Oh my god, I'm sooo sorry for the wait! I have a myriad of excuses, of course, but the biggest thing in my life is this: I'm being kicked out. Well, more like I was told to leave for the thousandth time and now I finally am, before the damage between my mother and I can't be fixed. It's a long, unhappy process and I'll be fully moved into my fiancee's house by the first week of August. Hopefully then I'll be able to update far more frequently. Anyways, enjoy (I hope)!
PS In my headcanon, Tony was born in 1975, and nothing will ever change that. Shhhh, don't judge me.
**8**
Tony drags young Thor back inside and to the nearest bathroom with a first aid kit. It's obvious the cuts are already healing, but the second he gets a good look at them all Thor's eyes go wide and teary. Tony does the first thing he can think of to shut it down before the waterworks start: he offers bandaids. Pink ones, green ones, Avenger-themed ones, plain old "flesh"-colored ones, flowery ones, striped ones, Hello Kitty ones... Tony's got at least a dozen boxes of different sized, shaped, and patterned bandages.
Thor loves them all, and demands one of every kind. It says something that he's got enough cuts and scrapes for it. Avengers (the Thor ones carefully hidden away) cover his arms, along with other extra colorful ones. His legs get the solid color and flowery bandaids. He reserves the single remaining cut on his face for a violently purple circular one, slapped right onto his nose. It'd be small on Tony, but it nearly covers Thor's entire nose, up to the bridge. It's adorable, and Tony manfully represses the urge to coo and maybe cuddle the kid.
Then there's the matter of Tony's injuries. Apparently, on Asgard, wounds are taken very seriously. He allows Thor to attack his face with three alcohol wipes, cleaning the blood away (and Tony is nothing short of alarmed at how much of it there was). The cut on his cheek burns and it's a true struggle not to burst into violent swearing as the sting doesn't ease for a solid minute. It feels like the liquid from the alcohol pad was just squeezed into the wound and trapped with a Hello Kitty bandaid. Then Thor grabs one of his (high quality, pure white) hand towels, soaks it in sink water, and starts scrubbing the side of his head. That, possibly, hurts worse, but a glance in the mirror shows him that there's no bleeding, so he's not too concerned. And with the little blond smiling the way he is, Tony can't say no to the request to slap another bandaid onto his hair.
They return to what can only be described as chaos. Bruce is chasing Clint, a snarl fixed on his face as he grabs at the other boy's oversized tank top with clawed hands. Clint is shrieking with mixed terror and delight as he hops over fallen couch cushions and pillows. Clint nimbly scales the back of the couch and laughs when Bruce meets it headfirst. Natalia's perched atop the arm chair, arms crossed with a vicious scowl on her face. Steve is curled up in a corner, hiccuping into one leather sleeve. He looks up long enough to suck in a breath before resuming his quiet crying fit.
Tony watches all of this with a growing sense of dread. Dread and exhaustion.
"Jarvis," he says, still staring, "is it bed time yet?"
"As a matter of fact, sir," Jarvis replies, "it is."
Tony releases Thor's hand, so tightly grasping his own only a moment before, and rubs his face. "Great," he cheers halfheartedly. "How do I go about doing this?"
"Perhaps you should ask the children of their evening routines," his AI suggests, and Tony points at the ceiling in acknowledgement. What would he do without Jarvis?
Only then does he notice the silence.
The kids are all staring at him, wide-eyed. Clint teeters on one foot until he has to take a bracing step to stay upright. Bruce's hands slowly sink to his sides, fingers relaxing. Natalia's glower has snapped up to focus on his face. Steve peeks out from behind his sleeve, tears glistening on his cheeks.
"Who speaks?" Thor suddenly demands, looking around wildly. His hands come up, stretching the little bandaids on his fingers as he balls them into fists. "Show yourself!"
"I'm afraid I can't show myself," Jarvis says apologetically. "However, I can introduce myself. My name is Jarvis."
"Where are you, Jarvis?" Bruce asks, anger seemingly forgotten in the face of mystery.
"I am everywhere, young sir," answers Jarvis. "I have no body like yours, but I do like to think I live in the Tower."
"Are you real?" Clint pipes up, staring at the ceiling.
"As real as you or anyone else," Jarvis promises. "I am simply different."
"I like to pretend Jarvis is my butler," Tony puts in, watching their expressions carefully. "But really he's one of my closest friends."
"Is he a ghost?" Clint blurts out. Natalia stiffens.
"I don't want to be in a place with a ghost," she says loudly, in English. Clint nods his agreement, then pauses and shakes his head.
"I don't, neither," he declares.
Steve sniffles. "I don't even know where I am!" he suddenly wails. It's surprisingly loud, considering how soft-spoken he's been. He looks distraught.
Thor's brow furrows. "We are on earth."
"Where's earth!" Steve says shrilly, eyes huge and red-rimmed.
"We all live on earth," Tony explains, wondering how a kid can't know about planets. Then again, they are four.
"Earth," Bruce pipes in, apparently eager to share information, "is the planet we live on. Countries and cities are on the planet. So we live in a city, in a country, on planet earth."
"So we live in three places?" asks Steve.
"Yup."
"I'm from Asgard," Thor proclaims, "and I don't know how I got to earth."
Clint scoffs. "Asgard's not real."
Tony blinks. How did a four year old come to hear about Norse mythology?
"Is too!" Thor argues. "I live there!"
"Do not," Clint retorts, crossing his arms.
"I do!"
"He does," Tony cuts in firmly. "I don't want to hear any more arguing over it, either."
Now Barton looks astonished. "Really?" he gasps. "D'you know Thor?"
Thor screws up his face. "I am Thor."
"Are not," Clint accuses. "Yer jus' a kid!"
"Okay!" Tony claps his hands. "Let's talk about this later. Tomorrow, or maybe never. Now is... now is bedtime. Or bathtime. Whichever."
"I saw the bathroom," Natalia says suddenly. "It looks fake."
"Fake?" Tony repeats, nonplussed.
"Bathrooms don't look like that," she answers. "It's fake."
"It's not fake," Tony sighs, "it's -"
"Natalia said it's 1932," interrupts Steve, eyes filling with tears again. "But it's not, I know it's not, cos I have a caleddar by my bed an' it says 1922, I know it does -"
Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck, Tony hadn't thought of this either. "Well, Natalia's wrong," he tries, "and, actually, so are you. It's, um -"
"It's 1974," Bruce argues. "Dad's got a caleddar too -"
"D'you happen to mean 'calendar'-?"
"I think Bruce is right," says Clint, looking troubled, "cuz I was born in 19...1973-"
"Oh my god," Tony realizes, "you're older than me -"
"Nuh uh," Bruce argues, turning to Clint. "You said you're four, so it's 1977 for you -"
"But why!" Steve shrieks, and they all go quiet.
"Because," autopilot, autopilot, oh god stop, "it's 2013."
Tony winces as their stares all turn to him.
"Is not," Clint says finally.
"Is too," he can't help but snark back.
"But why?" Steve repeats tearfully. His breaths are starting to sound more ragged.
"Magic," Tony blurts. "Magic brought you all here."
"Magic isn't real," Natalia says disdainfully.
"Magic is real," Clint says, perking up along with Thor. "I knew it!"
"I don't like magic," whines Steve. "I wanna go home."
"And I'm trying to get you home," Tony promises. "But it's going to take time. I'm not a magic expert, I'm a robot expert."
"Robots isn't real," Clint mutters, and Tony has to roll his eyes.
"Seriously?" he demands. "Magic is real, but robots aren't?"
"Uh huh," Clint says defiantly. "I'm in the future cuz magic. I don't see no robots."
"You'll see some tomorrow," Tony promises. Clint just shrugs, dubious, and ohhh, that rankles.
Best not to get into an argument with a kid, he has to remind himself.
"Loki's a magic expert," Thor says with considerable enthusiasm. "My brother is very skilled! He will help us, I am sure!"
Natalia wrinkles her nose. "Where's your brother?"
Thor shrugs, then points to Tony. "I've seen him not, but he -?"
"Uh," says Tony intelligently. He never introduced himself. "Sorry. I'm Tony."
"Tony says he will find my brother!"
"Is your brother Loki?" Clint asks snidely.
Thor grins. "Why yes, he is! And a skilled magic user is he!"
"Is he bluuuue?"
"No? Why would Loki be -?"
"Nope!" Tony interrupts loudly. "Let's not. Go there. Ever." He takes a deep breath as they both fall silent, Thor confused, Clint smirking. "It's true that I'm looking for Loki, and I've seen him do magic. When we find him, he may be able to help us. But for now, we're not going to worry about that. I'm sure we're all tired, aren't we?"
"I'm tired," says Steve, and he looks so damn pitiful Tony almost wants to cuddle him.
Natalia has no such compunctions. "I'm not tired at all," she says flatly.
"Too bad," Tony says dismissively. "Shower time, and you can tell me what you do before bed." He claps twice. "C'mon, kiddies, up you get. Follow me."
It takes a bit of clever wrangling, but eventually he gets all four boys in the tub. Natalia insists she can wash herself, which, thank god. Thor spends the entire time telling tales of his bath adventures in Asgard as Tony washes his hair. Clint does the same, though his stories of finding new and unique ways of getting clean with his older brother on the streets get more horrifying as he goes on; Tony scrubs him extra well. Steve is content to stand under the warm spray, eyes half lidded as he breathes in steam. Bruce's curls are a little harder to clean, which Clint teases him for until Tony tells him off ("Can it, bowl-cut."), at which point he falls silent and enjoys the water temperature with Steve.
When Natalia totters back in, scarlet curls dripping on the floor as she trips over the towel, Tony turns off the shower for the boys and digs up some plain t-shirts for them to sleep in.
"You'll get clothes that fit you tomorrow," he promises, setting Jarvis on discrete delivery of everything a kid could need - healthy food included. As for himself, he's covered in soap and water, so he just changes his clothes and washes his hair with soap in the sink before declaring himself clean.
As it turns out, none of them have any particular routine before bed, except for Thor and Steve, whose mothers tuck them in. Tony balks, but their puppy eyes are legendary. He leads them all to a room down the hall from his own, a storage room of sorts for furniture and bedding. Lucky for him, there are several mattresses as well.
"Okay," he says after all the beds are set up. All the children dutifully pick a mattress and hop in. "Close your eyes and go to sleep. My room's the big door by the bathroom if you need me. Jarvis will help you if you have questions." He turns on his heel and marches to the door. "G'night. I'll see you in the morning."
"Wait!" Steve cries, and Tony turns to see him pointing at his forehead. "I need a kiss goodnight!"
"A what?" Tony says dumbly.
"A kiss!" Steve insists. "To keep the nightmares away!"
"And the bedbugs," Natalia adds.
"Bedbugs?" Tony repeats. "There are no bedbugs in my Tower -"
"Just in case?" Steve pleads, doe eyes dialed to full strength. Tony caves instantly.
"Fine," he whinges, dragging his feet back to their bedsides. "One kiss, then bed. Got it?"
"Uh huh!" Steve smiles brightly. He curls back up underthe covers and Tony drops a quick peck on his brow.
"Go to bed," he says sternly, and turns again.
Thor is looking up at him expectantly.
"Fine," Tony sighs, thoroughly put-upon, and kisses his forehead. "Good night."
There's a small whining sound from Steve's other side. It's Bruce, looking up at him with sleep-blurred eyes. Tony heaves another sigh and kisses him on the nose. When he straightens, Clint and Natalia are watching.
"I suppose you suddenly have night time routines, too?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.
Clint grins. "Don't wanna be left out," he says, and Natalia nods fervently.
"Hold still," Tony instructs, and ducks to peck Clint on the cheek and Natalia on her curls. "Good night," he says sternly, and walks out the door, closing it quietly behind him. He leans against it with an exhausted sigh.
"Jarvis," he groans. "I'm in way over my head."
"You are indeed, sir," his AI responds.
"How long until this is over?"
"Your first day, according to Miss Potts' schedule, starts tomorrow at six a.m."
"Tomorrow?" Tony repeats incredulously. "What about today? Doesn't all this count?"
"I'm afraid not, sir. You've only been interacting with the children for two hours. I believe Miss Potts assumed they would be sent to bed shortly after your call ended."
Tony shakes his head and lurches down the hall towards his room. "Great. Wake me up never."
"Very good, sir. Sleep well."
"Hnnng." He flops on to the bed, spread-eagled, and falls asleep immediately.
For a little while.
"Tony?" A tiny voice says. Tony grumbles, still half-asleep, and turns his head just far enough to see a small figure silhouetted by the hallway light in his doorway. "I can't sleep," and he somehow recognizes the voice as Thor's. "I sleep with my brother, but I am alone, and so sleep won't come."
Tony lifts a heavy hand and beckons. "C'mere," he mutters, too tired to scrounge up any fucks. Thor approaches. He indicates an empty spot on the massive bed. "Sleep here. G'night."
He almost hears a small "thank you" as he falls right back asleep.
Only to be woken again.
It's Natalia this time. "I'm cold," she whispers, and he just waves a hand at the pillow Thor declined in favor of Tony's leg. He feels the bed dip as he drifts off again.
Not twenty minutes later, Steve's knocking on the door frame.
"What is it?" Tony asks, aggrieved. Steve's shoulders jump up to his ears.
"Everyone was gone," he answers meekly. "I got lonely."
Well then. "Plenty 'a space," Tony mumbles, finding he can't move his arm since Natasha's clinging to it. "Pick a spot and go to sleep, goddammit."
"Okay." He lifts the covers, letting out the warm air, and stretches out along Tony's thigh. The tired man doesn't even bother telling him that spot wasn't available.
He's mostly expecting it when Bruce comes in. "I didn't have enough blanket," is his excuse, so Tony invites him in. He happily drapes himself over Tony's ankles, trapping him. Great. He's just going to stay awake until -
"Um."
"What?" You can forgive Tony for being a little snappish by this point.
Clint's silhouette winces. "It's dark. I wanted a nightlight." He pauses. "It's kinda blue in here. You got one?"
"In my chest," Tony replies.
"Can I see?"
"Why not?" Tony rolls his tired eyes and allows the boy to curl up against his ribs with his head close to the arc reactor. "Are we all good now?"
Murmurs of assent from them all.
"Good. Now, I'm serious this time. Go to sleep."