A/N: Hello~ So sorry for the slightly slower updates. I've been incredibly busy, but I have a day off on Tuesday so if you follow my other story, 'I am Iron Man,' then you can most likely expect an update then. So sorry. Thanks for all the support, please comment. -Airbrushed
The team was piled into one of Tony's larger cars, with Steve at the wheel and Tony in the passenger seat. Natasha and Bruce sat in the middle row while Clint and Thor remained in back. The drive back to the tower was slow and surprisingly quiet. Tony seemed to be either too tired to speak or didn't know what to say. To be honest, he wasn't entirely sure himself.
One thing he knew for sure, though, was that he was not looking forward to one of their inevitable team 'talks.' Steve's 'lectures' never bode well for him. It was always 'Why did you do that? What's wrong with you?!' or 'Are you out of your god damn mind?! I thought you were supposed to be a genius!' Oh, and let's not forget 'You could have gotten yourself killed!'
The thing is; he already knows that. He runs the calculations. He knows the math. He knows because he does it in that split second before the others can protest. It's not about him, and though he would do anything to protect his team, it's not even completely about them. It's about everyone; past, present, and future. So yes, he told Barton to take the shot, but it's one life versus every citizen unfortunate enough to get caught in the line of a repulsor blast. It's every man, woman, or child who has to die for his mistakes. Why save one man, when you can save hundreds? Why save one man, who has been the indirect cause of death more times than he's saved a life? He's done that math, too, and his math is always right. So he knows what they're going to say, because it's the same thing every time, but he does it anyways.
Before he knows it, they're pulling into the lower garage of the tower. He realizes he's been staring thoughtfully out the window for the duration of the car ride, and mentally curses himself for looking like an emotional teen.
When Steve parks the car, he all but sighs in relief; hastily reaching with his good arm to open the car door. Suddenly he's faced with a new problem.
He looks down at his right leg with a scowl, though the expanse of dicks permanently stained on the thigh of his cast do not move. They stay, despite Tony's disapproving glare. He looks around at the rest of the team, who had already managed to pile out of the vehicle. When Thor notices his predicament, he rushes over to help, but is stopped by Tony's hand sprawled over his chest.
"Nope; I think I've lost enough of my dignity for one week. I can walk on my own," He states with his head lifted proudly, a determined look taking over his features.
Bruce sighs and snakes a hand through his hair, "Tony, you have a broken leg, you can't just-"
"Ah!" Tony points a finger at his disapproving friend, effectively cutting off his scolding, "No. There are no can't's. I am a scientist. We are scientists. There are no can't's in science, Dr. Banner."
Bruce just rolls his eyes, grabbing the hospital provided crutches out of the back seat of the car, "There are a few, Tony. Now if you must walk on your own, then you can at least use these. Please."
Tony eyes the silver crutches in Bruce's grasp, "Um, when did you get those? You actually expect me to hobble around like a damsel in distress? I mean come on, please. I can walk, I'm fine." He waves his hand dismissively, stepping out of the car first with his left leg, which is followed shortly by his casted right leg. He's noticeably unsteady on his feet, but he braces himself against the open car door for support as he regains his balance, "See? No big dea-" He stumbles forward, though before he can hit the ground, he instead ends up with a face full of Thor's chest, "Okay, ow. Jesus Thor you're like an actual rock."
Thor simply gives the billionaire a broad smile as he helps the man stand up right, "Are you alright, Man of Iron?"
"Yes, Thor. I am perfectly fine. I did not sustain any major injuries from colliding face first into your cement chest. Can we please go inside now?" He reaches a reluctant hand out to Bruce, who lets out an exasperated sigh before handing over the crutches.
"Come on, Tony," Steve says, who had been quietly watching the situation play itself out from his place leaning against the hood of the car. Tony had to take a minute to gather his thoughts, because damn. Who knew Captain America looked so good next to cars? And why the hell is he even thinking this? Cars make almost everyone look great. Almost.
"Um, yeah, fine." He gives the offending crutches one last death glare before placing one under each arm. Moving away from the car and towards the garage elevator, he does his best to look as completely unaffected by the situation as possible. He's pretty sure he's managing that okay, because Steve, Thor, Bruce, and Clint don't seem to notice how idiotic he feels. Natasha on the other hand, well, that's a different story. With Natasha, no matter how well Tony has perfected each individual mask of his, that woman has one that's just that much better than his. Because of this, he's like 98% positive that she can see right through his well crafted façade just about any time, which is quite unfortunate for him.
When he steps, or rather, hobbles, into the elevator, he's greeted by his favorite person in the world; mainly because he isn't technically a person at all.
"Welcome home, Sir. It is good to see you well."
The genius allows the slightest slip of a smile, though he conceals it by bowing his head as the rest of the team piles into the lift after him, and responds with an affectionate, "Thanks, J."
The elevator goes up on its' own accord, or rather, Jarvis'. He seems to know exactly where to go most of the time without Tony ever having to say a word. Normally he'd have made a break for his workshop by now, but he's not entirely sure that would work out in his favor, considering he probably wouldn't get very far and even if he did, he'd be dragged back to the common floor or his own bedroom by a very annoyed Avenger.
So common floor it is.
The elevator doors open and Tony hastily (as fast as one can with crutches) makes his way into the living room. He immediately wanders over to the couch and plops himself down, grabbing the blanket draped over the back and his tablet that had been conveniently left on the side table. He's vaguely aware that the others had followed him to the couches, because the other side of where he's lounging dips slightly under someone's weight, though he doesn't look up from his tablet.
"Tony."
He can practically feel the eyes on him, and he knows this isn't going to be fun but he also knows there's no getting out of it. He decides to enjoy his last moments of freedom while he can because, well, there's no way anyone is letting him out of their sight for a long time. Not because they care. No, because no one really cares about Tony Stark, but because he's their tech guy, their weapons guys. He's their wallet, and he owns their roof. So they'll stick around him because, for now, he's useful. But he knows it won't last. It never does.
"Tony," The chastising voice tries again, and damn could he please just have a moment to himself?
He stares down blankly at his tablet for another moment before finally, reluctantly, turning it off. He forces himself to turn it face down in his lap, and crosses his arms over his chest as he looks up with the fakest smile he can muster, "Go ahead."
As it turns out, Steve is the one who had chosen to accompany him on his couch, but of course he did because Captain America is the team leader, and it's his job to care, or in Tony's case, pretend to care. Natasha, Bruce, and Clint had taken the other couch while Thor had claimed the recliner.
Steve raises his eyebrow in question, as if he seriously doesn't know what Tony is talking about, "Excuse me?"
Tony just rolls his eyes. He's too busy for this; he's already missed out on like a week's worth of work, and not to mention the major suit repairs that need to be done. "Go ahead," He repeats, his tone slightly annoyed by this point, "Yell at me; tell me I need to be more careful. Tell me what I did was stupid and I could have died. Seriously, it's practically a routine. I can do it for you if you'd like?"
"No," Steve interrupts, "No, Tony that's not-"
The billionaire just continues anyway, using his best imitation of Steve's 'Captain America voice,' "Tony, what you did was reckless and stupid. I should suspend you from the team for what you did." He points a stern finger before taking a breath, and then somehow manages to imitate himself, "But Ice Pop, that's just what I do! It doesn't matter, everyone's alive!" He switches back to 'Captain America,' "But Tony, that's not the point! We care about your well being!" Again, he switches to himself, "My well being? Why, I'm touched but we both know that's a load of shit-"
"Tony! Will you please, just shut up and listen!" Steve practically growls at him, and the billionaire immediately stops talking. "First off, I'm not mad at you, and I'm not suspending you from the team. It wasn't your fault," He takes a breath, eyeing the billionaire and forcing him to meet his gaze, "Second, we do care about you. We care about Tony Stark, not just Iron Man."
Tony actually doesn't know what to say, half because he expects Steve to just start laughing any minute and say "Just kidding!" and half because Steve also sounds like he means it, but of course that's impossible. Before he can say anything, though, Steve continues.
"You saved a lot of people before Loki took control of the suit. Those men from the conference room, when they woke up they asked the medics to thank you for saving their lives."
"I didn't- I…" The billionaire struggles to find his words, "There was one more. I didn't save them all. Loki got to me before I could save the last man."
"Naye!" Thor booms from his place on the recliner, "This man you speak of, I brought him to safety once my brother had been dealt with. He is well."
"Oh," Tony scratches the back of his neck with his good arm, "uh, thanks, Thor." He awkwardly clears his throat, throwing quick glances at his team mates, "Great. So I take it we're done here?"
"Done? We're not done-"
"Jarvis, baby, TV, if you please," Tony ignores the looks he's getting from his team, specifically Steve because he just cannot handle his star spangled scowl of disapproval at the moment. It's too similar to Howard's, which is probably where dear old dad picked it up, now that he thinks about it. Small world.
"Sir, I'm not sure that's the best-"
"Jarvis. TV, if you please." His tone has gone a bit stricter, and he almost feels bad because even though Jarvis doesn't technically have feelings, it always seemed like he does. He can't help it right now though. He's been in the hospital for a week, he can't tinker around in his workshop because of his stupid broken arm, and the team just won't leave him be for now.
Jarvis seems to hesitate for a moment, but seeing as he has no choice the TV flicks on. The screen shows the local news station, a dark haired woman standing in front the Stark Industries building and holding a microphone as she speaks.
"We have just gotten news that Mr. Stark, also known as Iron Man, was just released from the hospital earlier this morning. It is unclear what the situation is over at Avengers tower, but there is much debate about Mr. Stark's ability to protect the citizens like he has sworn to do. Many believe that these recent events were not an accident, and that this attack was set up by Tony Stark himself. Thankfully no one was critically injured, save a small handful of business men that have been hospitalized. However, the question remains; was this purely an accident? Or did Tony Stark purposefully attack his company and his team? Iron Man; Hero or villain?
Tony is staring at the screen, his body tense and his eyes fixed on the reporter. He swallows hard, trying to will away the labored breaths that have begun threatening his lungs. His ears start to ring until he can no longer hear her voice, or anyone's for that matter, and his vision goes a little blurry. 'Not here, not in front of the team,' he pleads with himself, though he knows it's a losing battle. He thought he was finally getting better; there had been a lot less nightmares lately, until Loki returned. He tried to reason to himself that he was not, in fact, panicking, and that it was just the fault of his minor concussion, but deep down he knew it was a lie. He brought a hand up protectively over the arc reactor, tapping a nervous rhythm in hopes of calming his nerves, but it was no use. He was too far gone.
'You better stop pretending to be a hero.'
Natasha seems to notice the quickening rise and fall of the billionaire's chest first, because she responds in an instant before the reporter can continue talking, "Jarvis, turn it off."
The TV flicks off, and Tony would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little bit thankful, but that doesn't change anything. He knew there was something off about that fight with Loki; he could have easily killed Tony and the other Avengers with control of the suit. He wasn't using the opportunity to its full potential. How could he not have seen this coming? The words of Ivan Vanko from the Monaco incident flash through his memory, sending a shiver up his spine.
'If you can make God bleed, the people will cease to believe in him. And there will be blood in the water, and the sharks will come.'