A/N: Information dump at the beginning of this chapter, sorry, but at least it's not filler.
Agent Coulson watched carefully as Ms. Fernandez read through the warrant he'd handed her as soon as walking into her tiny office. She was a curt woman who had greeted him with something close to annoyance, which changed to restrained worry when he mentioned Tony.
"You found him then?" She'd said briskly, "How is he?"
Coulson did give her points for her concern, but still answered vaguely, "He's fine. Tony will be in our custody for the foreseeable future."
Ms. Fernandez seemed to steel herself before asking, "What's he done now?" And that led to Coulson's current position sitting in front of her desk, wondering if she was going to dissect the entire warrant before he got what he came for.
Thinking he should remind the social worker he was still there, Coulson cleared his throat.
Ms. Fernandez looked up over her reading glasses, annoyance returning, "So, basically, you want me to release all the . . . paper files I have on Tony? And you want me to believe he's done nothing wrong?"
"I didn't say that, exactly," Coulson said patiently, "Just that he is a part of an ongoing investigation and any extra information will aide us."
Her lips pursed as she studied him skeptically for a moment, "Who did you say you were with, again?"
"SHIELD, ma'am," Coulson said politely, "Strategic Homeland Inter –"
"Yes, alright, you don't have to say it all again," Fernandez interrupted, "I've never heard of it anyway. But this warrant looks legitimate, and I should know," She put the warrant down on her desk and stood to move out of the cluttered office, "Come with me. Files are all downstairs."
As Coulson followed her down a single flight of stairs to the basement Fernandez spoke again, "Tony's files are a bit . . . extensive. He's moved around a lot and he has no concept of staying out of trouble. You may have to make a second trip."
They walked along an aisle of filing cabinets until she stopped and pulled one, then two, then three out, "These are Tony's files," she said.
Even Coulson had to pause for a moment, "All of these?"
Fernandez nodded, "It's partly because we have to fill out a lot of paperwork for everything but the rest is because Tony is . . . Tony. I think we have a cart here somewhere." She walked off to find said cart leaving Coulson alone with the mass of files.
He sighed and reached in to pull out a random file, flipping it open. It looked to be a complaint from one of the foster parents, dated a few years back.
. . . Tony has trouble getting along with the other children. The other boys have started to become somewhat disruptive and hostile towards Tony. What is most concerning, though, is that Tony tried to build a death ray as a response. We don't think it works but we would like to know if this is grounds to send him to a counselor . . .
Coulson blinked and stopped reading as Ms. Fernandez trundled back with a handcart and a box.
"Found this, as well," She said, indicating the box, "Don't know if it's covering in your warrant, but it's just gathering dust here."
Coulson glanced into the old box, "Are these his things?" There were papers and different trinkets that didn't seem to belong to a teenage boy.
"Technically, yes," Fernandez said, "They belonged to his mother, things the police took into evidence when they investigated the wreck. It was ruled an accident and she didn't have any family to release it to, so Tony's old social worker picked it up and kept it for the kid. He was sentimental like that, Mr. Brown, and insisted I keep it for Tony. Kid's never shown any interest and I've asked a few times if he wants it," She shrugged, "You might as well take it."
"Thank you," Coulson said and began loading files onto the cart with Fernandez's help, "What else do you know about his mother?"
She shook her head, "Not much. Just that for a while the police thought her car accident might have been malicious, but it was eventually ruled accidental."
Coulson nodded and glanced back at the box, wondering if it held any secrets.
They had finally gotten the last of the files precariously piled onto the cart when Fernandez spoke again, "Agent Coulson?" she sounded unsure, so Coulson looked up, "Listen, whatever Tony's done or gotten himself into, he . . . he's not a bad kid. Most people just don't know what to make of him, you know?" She still looked uncertain, but otherwise determined to make her point.
Coulson looked from her, to the files, then back to her as he said, "Yes, ma'am, I believe I do."
Tony was not happy.
It had been three days since his spectacularly humiliating little breakdown and he was bored out if his skull.
Not to be mistaken, he was grateful to be taken care of and that Steve, Clint, and Natasha had made some silent agreement not to speak of certain embarrassing incidents. That didn't mean he was any less embarrassed. He blubbered like an idiot and he wasn't sure what all he told them, just that when they asked a question he answered almost automatically. Tony did know he'd broken his resolution not to tell them who might be looking for him, specifically, his social worker, Ms. Fernandez. Fantastic. Now all he had to do was wait for the backlash on that one.
In the meantime, he was bored. Tony was antsy and active by nature and being stuck in a hospital bed for days on end was torture at its finest. And no, Steve, he was not being dramatic.
That was another thing, too. Gone was the practically palpable tension between the three adults who had designated themselves as his guard-dogs. Oh, no, Steve, Clint, and Natasha were bosom buddies now and were most efficient in making sure Tony stayed still. At least one of them was on watch at all times. Tony almost preferred when they apparently hated each other, at least they didn't gang up on him then.
And, yeah, okay, fine, Tony was pretty . . . touched, he supposed,that they worried enough to watch over him. The last time someone had looked after him this closely was Acker, and it usually involved handcuffing him to whatever was convenient so Tony didn't try to run away (which Tony only tried once because he nearly lost a few teeth, among other injuries, when Acker tracked him down). At least here, Tony had some semblance of free will, so he was trying to be on his best behavior, at least until he was well enough to move on his own.
Not that he hadn't already made the attempt. Once.
Steve was asleep on the couch someone had moved into the room (and honestly, Clint and Tasha were ninjas of the highest caliber to get that in there without so much as waking Tony) and Tony had been awake staring at the ceiling wishing desperately for that shower he'd requested what felt like forever ago. One thing he learned in his hospital stay was that sponge baths are horrible, invasive affairs that he wanted nothing else to do with.
He also remembered there was a bathroom connected to his room. Just a few steps away from the bed. If Tony could make it all the way to the elevator just days ago, surely he could make it to the bathroom and clean up a bit. He wasn't dumb enough to try and take a whole shower, which he doubted he could stay standing in for long or do without waking Steve. He just wanted to splash some water on his face.
Therefore, as quietly as he could, Tony slipped out of bed (with, what he was happy to notice, less pain than the first time) leaning heavily on his IV pole (ripping that out = big no-no) and made his way to the small bathroom. Without incident, he thought proudly. He glanced back at Steve one more time to make sure he was still asleep, then closed the door.
Yeah, the other thing Tony had missed while being holed up in this place was solitude. He smiled a little and turned – slowly so as not to rip, break, or otherwise irritate anything – to the sink and mirror. And, boy was Tony a sight. Pale face, dark circles, and still fading bruises – Tony finally understood the term death warmed over.
He sighed and turned on the water, waiting for it to get warm. Tony smiled as warmth ran over his finger tips (the hospital was really cold, all the time) and he cupped his hands under the flow so he could rinse his face.
As soon as he bent over, though, his stitched up stomach pressed into the edge of the sink sending pain lancing through Tony's entire body. The boy cried out, went to stand straight, lost his balance and toppled to the floor.
Cue frantic, sleep-mussed Captain slamming through the door and nearly tripping over his charge in the tiny bathroom. Tony didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the situation.
At the look on Steve's face, Tony decided a simple, "Sorry, Cap," was the best start.
Steve had just sighed and, without preamble, gathered Tony up off the floor and carefully carried him back to bed. At Steve's odd silence, Tony didn't even protest.
When the teenager was finally back in bed Steve spoke, "I know this is frustrating," he checked Tony's IV then looked him in the eye, "Trust me, I've spent my far share laid up in bed. But you have to rest and get better," the blonde paused and his face softened, "We worry about you, kid."
Something about the way Steve said that last part kept Tony in bed for the next few days without fuss. No really, Tony had done his best not to cause trouble because for a second there, when Steve found him, yet again, sprawled on the floor where he wasn't supposed to be, Tony was afraid he'd gone too far.
Steve hadn't looked angry exactly, but more . . . disappointed? Whatever the look was Tony didn't know what it meant, was afraid for a second he'd shown Steve how difficult it was to get Tony to behave, just like all the foster parents had. Tony was so amazed and thankful when Steve didn't leave or pass him off that he made himself promise not to make any more trouble.
Thus his laying in his bed bored so completely he can practically hear time pass by. Was it so much to ask to look at something other than these four sterile white walls?
Even Clint, his current watcher, had walked out for "just a sec" but it felt like ages without someone to talk to or play card games with (Tony never had any patience for solitaire). Since Tony had been staying awake longer and longer, the time had only gotten harder to pass.
Actually, Clint had been gone for a long time when Tony thought about it. Immediately he tried to think back to the last couple of hours to see if he'd done anything to annoy the archer, but honestly couldn't remember.
Tony was really beginning to worry when Clint reappeared with a wheelchair, Pamela the nurse, and a grin, "Ready for lunch?"
Tony sat up a bit more in bed and tried not too hopeful about the chair, "Are we going somewhere?" he asked tentatively.
"Just to the cafeteria," Pamela said with a small smile, "Agent Barton insists boredom is indeed fatal, despite medical evidence." She proceeded to take the chair from Clint and began helping Tony into it.
"Clint I could kiss you," Tony said earnestly once he was settled in the chair and Pamela had declared him safe to travel but don't you dare get out of that wheelchair and call me anything happens, Barton.
"Thought you'd appreciate it," Clint said and waved goodbye to Pamela as he pushed Tony out the door, "We're meeting Steve and Tasha there. And someone else should be there that I think you'll get along with." Clint was practically bouncing with excitement which made Tony suspicious.
"You're setting me up on a date?" Tony joked as they neared the elevator.
"Something like that," Clint pressed the button and checked Tony's IV pole was secure. They reached the correct floor and Clint, who was quickly becoming Tony's favorite, put one foot on the back of the wheelchair and pushed off with the other until they were racing down the hall at a speed Pamela the nurse would not approve of. Tony whooped and laughed as Clint spun around corners and came to a controlled halt at the cafeteria doors.
"Don't tell anyone that happened, got it," Barton said as he made sure everything was where it was supposed to be again.
Tony tried to stifle his laughter long enough to say, "Sir, yes, sir," and not to seem suspicious as they rolled into the cafeteria. The room was large as any cafeteria has to be and one wall was made up of a huge window looking out over the city. Tony had never been much of an outdoors person but he still bemoaned the fact that he had to stay cooped up inside while the sun was shining.
Barton steered him towards a table near the large window, where sat Steve, Natasha, and another man Tony didn't recognize. The guy looked incredibly uncomfortable sitting there next to Rogers, cleaning his glasses, and not making eye-contact with anyone. This must be the person Clint mentioned, but frankly the poor guy didn't look like he was ready to meet his own shadow much less Tony.
Just then Steve caught sight of them and waved, also alerting Romanoff and the other man to their entrance. The Captain also held up a tray with a cheeseburger and fries for Tony and for the first time in his life Tony almost felt spoiled.
When Clint finally parked his wheelchair at the end of the table Tony gave Steve his best reverent grin and said, "Captain, have I told you that you're my favorite?"
Steve shook his head and passed the teenager the tray, and spoke over Clint's indignant Hey! , "Just eat slowly. We practically had to bribe the entire hospital staff for this little field trip."
Tony took a huge bite out of the burger. Before Steve could form a protest, Natasha spoke up, gesturing to the new man across from her, "I'd like to save some semblance of etiquette here and introduce Dr. Bruce Banner. Dr. Banner this is Tony, our little hacker."
Dr. Banner looked almost startled that someone had remembered he was there but recovered enough to look at Tony with a small smile, "Nice to meet such a celebrity."
"C'lebr'ty?" Tony asked around the chunk of cheeseburger in his mouth. Steve and Tasha both gave him disparaging looks while Clint snorted into his drink.
Dr. Banner's eyes crinkled a little more at the corners in an almost-smile and he nodded, "R&D and the rest of Harris's computer geeks have been in quite the state over you and that little flash-drive." The man said it as a complement, Tony thought, but if Tony never heard about that stupid flash-drive ever again it would be too soon.
"Yeah, what was on there anyway?" Steve asked when Tony didn't say anything.
Tony took another bite of burger, hoping they would assume he was too hungry to talk.
Tasha, of course, caught onto this and raised an eyebrow at him. Thankfully, she didn't make him respond and said herself, "Coulson and Fury were nonspecific. Lots of classified information, anything R&D was working on involving weaponry. Personnel files," the last bit was said with a pointed look at Hawkeye.
Barton just nodded, "Explains how that Acker guy knew who Coulson was back at the apartment."
"Also means he probably has information on us too," Romanoff said matter-of-factly, even as Dr. Banner suddenly looked ill, "Maybe all of us."
Tony suddenly wasn't feeling so hungry and put his burger down. He started nibbling the end of a fry while the others discussed the information Acker had gotten. Natasha and Clint kept throwing out theories about how they could find Acker and Steve contributed as best he could, having not been a part of the initial investigation. Dr. Banner started looking and sounding more and more worried and wanted to know why exactly Acker would want such personal information.
Tony was wishing he was back in his hospital room. They were going to blame him for this; somehow, he just knew it. They would ask him why Acker wanted those files and Tony would have to say he didn't know, because he really didn't. They would ask him how he could let it get so far, and he wouldn't know how to explain himself. This whole thing was so screwed up and Tony found himself in the middle of it.
"You okay, kid?" Clint's voice slipped into Tony's thoughts and the teenager looked up, "You're not eating," Clint said and at that all eyes turned to the hacker.
As happened often with these people Tony flailed for something to say and at their increasingly concerned stares he just looked down at his tray and said, "'m sorry."
Steve gave the others a quizzical look and asked quietly, "For what? What's wrong?"
Tony looked back up at Steve's confused face and the others' concerned gazes. There seemed to be no resentment or blame in their faces (although who could really tell with the two assassins in the room), just worry. For him.
"I just . . . wasn't as hungry as I thought I was," Tony lied quickly and nudged the tray away just a bit, "Sorry, I couldn't finish."
"Oh," Steve said with some relief, "That's fine, I'll wrap it up and you can eat the rest later. Are you tired? Do you want to go back to your room?"
Tony shook his head, good mood returning with Steve's mothering, "I'm not tired."
"Good," Barton said from the other end of the table, "'Cuz the good doctor here is a fan of yours and we actually managed to drag him out into the open for a meet and greet," Clint reached over the table and patted Dr. Banner's arm, "Just don't get him over-excited. Gets awkward."
"Barton," Rogers said warningly, but Dr. Banner just nodded grudgingly.
"You're all very mysterious, you know that?" Tony asked irritably, "Steve here promised me the story of a lifetime and now I might be sitting at the table with Dr. Jeckle," Tony folded his arms as best he could with an IV still in his arm, "I'm about to have to start demanding answers."
Dr. Banner actually smiled for real, if barely, "I don't think my secrets are much of a secret anymore, really."
Clint snorted again and said casually, "It is pretty difficult to hide a giant mutant monster fight in the middle of Harlem."
At first Tony didn't understand. Then something clicked. Harlem, giant . . . Oh, yeah. That insane news report that most of the kids in his home at the time had thought was some new sci-fi movie until it started showing up on almost every channel.
"What did you have to do with that?" Tony asked, curiosity peaked and annoyance forgotten.
Dr. Banner gave a self-deprecating laugh and said, "Regrettably, I was that. The green one anyway." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Dr. Banner glanced about uneasily and removed his glasses again.
Tony's mouth dropped open of its own accord, "Wait, you . . . what?"
Barton took pity on him and explained (probably less for Tony's benefit and because it would make Banner uncomfortable, but still), "Yeah, Doc here is a scientist specializing in gamma radiation and a few years back got a little too big for his britches . . . literally – "
"Clint," Natasha warned, glancing warily at Dr. Banner.
"It's fine," the scientist said quickly, then looked at Tony, "An experiment gone wrong. But I have it under control." If Dr. Banner's voice sounded uncertain in that last part, Tony didn't notice. He was too busy forming a mental shrine to this man.
"Are you serious?" Tony practically shrieked, "Dude, you're a legend! Every kid in my home started looking for your action figure after we saw those reports." Tony was gaping openly now much to Clint's amusement. Dr. Banner was sputtering for a response when Tony added, turning abruptly to Steve, "You can't top that." Clint started making noises like a dying seal and Steve flushed red.
Natasha thumped Clint on the arm as Dr. Banner finally got out, "Action figure?" but couldn't seem to get further than that.
Steve also seemed to be struggling for words when Clint finally got control of himself enough to butt in, "Hey now, don't go disrespecting the Captain, kid. He's old enough to be your grandfather."
Tony blinked and wondered if Barton's sense of humor was always this confusing. Steve certainly didn't look older than maybe 25 at best. He acted like a knows-best stick in the mud sometimes but . . .
"It's a long story," Steve said when Tony turned to him for explanation.
"He's Captain America," Natasha cut in abruptly, "As in the original one. We dug him out of the ice a few months ago. He's been holed up here ever since." She smiled sweetly when Steve shot her a dirty look.
"What? No, that's not . . ." Tony's voice drifted off as he glanced around the table.
"You're sitting in the middle of a secret government organization," Clint said with barely concealed delight, "eating lunch with two master spies and a guy who is capable of turning into a giant green monster when he gets angry, but you draw the line at Captain America?"
"Can you stop calling me that?" Steve asked a bit irritably.
"Coulson's been geeking out ever since we found him," Clint continued as if Steve hadn't said anything.
Not that Tony heard. His already overactive brain was exploding. He had taken to staring down at his unfinished burger until someone started gently shaking his shoulder.
He looked up to see Steve (Captain America) saying, "Tony, you okay?" with increasing concern.
Finally, Tony mentally shook himself and quickly grabbed Steve's forearm, much to the Captain's worry. Everyone was looking at him weird now.
Tony ignored all of them and looked Steve in the eye seriously and said, "Steve . . . will you sign my trading cards?"
Clint immediately fell out of his chair.
A/N: I'm not even sorry. Also, I have no clue how the foster system actually works, I just know what I know from movies etc. So any mistakes, please feel free to educate me.
