Not many people left Tony speechless, but Duo was proving adept at it. Tony didn't like it, but he didn't have an answer for Duo. Would he give it up? Would he walk away? Pepper broke up with him because he couldn't give up the superhero thing. He had the power, he had a responsibility to use it, and he'd be damned if he'd trust anyone but Rhodey with the suit. In light of that, was it fair to ask Duo to give up his own job? If he were a normal cop or first responder, would Tony have been as worried?
Looking at Duo's scars again, he couldn't apologize for asking. How many close calls had his son had?
An upbeat, techno-sounding song began to play something about a pretty kitty.
"Ah, fuck," Duo said, moving to reach behind him automatically.
"Sit still," Bruce said, in the middle of stitching him up.
"Can someone grab my phone?" he asked. "Back right pocket."
Everyone kind of stared uncomfortably before Wanda reached out and used her power to levitate it out and into Duo's reach. He blinked at it for a moment before grabbing it, just as the ringtone stopped.
"Do I even want to know who you use that ringtone for?" Barton asked.
Before Duo had a chance to answer, the song began to play again, and Duo answered, otherwise keeping still for Bruce.
"Hey, Cat," he greeted, then yanked the phone away from his ear.
"Stay still!" Bruce snapped, though he paused as they could all hear someone yelling.
"Duo Maxwell! Why do I have to hear about you nearly getting killed from the police?"
Duo pulled the phone back to his ear. "They're exaggerating. I wasn't in any real danger—"
"He was shot," Tony said, pitching his voice so it would probably carry to the phone. Duo glared at him as the person on the phone exploded.
"You were shot!"
"Grazed!" Duo corrected hastily. "I was grazed."
"You had better be in a hospital!"
"Dr. Banner is stitching me up as we speak. It's fine."
Cat wasn't yelling anymore, so Tony couldn't hear what was being said. He was really, really tempted to hack the phone or just have FRIDAY put it on speaker. Considering how Duo had reacted last time he hacked his phone, he held back.
Duo listened for a minute before bursting out, "It's not my fault this time! Why does everyone automatically assume I did something?"
Tony could relate. Bruce tied off the stitches and slapped a gauze pad on with some medical tape, pressing just a little harder than necessary.
"Ow!" Duo twisted away from him. "Bruised rib, okay? That fucking hurt."
"More than the stitches?" Bruce asked.
"Obviously," Duo snapped back before turning back to the phone. "For the love of—no, you do not need to come to New York. I don't need a fucking babysitter."
Tony rather thought that was debatable.
"For—put your better half on. He's got more sense." He paused then said, "Will you please tell Cat he's being ridiculous and that you do not need to come check on me?" He leaned forward, looking defeated. "Of course you agree with him. Look, I'm staying in fucking Avengers Tower now, with Stark. Even by our standards, you'd be hard pressed to find somewhere more secure. You know if he shows up here, it's going to become a fucking media circus."
Who the hell was Duo talking to? Media circus? Then again, how did someone find out through the police that Duo had been attacked? Who would the police have notified?
Or maybe he wasn't notified specifically about Duo's attack as much as he'd been notified there was an attack, and he'd assumed it was Duo. There hadn't been much time to wonder about it, but Duo had been staying in a high-end room at one of the premier hotels in the city. He told the detective that he had connections and said that Tony owed WEI a new window. Why would he care?
Cat. Media circus. WEI. There was only one person attached to Winner Enterprise Industries who might cause a media circus.
No fucking way.
"Fine, whatever. Katte ni shiro. See ya tomorrow." Duo hung up the phone, sighed and looked at Tony. "Hope you don't mind housing two more?"
"Not at all," Tony said. "But how long were you going to wait to tell me that your friend Cat is actually Quatre Winner? How do you even know him? I know everyone, and I don't know him."
Duo sighed. "That's because you're earth-based and Quat spends most of his time in space."
"Not going to deny it?" Tony asked.
"Well, he's going to be here tomorrow, so trying to hide it seems counterproductive at this point."
"Holy shit. If he shows up here, that could be a media nightmare," Barton said, and Tony had to agree.
"Much as it pains me to admit, Tro won't let that happen," Duo said, leaning back, wincing a little and taking care with his side. "I give Quat a lot of shit, but he's been with Tro for long enough that he knows how to be sneaky, even if he likes to pretend he doesn't. I'll just have him give me a call, we can let him into the garage and have your AI send them straight up."
"You think it won't make news that he's on earth at all?" Tony asked.
Duo grinned. "Quat gets around way more than most people think. He and Tro were already on their way here, which is why they'll be here tomorrow, not in three days, and I'm assuming Tro already has things well in hand."
"Tro…?" Tony prompted.
"Trowa Barton. He's Quat's head of security and his partner, and he's one of the best."
Natasha frowned. "I wasn't aware that Quatre Winner was seeing anyone."
Duo laughed, though it was aborted when it pulled at his side. "Fuck if I know how they get away with it. They're as good as married. The only thing stopping them from doing just that is that Trowa doesn't want the attention. No matter how good he is at fading into the background, if he's Quat's husband, he immediately becomes front-page material."
"Any chance he's related to our Barton?" Tony asked.
"No way." Duo shook his head. He pushed himself off the stool and stumbled. Before Tony could move, Barnes was at his elbow. "Whoa. Thanks. Adrenaline crash," Duo said, and chuckled to make it a joke. "I'd like to get cleaned up, but I can probably sleep now, so, yay?"
Tony frowned. "How often do you skip sleep?" he asked. Several of the team coughed and snorted, and yeah, he got the irony of him asking that question. He ignored them.
"I don't usually do it on purpose, but I already told you I don't sleep on a ship if I don't know the pilot. I was up all night, lost six hours because of the time zone change, and then I spent most of yesterday at the precinct again. I just couldn't sleep when I got back to the hotel—which given I was attacked, it's probably a good thing I wasn't."
"You're safe here," Tony said, hoping Duo would believe him.
Duo met his eyes. "I know that." He turned to look for his bag, but Cap handed it to Barnes.
"You're not carrying this," Barnes said.
"Don't get your stitches wet," Bruce added.
Duo gave him a disbelieving look that made Tony and several others chuckle. "You're kidding, right? You think I don't know how to take care of wounds?" He gestured to his whole chest.
"You're tired," Bruce replied without apology. "A reminder never hurts."
Duo rolled his eyes. "Yes, mom." And, wow, did that make Bruce look adorably flustered or what? "Same room as before?" he asked.
"Yeah," Tony said. "There's some extra clothes in there for you too."
"Thanks," he said, then turned and backed away from Barnes. "I'll let you carry the bag, but try to pick me up again, Terminator, you really will need another arm." He was teasing but the warning carried an undertone of sincere threat. He believed he could do it. Then again, he'd taken out a Hydra team without apparently missing a beat, so maybe the confidence was deserved.
When Duo walked away toward the elevator, Tony stared. Given the density of tattoos on Duo, he shouldn't be surprised that he had tattoos on his back, but he wasn't expecting a complete backpiece. White angel wings shielded black devil wings, so real they looked like you could touch them. They reached from the tops of his shoulders to the ends of the wings disappearing under the waist of his pants. At some point, the wings may have stood alone, but now there was a detailed knotwork cross between his shoulder blades, the arms of the cross just visible before the wings hid them, going up to the back of his neck and into the dip where the wings sprouted from, the ornate point resting at the small of his back.
Wings on his back, broken, bleeding wings on his collar, a phoenix on one arm and a dragon on the other… Symbols of flight and fire and death. Just who the hell was his kid?
.o0o.o0o.o0o.
Bucky couldn't decide what to make of Stark's kid; all he knew was that he was drawn to him. There was no reason for him to want to be near him, to offer to help him. Bucky knew being near his kid was a guaranteed way to make Stark's blood pressure go through the roof, but he couldn't help it. The last time Bucky was this drawn to someone was Steve, only Maxwell didn't need anyone's help or protection.
He followed Maxwell into his room, not surprised that the kid remembered where it was even though it had been over a month.
"I need to get cleaned up. Black is great for not showing blood, but my whole fucking leg is sticky with it," Maxwell said. "You can leave the bag on the bed." He rubbed at his eyes in obvious fatigue before heading into the bathroom.
Before he thought about it, Bucky made to follow him, at least until the door nearly slammed in his face.
"What do you think you're doing?" Maxwell asked.
"You've had a fair amount of blood loss. If you collapse and hit your head, Stark will kill me," he said, which was all true.
Maxwell rolled his eyes, but the effect was somewhat ruined when he followed it immediately with a huge yawn.
"Fine, Fido. Go sit on the bed and talk to me. I'll leave the door cracked. You're not coming in with me, but if I fall over, you'll be right there. That work?" he asked.
As far as compromises went, Bucky could work with that one. He nodded and went to lean against the desk.
"I'm not much of a talker these days," he warned.
"That's fine. I've got plenty of questions, so all you have to do is answer them," Maxwell said, voice carrying easily through the cracked door. His boots must have been kicked off, because they clunked to the floor. He heard Maxwell unbuckle his belt, pull it off, then his pants unzip. Listening to him undress was intimate enough that Bucky was relieved when Maxwell said, "You can start with telling me what the fuck is up with Stark and Rogers."
Bucky frowned. "What do you mean, up with them?" he asked.
He could hear Maxwell's exasperation through the door. "Rogers positively walks on eggshells around Stark, and Stark is doing a great imitation of a kid pretending someone isn't there. I had a little time to read up more on this whole Avengers thing while I was in Brussels." The sink started running, but Maxwell talked over it. "There's plenty of coverage about the so-called 'Civil War' thing and the Sokovia Accords stuff, but no one really knows what kicked off the whole mess. Since you were there, I thought you could enlighten me."
He was a little surprised Maxwell had noticed. How uncomfortable Steve was around Stark was obvious to Bucky, but he knew Steve better than anyone. He hadn't thought it was that obvious to others. "It was about me," he admitted.
The water turned off. "How so?"
"Steve found out I killed Stark's parents. Stark found out Steve knew."
Maxwell's voice sounded a little farther away, but he could also hear the sounds of someone washing. "Okay, I get why that could be traumatic. But you're here, so that can't be all there is to it."
Bucky really did not want to talk about this, but if anyone deserved to know, he supposed it was Stark's son. Besides, Vision liked the kid and would probably tell him if he asked. Better to get it from a primary source. "Apparently Steve knew for two years and didn't tell Stark."
"Oh, for fuck's sake." The heavy, wet sound of a washcloth hitting the side of the shower echoed back at him. "Two years? It'd be one thing if he didn't tell him for like a month or two, but two years?"
Even Bucky could admit, it hadn't been one of Steve's better moments. "It was in the middle of the Sokovia Accords, and they disagreed on that too. Stark wanted me to stand trial." The sound of a washcloth being wrung into tub echoed out; then the bath running.
"The Sokovia Accords give official World Security Organization backing to the Avengers, right? But it also restricts your freedom to act, if I understood the jargon." The faucet shut off again, the sound of a washcloth being wrung again rang loudly off the hard surfaces of the bathroom.
"That's about right. Steve didn't—well, he still doesn't—like the idea of not being allowed to go somewhere if someone needs help because of a piece of paper. Answering to anyone other than ourselves makes him nervous too."
"And he definitely didn't want you to stand trial," Duo finished for him. "I get that. But I can also understand why Stark wants some oversight, not to mention some help bankrolling all this."
The sink was running again, and it sounded like it was being filled.
"What do you mean, bankrolling?" Bucky asked.
"Well, I would think before SHIELD went up in flames, they helped supplement his costs, but the tech you guys use? It's all cutting edge and expensive as hell. I mean, sure, Stark can afford it, but with all the law suits and the insurance on top of what the hell ever else he was spending just to keep the team kitted out—"
Bucky didn't realize he'd gotten up and shoved the door open to stare at Maxwell until he met startled purple eyes. "What do you mean law suits?"
"Really?" Maxwell demanded, annoyed. He had an oversized towel wrapped low around his waist, and he yanked it up, but not before Bucky got a look at a long, recent, scar running horizontally, low on his abdomen. The gauze over his stitches looked dry, but the promised bruise was blooming on his ribcage made it clear that whatever happened to his stomach was healed enough that there was no bruising around it.
"Did someone try to gut you?" Bucky asked.
Maxwell glared. "Look, with SHIELD out of the picture—"
"What happened to your stomach? That's not two years old," Bucky interrupted, not caring whatever else Maxwell was trying to talk about.
"It also wasn't a wound," Maxwell snapped back impatiently. "Just drop it."
"Stark needs to know if someone has been hunting—"
"Muerte mía, no one has been hunting—"
"Then where did it come from?"
Maxwell glowered and pushed past him, going for the dresser rather than his bag. He began talking as he searched. "There's no official sanction of any kind for the Avengers. Because Stark's literally one of the top two richest people in the entire earth sphere, people have been coming at him left, right, and center for damages incurred by the Avengers. If he were anyone other than Tony fucking Stark, it would have bankrupted him months ago." He opened several drawers, pulling out some clothing that looked brand new, then turned and leaned against the dresser. He nudged Bucky out of the way as he went back into the bathroom, this time shutting the door almost all the way. "There are practical reasons to be willing to sign the Accords beyond the general fact that having some oversight and higher authority is probably a good idea."
Bucky would never say he was the smartest kid at the table. Among the brilliant minds in the Avengers, he was probably squarely at the bottom of the pack, but even so, Maxwell's understanding of the situation left him feeling downright stupid in comparison, even if it didn't distract him from that strange scar. He knew that T'Challa covered all of their expenses while they'd been in Wakanda, but somehow he hadn't thought about who was doing it after SHIELD went down. He didn't think Clint, Steve, or Sam did either. It wouldn't have even occurred to Wanda, he was sure, which left Vision, who had sided with Tony, and Bruce and Natasha, who also probably knew.
He heard tags get snapped off, paper and plastic crumpled, and the sounds of Maxwell getting dressed. The water started running in the tub, and trash was thrown away before the door opened again, showing Maxwell dressed in a black V-neck long-sleeve and sweatpants. The skull in the hollow of his throat sat framed in the V. "Did you really never wonder?" he asked, something in his voice that Bucky couldn't name.
"I was recovering from nearly a hundred years of brainwashing. Sorry I didn't think about how the Avengers were funded," he snapped, anger coming quick and furious on the heels of his frustration, and with it the desire to lash out physically.
Maxwell shocked him by moving into his space and placing a calming hand on Bucky's raised left fist. He didn't flinch from the metal hand at all, meeting Bucky's eyes. Whatever Bucky expected to see in Maxwell's eyes, it wouldn't have been calm or understanding. "I'm sorry," Maxwell said, and his voice rang with sincerity. "I wasn't trying to pry or to hurt you."
As fast as the rage had come, it melted away in the face of impossible purple eyes. "I didn't mean to snap," he said, putting his hands in his pockets. Even though he couldn't feel Maxwell's skin on his hand, he could feel the weight of it, and he missed it as soon as he'd moved. No one touched him anymore, and they definitely didn't touch the metal arm.
"I figured, if it helps. You're not telling me something I wasn't already pretty sure of." Maxwell waited a beat before going to pick up the pile of clothing, continuing over to the bath and turning off the faucet. He dropped the clothing into the half-full tub, pulled his sleeves up slightly before he knelt down to push the clothing down, facing the bath and asked, "So if you're all still divided on the Accords, what is everyone doing back here?"
"Stark's trying to work out a middle ground and invited us back."
Maxwell looked over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. "And you just… came back?"
Bucky crossed his arms. "He's also helping me, with the… you know."
To his credit, Maxwell looked curious but not in a creepy way. Still, Bucky didn't want to talk about this. "So about that scar?" Bucky asked, desperate for a change of subject. "Stark should know."
"There's nothing to know. Leave it the fuck alone."
"You said you hadn't been wounded—"
"And I haven't." He took a visible breath, his shoulders rising and falling with it. "Can you just drop it? Please?"
"Not unless I know it's not dangerous."
"It's not," Maxwell said, running a hand over his face, looking wearier than even the first night in the Tower when he'd been delirious with exhaustion.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Bucky didn't like it and wouldn't be forgetting it any time soon, but he let Maxwell off the hook. "So, you're on Stark's side of the Accords?" he asked, sitting back.
A subtle tension went out of Maxwell at the change of subject. "I didn't have a chance to get into the nitty gritty, but from the overview I got, I see both sides," he said, turning back to the clothing in the tun. "I was Rebellion during the Eve Wars. I understand the need to do something no matter what the authorities say. I know what it means to live under corrupt and unjust systems and to feel helpless in them. I can also see why parts of the team would be super skeptical about having another authority to answer to. Enhanced registration is batshit insane and just asking for trouble. Way too easy to abuse against the good people who are willing to sign, and useless against people who are going to use their abilities for bad shit anyway."
"But?" Bucky prodded when it seemed Maxwell wasn't going to continue, because there was a "but."
He stood back up, dried his hands on a hand towel, and met Bucky's eyes. "But the only ones who answer to no one are terrorists. You mean well, but if you only play by your own rules… what really separates you from the bad guys?"
The only ones who answer to no one are terrorists. Was it really that simple? No—it couldn't be, because Steve was way smarter than Bucky, always had been, and if it were that simple…
If it were that simple, why was everything still so fucked up?
"Just an outsider's POV. Should probably have Quat take a swing at it while he's here. He's not technically a lawyer, but I can't think of anyone I know who's better at that shit." Bucky didn't reply since Maxwell seemed to be thinking aloud rather than talking to him.
He turned off the bathroom light and shepherded Bucky into the room, going over to sit on the bed, looking wrung out. Bucky felt bad for going down this path when Maxwell was already so running on fumes.
"I'll—"
"While I'm thinking of it, one more question for you, before you head out," Maxwell interrupted.
Bucky's head was already swimming with the information and opinions Maxwell had given him. "Shoot," he said.
"When someone shoots a gun, do you blame the gun or the person who shot it?"
What the? "The person, obviously."
"Why?"
"Because a gun can't shoot itself," Bucky said, annoyed at the obviousness of the question and answer.
Maxwell smiled, a small, somehow triumphant flicker, but still there. "Next time you start to obsess on what you did while you were brainwashed, you should keep that in mind."
Bucky stared. "I'm not a gun," he said, because he wasn't. He was so much worse than a gun.
"Weren't you?" Maxwell asked.
He did not run away; he beat a strategic retreat.
.o0o.o0o.o0o.
AN: I am really hoping I'm not shooting myself in the foot here, but for the second update, my beta is ahead, so you got a double-sized chapter, because I'm posting two together. I also really like both of these chapters and have no sense of delayed gratification.
Also, I posted a missing scene (the scene where Jesus's sister tells Duo he has to take Jesus's ashes to Soledad), and tried my hand at one of Duo's tattoos, so if you're curious, you can find them on my Tumblr under Angelselene. If you search the #Standwithoutflinchingfic, they should come up too.
katte ni shiro – 勝手にしろ—literally, "Do as it pleases yourself." Subtext can be more like "have it your way!", "whatever!" or even "go to hell!"
In general, I've avoided random Japanese, but as Duo's talking to Quatre and Trowa, who are at least as multilingual as he is, I figured he'd be more likely to slip into another language if it expressed his sentiment better. "Do as it pleases you" doesn't have the same punch or implication (though I have Duo use it earlier in the fic, but he's talking to Tony so he translates it). Katte ni is from "as one pleases." Shiro is command form of "do" and it's pretty rude. Together, it's got this background implication that you're being selfish, doing as you will instead of what someone else wants. Since I think that is the exact sentiment he's going for, and since Quatre and Trowa would understand it, he uses the exact words he means.
The change from "Cat" to "Quat" – just in case this confused anyone or if you're not that familiar with GW. Quatre isn't pronounced like the Spanish version of the name with the kwa sound we use for qu, it's more like the French "kat-tra." Since this scene is in Tony's POV, he hears "Cat." Once he figures out "Cat" is Quatre Winner, the name changes.
Muerte mio - should be a pretty obvious play on "My God" or Dios mio, except, of course, Duo swears by Death not God. I think I've got the conjugation right, but if anyone knows better, I will take correction.
Anyone want to take a stab at Quatre's ringtone? I know Wufei's too, but his would be way harder to guess from the narrative.