Chapter Eighteen: Etiquette

#

Once downstairs, Tony followed the sound of voices to the kitchen and dining room, Arno trailing behind him. Clint had arrived at some point, which meant that either he had wrapped up what he'd needed to do faster than anticipated or Tony had spent far longer curled up on the floor of the shower than he thought. Maybe Arno would be willing to keep that little detail between the two of them. Really, it was fine. It wasn't as though he made a habit of shutting himself into small, enclosed spaces or anything.

"Hey. Everything alright?" Clint asked him, calloused hands moving fluidly through the air. The blond shot Arno a suspicious look over Tony's shoulder. Whatever expression the billionaire gave in response made the archer's eyes narrow.

"I'm fine," Tony answered tiredly, continuing aloud, "You guys don't have to tiptoe around me. It's been a rough few months. I just… I'd just like things to go back to normal, you know?"

Clint's expression softened as he focused back on Tony. "Sure thing, Tones," he said, then waved at the counter. "We've got food."

"I ordered Thai," Pepper spoke up, by way of explaining the copious amount of food on the counter, "but Clint brought pizza with him."

"And their boneless wings and cheesy bread stuff," the blond added, "and a salad for Pepper because I know she likes that stuff."

"That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you for thinking of me," Pepper told him with a warm smile.

"How did I become the third favorite here?" asked Arno, affecting a betrayed tone.

"It's the dimples," Tony and Clint responded in unison. They exchanged grins and high-fived over the counter.

Arno glanced between the two of them, a protest clearly on his tongue before he easily relented. "Yeah, okay, I can buy that. You actually have dimples."

The archer gave an amused snort as he accepted a plate from Pepper and pulled one of the pizza boxes towards himself. "You actually try to pull that?" he asked with an amused glance at Tony. "Dude, you don't have dimples."

"Not that you know of," Tony smirked, pulling a takeout container to himself and peering inside before digging in with a spoon.

Clint paused with a folded slice of pizza halfway to his mouth, eyebrows arched in interest. "Do you have dimples? Where do you––"

"Pass the pad thai," Pepper requested loudly, voice overly polite and a somewhat pained smile on her face.

Tony, Arno, and Clint gave her looks of varying surprise before breaking out into laughter. Arno passed her the requested dish while Clint pressed his forehead against the back of the hand still holding his pizza. Tony chortled into his rice.

Pepper let out a long-suffering sigh. "Boys," she muttered, the corners of her mouth twitching despite herself. The other three laughed even harder.

The tension that had filled the room eased with their collective mirth, a much needed release. They hadn't quite achieved normal––certainly not what had counted for the normal of before––but it did feel like the first step towards a new normal. All they had to do was keep moving forward. Together.

What a novel idea for a group of people who'd had to learn to be self-reliant.

#

Weapons fire filled his ears. Young airmen––too young, even younger than himself––were shouting, telling him to stay put. Except that he was the one firing at them, facing them from the far end of the indoor firing range, the weapon heavy and unwieldy in his small hands...

He stood inside the chair room, waiting for the Asset to be brought in and wiped so he could perform maintenance on the arm.

"Fire, 492," the handler commanded as the professor's gaze burned into him from the observation deck, "do not miss."

Anthony sighted down the barrel and pulled the trigger. The lead vehicle exploded.

One of the lab techs waved impatiently at him, ushering him towards the chair. A harsh shove at his shoulder forced him to take stumbling steps. He could feel his pulse pounding in his own throat.

That wasn't right.

Hands were digging around in his chest. "Hold him still––brat's moving too much." His own fingers moved clumsily, following the wires to the car battery beside the cot.

A guard grabbed him by the back of the shirt, trying to wrestle him forward. The boy fought, struggles increasing when a second guard came to grab him by the arms.

The lab tech shot him a bored look, drawing up his daily injection. "Seems a waste, doesn't it?" she remarked to the handler watching him. "Is it even doing anything?"

"Just do your job. Let somebody else worry about whether the serum's working on him."

Wait. That didn't––

Tony coughed, throat burning as he choked on the rancid water, unable to keep holding his breath. There was no way he could continue like this. He gave in.

He surrendered.

The handler yanked him off the floor, expression a rictus of fury. Anthony bit back a cry of pain. He tried to find his footing, to take some of the pressure off his shoulder as the woman shook him, screaming in his face. "You don't surrender! You are a weapon––other people surrender to you! You either win or you die, understand?!"

There was a thump in the sand beside him as he tried to get a message off to Arno. A missile. Stark Industries brand.

Rough hands strapped him down. The chair was too big for him.

No. No, he wasn't––they never put him in the chair…

Tony hammered away. Any moment now, someone could figure it out. He and Yinsen would die. He'd never see Arno or Clint or Natalia again.

The Asset was screaming as Anthony stood at the edge of the room. Waiting.

A guard was trying to force his mouth open. "Let him place the block, you idiot child. Do you think anyone would care if you bit your own tongue off?" The chair was too big.

The Asset was screa––no. No, not the Asset. Them. They were screaming past the block between their teeth. The professor watched dispassionately from nearby. "Again," he told the technician.

The man flipped the switch. The world vanished into blinding agony––

Tony lashed out, suddenly loose limbs flailing. His fist landed a hit that he immediately followed up with an elbow jab. He blindly threw the rest of his body at his attacker, tackling them to the floor and winding his arm back to deliver another blow.

Sound was the first thing to come back to him, several voices urgently calling his name. Someone grabbed his arm just long enough to yank him back, only to let go and dance out of range as he automatically whirled towards them. Distantly, he realized the loud breathing in his ears was his own.

Blinking rapidly, Tony finally started seeing his surroundings again. He was in the living room at the mansion. In Malibu. He was… He wasn't… His gaze hurriedly swept around as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

Clint seemed to have been the one that had yanked him back from whoever he'd been about to whale upon. "Whoa, easy," he was saying, hands and expression placating. "You're okay. It's alright. Just a nightmare. You're safe now."

"You with us, man?" Rhodey was asking from where he stood in front of a wide-eyed Pepper. When had he..? He must have come while Tony was out. Tony must have dozed off.

"I know I probably deserve it, but this fucking hurts," Arno moaned, causing Tony to turn back to where the man was sprawled across the carpet. The billionaire flinched a bit, wincing as the movement caused him to press too hard against his bleeding face. "God, please say you're awake again. I yield––uncle, I tell you!"

"I'm awake," Tony murmured, blinking away some of his lingering confusion as the remnants conjured by his subconscious mind escaped him. "God, Arno, I'm––"

"Hey, no, I shouldn't have tried touching you while you were asleep," the billionaire cut off the apology. He accepted the hand up Tony offered. "Didn't mean to startle you like that."

"Startle him? I think he's the one that startled all of us," Clint teased good-naturedly, making sure to telegraph his movements as he clapped a hand over Tony's shoulder.

Tony leaned a bit into the touch. "I really am sorry about that," he insisted.

"Man, you've really got nothing to apologize about," Rhodey told him as Pepper returned from the kitchen with some ice and a medkit. "Honestly, I'd be more surprised if you weren't having nightmares. Seemed like a bad one, too. You want to talk about it?"

"I…" Tony began, watching as Arno flinched at Pepper's ministrations. He blinked, a frown pulling between his brows. "I was…"

"You don't have to if you're not ready, Tony," Pepper said kindly, handing off the towel-wrapped bundle of ice to Arno.

"It's not that, I just… It was mostly just scattered moments from the caves and from when I was younger. I can't really remember any of it, now," he replied.

Clint flopped back down onto the loveseat, tugging Tony down beside him. "Well, whatever you were dreaming about, it kinda looked like you were having a seizure or something," he said aloud, inquiring with his hands, "Seriously, who do I need to kill?"

That made Tony crack a smile. Mostly because he was certain Clint was at least half-serious with the offer. He opened his mouth to reply, hands already moving, when JARVIS spoke up.

"I apologize for interrupting, sirs, but Mr. Stane has arrived," the AI informed them.

Tony groaned in protest, head falling against the back of the sofa. "Can we tell him you're not up for any visitors?" he pleaded. Never mind the fact that there were technically three visitors already in the house. They didn't count, though. Clint, Pepper, and Rhodey were all people that Tony liked and trusted. Obadiah just… rubbed him the wrong way. The last thing he felt up for was playing nice with the man.

"You don't have to deal with him, T," Arno told him, tone a bit nasally. "I'll talk to him. You can go rest upstairs."

"There is no way he's going to believe that you just came back from being held captive in a cave," Tony pointed out dryly. Sighing, he moved to stand, only to topple back onto his ass at Arno's next words.

"Well, no, but he knows I'm not the one that got kidnapped."

Tony's attention snapped over to the man. "What?" he demanded.

"Look, Tony, I know you don't like him for some reason, but we had to bring Obie into the loop when you were taken," the billionaire explained. "Without him, someone would have eventually noticed I was still here. And if your captors had figured out they'd taken the wrong person? Tony, I couldn't risk that. We needed his help to keep things under wraps while we searched for you."

"You told him," Tony echoed, unease churning in his stomach as he stared. "He knows."

"I'm sorry, T. I know you really didn't want him to."

Clint stood nearby, looking between the two brunets, clearly deliberating what he should do. Raking his hands through his hair, Tony then signed at him to meet him upstairs. The archer promptly left the room.

"I guess I should at least say hi, then," Tony sighed. He rose to his feet before fixing Arno with a hard look, "I don't want him to know about the arc reactor."

Surprised, Arno immediately protested. "He'll think it's ingenious! He was one of people saying there was no way we could find a practical application for it, that it would always just be some publicity stunt, but you blew that all out of the water in a cave! Tony, we can't just––"

"Arno!" Tony cut in sharply, voice softening when the other man subsided. "Please. I don't… I'm not ready. Please, let's just keep it among ourselves."

Deflating a bit, the billionaire relented. "Of course. It's your choice, since it's inside of you and all, I just… I forgot for a moment that it isn't just an exciting development, but also one of the things you had to achieve in order to survive. Sorry, T."

"It's okay," Tony said. Rhodey and Pepper both readily agreed not to say anything about the device and Tony felt some of the tension start to leave his shoulders.

Granted, said tension came back seconds later when the front door opened and Stane's voice called out, "Anybody home? Arno?" And really, how was that necessary? The man already knew there was somebody home, otherwise, he wouldn't have come in the first place.

"Here in the living room!" Arno called back, easing the bundle of ice back onto his face.

Footsteps echoed along the hall and then Stane was there, standing in the doorway, shrewd gaze taking in the scene. He quirked a brow at Arno. "What happened to you?"

"DUM-E got too enthusiastic with the fire extinguisher," the billionaire responded without missing a beat.

The only man shook his head reprovingly––he was never hesitant to disparage the bots, even if he was holding his tongue for the moment. He stepped further into the room, gaze sweeping briefly over Pepper and Rhodey before coming to rest on Tony. "So," he said, "you must be Tony. I had no idea."

"That was sort of the point," Tony replied, tone light despite his own misgivings. He didn't like the way the businessman was looking at him. Stane's gaze was coldly appraising, calculating. And Tony couldn't decide if the slight undercurrent in the man's tone was real or something he was imagining. He was at least half-certain the fatherly smile the man's face broke into was a lie.

"Well, it's nice to officially meet you," Stane declared, "despite everything you've had to endure. I know Arno is glad to have you back."

"It's good to be back."

Pepper, bless her soul, picked that moment to step in. "Tony was just going up to get some more rest," she said, rubbing a hand soothingly down his arm and giving him a reassuring smile.

"That's right," Arno seconded. "Go. JARVIS will tell us if you need anything."

"Thanks," Tony told them, giving each of his friends a brief smile before making his departure. Of course, the moment he thought Tony was out of earshot, Stane spoke up again.

"He's quite the actor, isn't he? Doesn't seem to act like you, at all."

"Well, he was just tortured and held prisoner for three months," Arno defended, "so, maybe we give him a break."

By that point, Tony was headed up the stairs and no longer able to hear the conversation from the living room. He replayed the interaction in his head as he climbed the steps. Perhaps it was nothing, but Stane hadn't offered Tony his hand when 'officially meeting' him. Not that Tony felt especially broken up about that.

Still, it seemed a rather pointed breach of etiquette.

Or maybe, that was just Tony's dislike of the man talking.

#

To be continued...