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Sorry that this took a minute to update. I sincerely hope that you enjoy this chapter.
It's Fury's idea, originally, that all the Avengers should move into Stark Tower. Some sort of fucked-up team-building exercise. Tony doesn't want to consider the fact that he could have told Fury no, and that would have been that. It's much easier to allow himself to think that Fury pressured him into it. That way, there's someone else to blame when things don't work out. And he can ignore the fact that he, actually, lowkey, fucking want the Avengers to move in with him and be his friends.
Which of course is a ludicrous idea and fucking stupid and he only lets them move in because Fury asks him nicely.
And maybe then he finds out that Bruce is an actual intelligent being that gives him a run for his money for once and spends many glorious weekends with him, knee-deep in impossible and improbably theories. He also introduces Tony, and the rest of the team, to the wonderful world of herbal teas and Tony figures his life is never going to be the same again.
And that Cap might have a stick up his ass, but he cooks the most delicious food Tony has ever tasted since his mom died and he's actually good company. He doesn't know a lot about the modern world and the things his teammates are interested in, but he listens attentively and remembers everything, everything, that they tell him.
And that Clint has a sense of humour so dark it's basically midnight and for once Tony can crack all the terrible, horrifying jokes he likes and Clint actually enjoys them. He also helps Tony figure out a way to make his blasters even more accurate, which he didn't think was possible but apparently, Clint just sees stuff like that.
And that Thor is weird in the best possible way in that he has no real sense of personal space and just fucking hugs people whenever he feels like they need it. He's never cold, thanks to some kind of Asgardian perk, and it's also the easiest thing in the world to convince him that all kinds of crap are just a normal earth thing. Maybe he and Clint have too much fun with that, but Thor comes back swinging and soon the whole tower is embroiled in an all-out prank war.
And that Natasha might be terrifying, but she's also one of the kindest people he's ever met. Unless you steal her food from the fridge, in which case she's just terrifying. She and Cap decide that he and Banner need to train hand-to-hand combat since they might not always have a suit or a huge green rage monster to protect them. Which is terrible and exhausting but also makes him feel inexplicably warm because, well fuck, it's nice when people are concerned about you.
And then after finding out all this shit and realising that maybe, just maybe, he has five great people who are rapidly becoming his friends, Tony fucks it up.
Because he's Tony Stark, and while he may be a talented genius, his main talent is fucking up whatever good things comes his way.
The flight home from Peru is tense, to say the least.
He sits in the back of the plane with Cap and Natasha and Bruce and Thor. Bruce is pretty much out of it, leaning sideways in his harness with an IV pumping a vitamin complex into him. And Tony supposes he should thank heaven for small mercies because he doesn't think that he could stomach Bruce's disappointment right now. Barton is piloting, which is a small mercy as well because he wouldn't be limiting the expression of his displeasure to stanky looks and glares like Cap and Nat are doing. He'd already gotten in a few pointed jabs while they were loading the plane.
Thor isn't looking at him, and he isn't sleeping either like he usually does on the return trip after a fight. That freaks Tony out the most because fucking hell if he's even pissed off Thor.
He would have liked nothing better than to fly home by himself, or maybe just fly away to Antarctica or something and never return to civilisation again. But the suit's thrusters are damaged, thanks to his narrow escape at the warehouse, and even Tony isn't stupid enough to try and fuck off out of the Avenger's lives in a damaged suit.
Or maybe he's giving himself too much credit because he's mostly just here because Jarvis refused to let him fly.
The plane ride is tense and quiet. Nobody says a damn word and Tony tries to relax back into the hard seat. It's no good, but he tries.
When they finally arrive at the helicarrier, floating off-shore near Manhattan, Coulson is waiting for them on the tarmac.
The sight of him makes Tony's throat close up like a fist. The whole Supernanny-spanks-the-team-now thing has him freaked out more than he likes to admit. It's the main reason, mostly, he thinks, why he hasn't tried a stunt like this earlier.
"I'm glad to see everybody walking off this plane," Coulson says. "Let's head to the conference room and debrief quickly. I'm sure you're all more than ready to go home."
"There is much to discuss, Son of Coul," Thor says, giving Tony a significant look. "I am somehow doubtful that this debriefing will be quick."
"Oh?" Coulson says, sounding mildly interested.
Tony's heard that tone from Coulson before, three times to be exact, and for a few minutes, he's seriously tempted to hijack a quinjet. But he forces himself to follow Cap into the helicarrier's winding corridors.
Once they are in the conference room the whole mess comes to light faster than Tony would like, explained in Rogers' calm, precise way. How they had a plan for attacking the terrorist warehouse in Peru, how Tony decided he didn't like the plan, how they argued, how Tony just fucked off on his own (that's not what Mr Goody Two-Shoes says, of course, but the sentiment is the same), how he flew into a trap, how the warehouse was blown up – with Tony mostly inside it.
Coulson listens patiently, his hands folded on the shiny wood in front of him. He looks at Tony a couple of times, but Tony keeps his face expressionless and meets the older man's gaze without faltering.
"I just want to say," he says after Rogers has finished talking. "I was just doing all of you a favour. Why send six people to do a job one person clearly could do easily?"
"Are you fucking kidding?" Natasha hisses. "We thought you were dead, Stark. We had to battle those AIM punks outside while having no idea whether you were dead or alive in that rubble."
"Please refrain from swearing," Coulson says calmly. "It's alright, Nat."
"It is not alright," Thor says, a lot louder than he usually speaks in this room. "I, too, despaired of Stark's life, as well as for the lives of my other comrades in arms."
"Without Stark, we were almost overpowered in that ambush," Cap says quietly. "We made it through, but it could easily have ended very differently. You did nobody any favours by going off on your own, Tony."
"Not my fault if you can't function properly without me or that you have shitty plans," Tony snarls.
"Coulson," Clint says, in that friendly way he has when he's atomic levels of pissed off. "If I break Stark's nose it's not my fault, right?"
Coulson doesn't answer. He just sits there, very quietly, until the room grows still around him.
"We will continue this debriefing tomorrow morning," he says. "Eight o'clock sharp. Stark, you stay behind."
Tony doesn't look at him, can't, because he's afraid that the anxiety wrapping its tendrils around his heart is showing in his eyes as well. He wants to say something, something terrible preferably so that this all can just be over and everybody can leave him alone. But around him, the rest of the team are pushing back their chairs and filing out of the room, and then it's just him and Coulson.
When the door clicks shut behind Cap, Coulson gets up. Tony expects him to walk in his direction, to come and tower over him and tell him how badly he's fucked up, but instead, Coulson wanders over to the sideboard at the end of the room and starts fiddling with a cup. Soon, the smell of coffee fills the air.
"Can I make you a cup?" Coulson asks.
"Uh, yeah," Tony says, although it's probably a bad idea. Caffeine will just worsen his jitters, but at the moment he can't really care.
"Black and two sugar, right?"
It is.
Tony leans back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table, trying to do multiplication tables in his head to at least somehow try and keep himself calm.
Coulson appears in his peripheral vision, carrying two cups of coffee. He sets both down and pushes one in Tony's direction. Then he lowers himself into the chair next to Tony and leans back, cradling his own cup.
For a few moments, they just drink in silence.
"What happened down there, Tony?" Coulson asks.
His body is angled away from Tony, his gaze on the wall in front of him. Somehow, it helps, and Tony finds himself speaking before he can stop himself.
"I just...you know me, Phil. Anthony "Don't-play-well-with-others" Stark?"
"Mm." Coulson sips at his drink. "But that's not what I've been seeing the past couple of months, is it? You work extremely well with the Avengers. Play well with them, too. You invited them to stay in your house. You share a gym and a kitchen with them. Don't parrot that nonsense at me, Tony."
"Just because I lob money and gifts at people doesn't mean that I like them or they like me," Tony says viciously. "I do it all the time to strangers."
"But they're not strangers, are they?" Coulson says, a hint of a smile on his lips.
Tony doesn't know what the fuck Coulson expects him to say to that, so he just jams the rim of the cup against his lips and takes a long swallow. The coffee is too warm, it burns his throat, but at least it's something to keep his mind off the tension building in his chest.
"You still haven't answered my question," Coulson says. "What happened in Peru? Why did you decide to go off on your own?"
Tony shrugs.
"Fuck knows," he says.
"That's not an answer. And please refrain from swearing."
Tony shrugs again.
"Would you like me to tell you what I think?" Coulson asks. "Why you did it? I think you did it because you were afraid. And are afraid now."
"Of what?" Tony scoffs. "Certainly not you, Agent."
"I beg to differ." Coulson doesn't react to the contemptuous tone or the sheer vitriol in Tony's voice. "I think you are afraid of me, Tony. And of Bruce and Steve and Natasha and Clint and Thor. Because somehow, over the past few months, we've become your friends. You like us and respect us, and you don't want to disappoint us. And that scares the hell out of you."
Tony stands, glaring down at Coulson, shaking slightly with what he hopes is anger.
"Bullshit! I don't have to listen to this."
He turns and stalks to the door, but it doesn't hiss open like it usually does, and he turns on Coulson with a snarl.
"You can't keep me here against my will! Open the damn door."
"You're right." Coulson agrees, but the door stays shut. "I can't keep you here if you don't want to stay, and I most certainly wouldn't want to. But if you want to leave then you need to do the adult bit and say it. Tell me, and the rest of your team, squarely that you're leaving and why that is. But you do not get to just go off on your own in the middle of a mission, or in the middle of a discussion. It's not fair, to you or to us."
Tony wants to say that it's not fair that he's shaking, and that he feels like he might cry, and that nothing can just ever be fucking easy.
"Is that what you want?" Coulson presses. "Do you want to leave?"
"No," Tony says thickly, realising that it's true as he says it. "But I...it's fucked already, Coulson, you know it is. They won't...they hate me now."
"They don't," Coulson says firmly. "They're worried about you and they're hurt by what you did, but they don't hate you. Nothing's past repair, kid."
"Well, if it's not fucked now, it will be before long," Tony says sarcastically. "It's just a matter of time before I fuck up every good thing in my life and you fucking know it, Coulson. So just fuck off with your little platitudes and let me leave in peace."
He doesn't know how Coulson manages to move that fast. The one moment he's still sitting calmly by the table, his one leg crossed over the other. The next he's grabbing Tony by the upper arm, bending him forward slightly and bringing his palm down on Tony's backside with four impressively loud cracks that echo in the empty room. For a moment Tony only registers shock, and then pain blossoms on his skin. Even through his pants, it stings like fire.
Coulson pulls him upright. He's very close, his hand still on Tony's arm, and the Look he gives Tony holds a very clear warning.
"I'm done with the language," he says, very quietly. So quietly, that Tony feels like he should hold his breath to properly hear him. "I get that you're upset, Tony, and I understand that the fact that people care about you isn't something you're used to and it frankly scares you out of your wits. But the swearing isn't necessary, and you're going to stop right now."
Tony looks back at him, something buzzing in his chest like a live wire.
"You can fuck right off," he snarls.
Coulson arches both his brows.
"Very well," he says. "If this is the hill you'd like to die on."
Tony tries to break loose, but despite Natasha's intensive training sessions, he's still no match for someone like Coulson. He finds himself bending over the conference table, Coulson's arm across his lower back preventing him from getting back up.
Coulson starts in on him without preamble, his palm cracking down on the seat of Tony's pants. At first, he's too angry to feel it, too busy snarling the worst words he can think off over his shoulder at Coulson. But Coulson pays no heed to his insults, and the fire builds and builds until Tony can no longer ignore it. His ass is on fire, it really is, and Coulson shows no signs of stopping, planting hard smack after hard smack on Tony's butt.
Tony twists, trying to somehow get his butt out of the firing line, clenching his teeth against the stupid part of his brain that tells him he's acting like a dickhead, and Coulson is in the right here, and he should start fucking apologising before the man leaves permanent Supernanny-sized handprints on his butt.
But then Coulson turns his attention to the sensitive undercurve of Tony's butt, and Tony's mind clears with the alarming swiftness of Natasha kicking a man in the balls.
"I'm sorry," he gasps. "I'm done, I'm done."
"Are you?" Coulson says grimly, not letting up.
"Yes!" Tony says, blinking against the tears. "I won't swear anymore, okay?"
He yelps at the final two hard smacks Coulson lands on his butt, and then the spanking stops.
Tony gulps for air, trying to get his breath back, trying to calm his racing heart, trying not to think about the state of his ass. When he's somewhat calmer he realises, with some trepidation, that Coulson's arm is still resting firmly on his back.
"Let's talk about Peru," Coulson says. "What did you do that you shouldn't have done, Tony?"
"Got on a fucking quinjet and went to Peru," Tony says before he can stop himself. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Ah! I didn't – I didn't mean that! Ow!"
The fire that Coulson reignites in his butt is so much worse than the first time. When he stops, Tony is breathing hard, his eyes watering badly.
"Would you like to try that again?"
"Yes, yes, sir. I'm sorry, it just slipped out. I, uh, I disregarded the plan of attack, I went in alone without backup, I almost got myself and my teammates killed and...I called Rogers a dickhead? Does that count?"
"If you feel bad enough about it to mention it, it counts."
"I don't feel bad bout it, per se," Tony says. "It's just – it wasn't really that bad of a plan. Actually, it was a good plan. I was just irritated and being stupid and I didn't want to cooperate."
"I'm glad you're able to recognise that," Coulson says, rather gently considering the fact that he's just lit Tony's ass on fire. "Is that everything? I wasn't there, so I won't know if you keep anything from me. But you will, and if I find out that you're still feeling guilty about it because you didn't let me deal with it now it will not be pleasant."
Tony swallows hard.
"I...I may have fu...screwed up the mission on purpose. But you know that already. I just...I realised that I was beginning to really like them and it freaked me out and I had to push them away somehow before they... before I screwed up without meaning to and they pushed me away."
His voice is raw, and he can't really believe that he's just said that out loud. Coulson touches his shoulder gently, drawing him up to stand in front of him. He puts a hand on Tony's neck, cupping it in warmth.
"Look at me, kid," he says gently. Tony does, his throat closing up at the compassion he finds in Coulson's eyes. "It's going to be okay, I promise. You're not going to screw this up, because I'm not going to let you."
And somehow, despite everything, Tony believes him. He nods against Coulson's hand, trying to blink away the treacherous wetness gathering in his eyes.
"Okay," Coulson says then. "Let's get this over with. Drop your pants before you bend over, please."
Tony can't really fathom taking any more punishment with the condition his butt is already in, but he also has absolutely no wish to argue with Coulson any further. He unzips and unbuckles, dropping his pants and boxers to his knees. The table is still sightly warm where he had been pinned down previously, but the air-conditioned atmosphere is cold on his bare legs. He grabs the far edge of the table, figuring that he'll try to spare Coulson the trouble of keeping him down this time at least.
Coulson moves into position behind him.
He starts off a little slower than the previous time. Tony figures it's because he isn't actively hurling abuse at the man this time around.
Soon, however, he's increasing the intensity and speed of his smacks and Tony's butt is on actual fire again and he's yelping and gasping.
"I'm sorry," Tony hisses after a particularly harsh smack on his left sit spot. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again."
"If you do," Coulson says pleasantly, "You will be paddled, and I promise you it will make this spanking feel like a walk in the park."
"I won't! I'm sorry, please stop."
But Coulson doesn't.
"You do not put yourself in danger."
Tony yelps.
"You do not treat your teammates with anything but respect."
"I know, I'm sorry, I won't!
"And you do not, ever, try to purposefully sabotage relationships with people who love you and care for you. Do you understand me?"
Tony sobs, giving up in his fight against the tears, allowing them to spill over his face, allowing himself to go boneless under Coulson's strong hand. He tries to answer because Coulson probably expects it, but all he can manage is a desperate nod.
Coulson finishes up with a series of hard smacks to his thighs and then it is over.
Tony sobs into the sudden stillness of the conference room. Sobs and sobs, trying in vain to bring himself back under control, and failing miserably.
Then a hand touches his shoulder again, drawing him up and into a warm embrace. Tony buries his face into Coulson's neck, grabbing what he can of the man's soft cotton shirt and lets himself cry.
His face is still a bit splotchy and his gait a little uncomfortable, when he slips into the back entrance of the Avengers Tower and gets on the elevator. But he's calm, and a lot more peaceful than he has been probably since the Battle of New York.
"Are you alright, sir?" Jarvis asks.
"Top condition, thanks, J. Where's everybody?"
"They are on the common floor, waiting for you, sir."
Tony groans, suddenly feeling a little less calm. Yeah, he'd told Coulson that he'd apologise to the team and he actually wanted to. But he suddenly isn't sure if he'll be able to, when it comes down to it.
There is no point in putting it off, though. He has to face them at some point.
When the doors open, he smells pizza. The mixture of dough, tomato, garlic and cheese makes his stomach turn hungrily. He hasn't eaten anything since probably yesterday morning. The team is gathered in front of the fire. Bruce, who smiles at him quietly the moment he meets his eyes. Thor, leaning against the mantelpiece, still in his Asgardian tunic he'd worn to Peru, a line of what is clearly worry furrowing his brow. Natasha and Clint, on the couch in an impossible tangle of limbs that he knows means one of them is either sick or freaking out. Steve, appearing from the kitchen in an apron covered with flour and doing his bit at making Tony feel like a dog with the sheer amount of worrying visible on his face.
Nobody says anything for a while.
"Hey," Tony says then. "Is that pizza I smell?"
"Uh-huh," Steve says. "It's almost done."
There is silence again, as Tony looks at them, and they look at Tony.
"I...uh," Tony clears his throat. "I want to apologise, to all of you. I fucked up, I put all of us in danger, and I acted like an idiot. Your plan was good, Cap, and you aren't actually a dickhead. Not entirely, at least. And, I'm sorry I worried you guys and shut you out. That's...that's on me, and I fucked up and it won't happen again."
Relief spreads across their faces and Tony can feel the tension in the room dropping almost palpably.
"That's alright, Tony," Steve says, giving him a grin. "Maybe I am a bit of a dickhead, but at least I'm a dickhead that's just happy that you're still alive and safe."
"I second that," Thor says. "You are our great friend, Man of Iron, and we would grieve greatly if you were to fall. Did Coulson convince you of your errors?"
"I certainly didn't do it on my own," Tony says, his heart warm.
Thank you very much for reading!
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Next up is Steve!
Tremulous xx