criminals are firing back at the unarmored man, and they both realize that the bullets are bouncing off the blue fabric.
"Oh my god…" The archer trails off as he realizes that the beautiful gown he prevented Natasha from having was actually body armor that was so subtly made that she'd be able to wear it on any covert op.
Steve is aghast. He remembers the small square of material that he had so viciously destroyed, that Natasha had punctured. Clint said that he'd been praying that Stark would make Natasha something that would protect her when Clint couldn't, and Stark had. A wave of shame washes through him at the realization. He'd allowed a trained assassin to attack an unarmed civilian whose only crime was to try and protect someone he cared about, at least a little bit. His mind flits back to that night; no wonder Stark thought they were mind controlled! Who in their right mind would get angry at such a thoughtful, useful gift? He then winces, recalling with embarrassment their adamant refusal to let Stark explain, and wonders what the other items in the box actually are. He'd wager a week's salary that they, too, are more than meets the eye.
Barton's face is a mixture of terror and dismay. "What if she gets hurt?" he whispers. "What if that dress could have saved her?"
Steve prays fervently that Natasha comes home safe and sound, otherwise the archer might never forgive himself.
The scene on the television freezes, then shrinks and drops into a corner of the screen as the live image of LTC Rhodes and the newswoman return. "So, I take it some of the inventions that you were discussing were for his team? That bow looks like it might be meant for a rather famous archer, and that shield you're carrying," the camera focuses temporarily on a transparent version of Steve's shield clutched tightly in the military man's right fist, "Might be destined for a certain Captain?" She smiles encouragingly.
Colonel Rhodes, however, suddenly turns cold and distant. "Actually," he corrects her, "Tony is only a consultant for the Avengers. He builds them tech, supplies them with room and board, but isn't actually included in any of the team strategy sessions or training activities." Steve flushes at the words, recalling not only the meetings and trust-building exercises that Stark had been excluded from, but all the invitations Stark had extended that they had privately ridiculed and publicly declined.
The reporter is flustered. "But… with all the press conferences after the alien invasion, we were under the impression…"
Rhodes actually warms to her honest confusion. "So was Mr. Stark. He was only recently disabused of that notion, and that was one of the items we were discussing when these men so rudely interrupted or meal." He gestures behind himself at the flashing lights. "I suspect that Ms. Potts will be arranging a press conference in the near future…." he trails off distractedly, staring at the few remaining ambulances. Steve can hear the "if he survives" as loudly as if LTC Rhodes had actually spoken the words.
"So all the rebuilding that Mr. Stark financed in the name of the Avengers?," the reporter asks pointedly.
Rhodey shoots her a shark-like grin that doesn't reach his eyes. "Can actually be attributed to the generosity of Mr. Stark alone. Since he apparently isn't an Avenger, you'll just have to address your 'thank you' cards to 'Iron Man' instead."
The reporter nods, then decides to move to safer subjects. "I suspect most of our viewers are curious as to the nature of the blue material Mr. Stark was wearing. I didn't know Iron Man was trying out the 'caped crusader' look."
The lieutenant colonel flashes a brief grin at her words. "That 'material' is the most impressive piece of technological development I've seen in a while. It's body armor that is thin and pliable enough to be worn as normal clothing, but repels bullets, knives, flames, acids, and grenades. Since I'm Stark Industries military liaison, he was showing me a sample when we suddenly had the opportunity for a live demonstration."
The reporter looks confused. "If the material is so revolutionary, why is Mr. Stark currently in an ambulance on the way to a hospital?"
A black cloud of equal parts worry and anger settles over the colonel's face. "Even the best armor in the world only protects what it covers," he growls, then brings the interview to a close. "Speaking of which, I need to go check on him. If you'll excuse me?"
"Certainly. Thank you for speaking with us." The news switches to the next story, so Clint flips off the set. There's a long moment where the two Avengers stare at each other in dismay before jumping to their feet and heading for the garage.
-A-A-A-A-A-
"What the hell has been going on at that Tower?" demands Fury the instant they step into his office. Rogers winces in guilt and shame at the tone, but he knows he deserves it. It didn't help that the fastest way to reach SHIELD had been the car Stark had so generously given Clint, knowing that he could drive the others when necessary. Like tonight. The entire trip had been occupied with worry for Stark coupled with a mental recounting of all the insensitive, unfair things he had said and done to the man. Steve feels like he's about ready to hide away in shame. Still, he needs to know Stark's status before he can indulge himself.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but could you provide an update on Stark's condition before we proceed? It sounds like he was seriously injured."
Fury raises his eye from his desk, glares at them, then nods. "Bullet wound to the head. Initial examination indicates that it didn't penetrate his skull, probably because it's so thick, but he's been in and out of consciousness since the incident. That raises a concern for intracranial bleeding, so he is in the CT scanner as we speak. The one time he woke up when I was present, he made a snide remark about the lengths to which he'd go to visit Agent Coulson, so I'd say his mental faculties were intact."
Clint flinches at that, paling. "We didn't mean…" he began, only to be cut off by Fury.
"Did you know that Agent Coulson was his babysitter when he was dying of Palladium poisoning?" he asks conversationally. "Surprisingly enough, they actually became friends." The Director snorts in amusement as he recalls, "Stark has a reputation for being unable to remember names, which is complete bullshit. Coulson said so, so to this day he persists in calling the man 'Agent' rather than Phil."
'Was there anything about Stark that they hadn't misunderstood?,' Steve wonders in despair.
"Still, that's not why I called you in. Initially I wanted to discuss how Stark managed to respond to an incident without either of you being notified, but Colonel Rhodes cleared that up on live television." He grimaces. "Despite the man's professionalism, this is going to be a shit storm. You saw the interview?"
Steve nods, unable to speak through his mortification.
"I'm going to have our PR department contact you both later today, and Agent Romanov once she returns from her assignment. Even if Stark and Potts play this close to the chest and decline to discuss it publicly, there will be questions…lots of questions. As Stark's status with the Initiative is now open knowledge, he's not going to be able to be the spokesperson for the team, which means," he fixes the Captain with a razor-sharp stare, "You have a lot of press conferences in your future, Captain. Better get some sleep. Dismissed."
Steve could only nod his silent acceptance as Clint leads him out of the office. Once in the corridor, Steve turns his shell-shocked gaze towards the archer, who shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "What have we done?," he asks plaintively.
"Fucked up," Clint replies, direct and precise.
Steve barks a laugh that almost sounds like a sob, drags a shaking hand over his face, then pulls himself together with visible effort. "Let's go see how Stark is doing," he suggests quietly, and the pair shuffle down the corridor towards Medbay.
-A-A-A-A-A-
It turns out that Stark has a rather severe concussion and a scalp laceration, but no bleeding in his brain or other injuries. Steve smiles as he thinks about the ruckus the billionaire will raise once he discovers that they had to shave some of his hair to put stitches in the wound. He's already been moved from the triage area to a private room, so they get the room number and go to see him.
They are greeted with a closed door and a furious LTC Rhodes. He's cleaned up and in loaner SHIELD sweats, but is still recognizably the man from the television. He stands straighter as they approach and crosses his arms over his chest as he scowls silently at them. They come to a stop in front of the door which the fighter pilot is actively blocking with his body. Through the glass observation panel Steve can see Stark lying in a bed, unnaturally still, surrounded by as much medical equipment as Coulson. He appears unconscious or asleep, with dark hollows beneath his eyes and his head swaddled in gauze. His left eye is covered with a bruise that swells it shut, and there are several similar contusions and abrasions scattered over most of his exposed visible skin. An IV runs into the back of his left hand, and a disheveled Pepper Potts sits in a chair by his side.
"Can I help you?," growls Stark's friend, and Steve startles back to meet his rage-filled eyes.
"Um, yes. We'd like to visit Mr. Stark. I'm Steve Rog…"
"I know who you are," snarls Rhodes venomously. "Tony's so-called 'teammates'. I also know what you've done, at least some of it."
Steve drops his eyes to the floor in shame, but Clint is riled by the perceived attack. "What, Stark a tattle-tale as well?," he taunts before he remembers himself. Steve closes his eyes in embarrassment; he's let Clint get away with verbally abusing Stark for so long that it's become second nature to the man, even now when they are discovering how wrong they've been.
Rhodey snorts derisively. "Hardly. The only reason I even have an inkling is because I've known Tony for so many years that I can hear what he's not saying almost as loudly as what he does. That, and he tends to be a lot more honest when badly concussed - he can't concentrate enough for his usual verbal sleight-of-hand."
"'Tends to be'?" Steve asks in alarm. "Has this happened before?"
Rhodes gives him a questioning look. "He was Iron Man for a long time before he tried to join your little boy band, Captain. Didn't you read his file? If Coulson gave Tony files on all the members of the Initiative, I'm certain he gave them to you as well."
"Stark hacked our files!," exclaims Clint defensively before Steve could answer.
Rhodes just lifts an eyebrow. "That's just because he returned them when asked, not having had the chance to study them. However, apparently after you people moved in he made an innocuous joke that hit a sore spot with you, Agent Barton, and Agent Romanov literally threatened to kill him if he did it again. Out of self-defense he reacquired the files to try and avoid any other sore spots. He reasoned that since you had all read his and he had been given yours to read but hadn't, it was his fault that he was being terrorized with death threats in his own home." This last bit is hissed out furiously as the Air Force officer drops his arms to his sides and clenches his fists so tightly that they turn white. "Imagine his surprise when he 'did his homework', discovering Agent Coulson's continued existence in the process, and then was ostracized for it!"
Clint's eyes widen to saucers as the truth of the matter sinks in. No, it wasn't the typical way people interacted, but Stark seems to have the social skills of a sentient toaster. The way Rhodes put it, it makes perfect sense.
"He…kept giving us stuff, trying to buy his way onto the team," Clint tries weakly as his preconceived assumptions about the billionaire continue to crumble to dust.
"That's just Tony. He likes to give things to people he cares about; things they might like or need, things to keep them safe. Maybe you should try to get to know him before you condemn him for just being nice." He snorted. "Trust me. If he tries to bribe you, it won't be that subtle. A checkbook will probably be involved."
"So…the things we saw on television?" Steve hazards.
Rhodes grunts, annoyed. "Yeah, made to keep his…well, I can't use the word teammates, can I? … his 'associates' safe. Even when you started returning things, not wanting to 'owe' him any favors, he just kept making stuff. A portable energy shield for Cap, a bow that folds down to the size of a wallet with a twenty-five pound pull, arrows which were returned, body armor for the Widow which you confiscated and possibly discarded…shall I continue?"
"Why did he think we didn't want the equipment?" asks Rogers in surprise.
The pilot flings a balled note at Steve's chest. "Maybe he got the idea from this. Or maybe it was the beating he received for the body armor and knife-shoes!"
Steve flushes as he opens the paper and Clint peers over his shoulder. Rhodes just looks daggers at him from where he still stands blocking the doorway. The terse memo is in Natasha's precise lettering informing Stark that SHIELD R&D was responsible for their equipment, and that the upgraded arrows were being returned so that there would be no awkward expectations later, as well as a request to stop giving them things unless ordered to do so by Fury.
Clint looks shocked. "Why…why would Nat…"
Steve remembers her mentioning this. "She thought you couldn't handle it, Clint. You already felt you owed Stark so much, yet you resented him at the same time…" he trails off helplessly. Clint looks like he's been stabbed.
Rogers turns dead, guilty eyes to meet Rhodes' angry, narrowed ones. "We're not going to be able to visit him right now, are we?" he asks. He'd really like to make sure that Howard's boy is all right after being in a battle that Steve hadn't even known about, but he understands why this man might not want them anywhere near his friend.
The Lieutenant Colonel's mouth quirks sardonically and he nods once. "I see we understand each other, Captain. His condition is such that he's not ready for general visitors yet, just family. Right now, that means me and Pepper, since he has no one else." He starts to return to the room, but turns, hand on the knob, and fixes a steely eye on Rogers. "He wanted it to be you guys, too. He tried so very hard. Do you know why we were really in that diner, Captain? The equipment was only an excuse." He shakes his head sadly. "He called me at three in the morning because he wanted me to tell him how to get you ingrates to like him."
With that, he opens the door and disappears inside. Steve and Clint can only stare at the closed entrance in humiliation.
The End