"We kicked ass today," Barton said, raising his glass, "and for that, friends, I believe we deserve this pizza. And maybe some garlic bread too."
"Ah crap, we forgot the garlic bread," Lang muttered and Tony didn't dare look at Piper. He didn't think he could take seeing whatever sappy expression she'd shoot Lang. He was already surprised that she hadn't brought the Osborn kid along.
"If we had some garlic bread," Barton continued, in the same grand tone, "we would totally deserve it. Amen."
"Amen," came a chorus of voices and so they began to dig in.
It was an odd group today. Wanda and Vision were upstate at the new compound, Natasha was off doing God only knew, Thor had flown off, either to see his girlfriend or to check out his home planet, and Steve was off on a solo mission that he refused to talk about. That left himself, Bruce, Rhodey, Barton, Lang and Cap's friend Sam – and Piper, of course, but seeing as he refused to let her get in any situation where she might hurt herself, she hadn't really been part of today. She was only here because the others had wondered where the hell she was.
But Katniss was right; they had kicked ass today. More guys carrying those "weapons of mass-destruction" that Piper had first put him on to. Definitely Chitauri based, which bothered him enough without having to think about the wormhole. He promised himself he'd look further into it tomorrow.
But a fight was a fight. That was why they were sitting in Stark Tower, celebrating (or at least, trying to. He probably shouldn't have had the last beer or two).
He heard his name mentioned and forced himself to smile. So far, no one had asked if anything was wrong, and he'd kept all the shitty comments and snide looks in check. He'd been downright pleasant if nothing else; even Rhodey hadn't noticed anything was up.
Well, maybe Bruce was watching him a little curiously. But Bruce worried about everything; he was probably just being overcautious because he thought Tony still had feelings for Piper.
But no, nooo way. He was over her. He absolutely did not have any feelings left for her whatsoever.
He glanced at her and saw her eyes dart away from him. His heart leapt wildly in his chest and he looked away, utterly miserable.
Oh yeah. Didn't feel a thing.
"Piper," Lang said from the floor, cocking an eyebrow, "did you take the last slice of pepperoni?"
"Huh? Oh," Piper said, looking a little dazed, not to mention impossibly cute. Tony looked at the floor. "I did, yeah."
Lang made some wisecrack statement that earned a lot of laughs, but Tony didn't hear it. He didn't want to be here, now, with them.
"I'll be right back," he heard himself say.
"Everything okay?" Rhodey asked.
"Yeah," Tony said easily, "I think I just – there's this thing… I have to double check –"
"Oh, sure, I'm glad you said it in a way that made sense to everyone," Rhodey said, taking a sip of his beer. Tony glanced at Piper again, but this time she didn't look away; she smiled hopefully at him.
"All right, see you guys," Tony said, turning away and walking out despite the numerous protests he heard.
This was what he needed: loud rock and roll and total solitude, just working on his suits by himself. This was great. This was totally great. How could anyone pass up this opportunity?
There was a knock on the glass, and Tony looked up from the gauntlet he was working on, stomach writhing in excitement when he saw Piper was standing behind the glass door, smiling slightly. "Can I come in?" she called.
For a second, he thought about telling her to go away. What was the point, teasing himself with the idea that something was going to happen? Then he sighed. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., open up and turn the Angus Young off."
"Hey," Piper said as the glass slid back and she walked into the lab. "Bruce told me you might be here."
"Well, here I am," Tony said shortly, setting his screwdriver down on the workbench.
"Are you okay?" Piper asked, leaning back against the door. She didn't seem to want to get very close.
"Fine," Tony shrugged. "Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"
"No," Piper shrugged back, though she still looked a little concerned. "No reason." Then she frowned, biting her lip as if she was thinking deeply about something. He wanted to bite her lip too. "It was just –"
"Just what?" Tony said, feeling a little irritated now.
"You ran off the other night," Piper prodded.
God, he could hardly stand thinking about it. He couldn't get her laugh out of his head.
"I…?" Change the subject, change the subject. "Did I run?"
Her lips curled into a tiny smile. Stop looking at her lips. "Maybe you didn't run. It seemed like a pretty hasty getaway, though."
"Hm."
Maybe, if he just ignored her and went back to working, she would leave. Maybe he should just ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. to turn the music back on. He picked up his screwdriver, was just about to ask if the A.I. if she could, kindly, fucking blare it, when Piper trotted over to his workbench and hoisted herself onto the edge.
He closed his eyes. He found it almost offensive how nervous she made him feel, like he was fourteen again. Too eager. Too excitable.
"Is this for the Mark Forty-Eight?" she asked excitedly.
"Forty-Nine," he corrected – even though, yes, he was totally lying and yes, this was for the Forty-Eight.
Piper began to chatter on about the technology – something he would have probably been interested in if he hadn't been struggling with the idea of simply walking around to her side of the bench and kissing her until her knees went weak. He was sure he could do it; he knew he was a good kisser. He was almost certain that he could do it. Kind of certain. Fuuuuck.
He couldn't do that. He was too old for her, and one hundred percent too unstable. The other night had been a test run, and sure, it might have started out okay, but once Harry Osborn had shown up –
"You've got something on your face," Piper said, licking her thumb and reaching out to him.
"Something" was a small cut on his forehead. He'd been thrown across the street, crashing into a rather pricey Chinese restaurant. Really, it didn't hurt at all, but she was brushing his hair back from his brow, looking concerned. He forced himself not to lean into her touch.
"It's nothing," Tony said, although he would have loved it if she'd fussed over him for at least another fifteen minutes.
She frowned. "You sure? It doesn't hurt?"
Yes, he thought. It hurts so bad. You should kiss it better.
Piper seemed to take his silence for a no, and seamlessly launched back into her one-sided discussion.
Maybe he could ask her to stay late again tonight. For reasons. He could think of one. He could think of a hundred. Then he thought of Harry Osborn, and he grimaced.
"– even that Chitauri stuff though, like, whoever is messing around with that, you still have to give them credit –"
"What?" Tony interrupted, cocking his head.
Piper blinked at him. "Hm?"
"Run that last sentence by me again?" She couldn't have said it.
"I…" she trailed off. She swallowed, looking at the floor. "Um. I don't really remember –"
Tony dropped the screwdriver. "No. You said Chitauri."
She slipped off the workbench. "I…" she shrugged, breezily. "Yeah. That's… what Bruce said. Remodeled Chitauri weaponry."
He scrubbed a hand across his face, frowning. "And you're talking to Bruce about it, why?"
"I wanted to see what he thought about it." She frowned back. "I'm allowed to ask about it, aren't I?"
He crossed his arms. "But you sent all the munitions you found to me, right?"
"Yeah," Piper said, nodding eagerly. She cleared her throat. "The – on that day, yeah I –"
He drew in a shaky breath before he cut across her. "I'm sorry, on that day?" That day when I thought I made it pretty clear you shouldn't do that again? "You…?"
Piper scrunched up her nose, still looking at the floor.
Tony just stared at her, his heart pounding. "I'm just gonna refresh my memory here. Did I or did I not say 'don't fight guys with lots of alien guns'?"
"You did not," Piper said dryly, finally looking up. Her eyes, darker than molasses, were narrowed to slits. "That would've been distinctly memorable."
"Well, I think that was clearly the underlying message of whatever it was I actually said," Tony said heatedly.
Piper broke in. "But I –"
"So after I said this," he continued, raising his voice over hers, "you did it again? And – you kept some of this totally safe intergalactic arsenal, not only putting yourself but plenty of other people, including your aunt, at risk –"
"I'm not an idiot," Piper said quietly.
He threw his hands up. "So it's been properly contained, right? You're not keeping it in a gym bag under your bed?"
Her cheeks flamed scarlet despite her defiant look.
Jesus fucking Christ! His heart was going too fast, and he thanked whatever God was up there that she was still alive –
"If I ask you to do something," he said, and his voice was very low and very even because he was not going to have an anxiety attack, "you need to do it. Otherwise, you're useless to me."
That had come out far harsher than he'd intended it.
He saw the hurt register in her face for an instant and his insides twisted guiltily. Shit, shit, double shit –
"That… I mean, I didn't…" He just had to tell her. He just had to outright say it. "Piper, I have to say some –"
"Mister Stark," she said levelly, and her face was stone, devoid of expression, "if you don't want me to be here, all you have to do is say so."
He hesitated. Then he went for the safest option. "I don't want you to be here," he rattled off.
She nodded. "Okay then. Thank you for your time. I'm sorry it –" And then she shrugged and she turned away and before he knew it, she was gone.
She had to get her bag; she'd left it in up with the rest of the goddamn party. She just had to keep herself from crying until after she'd grabbed her bag and was in the elevator. Then it was fine.
I don't even care what he thinks.
Her bag – she'd left it near the elevator. Maybe she could just duck in, shout her goodbyes, and then run out before they could say anything. Maybe if they really missed her, they'd hang out with her somewhere else. It wasn't like she even fought with them, really. She wasn't an Avenger.
The elevator doors opened and she nearly walked into Bruce.
"Whoa!" Piper exclaimed.
"Jesus!" Bruce said in surprise, laughing a little shakily. "Sorry, Piper." Then he caught a look at her face – or maybe at how she was trying to hide it, looking down and letting her hair fall across it. "Everything okay?"
Piper ducked past him, scooping up her backpack. "Yeah, I – where's everyone else?"
"Gone out for victory garlic bread. And booze." Bruce crossed his arms. "I was just going down to check on Tony."
"Oh, he's fine," Piper said, unable to keep a little bitterness out of her voice.
Bruce frowned. "What did he say to you?"
"He didn't say anything," Piper lied easily. "I just wanted to see if he was okay. He is." She shrugged at Bruce. "Look, I'd love to stick around, but – my Aunt May, she just called, and –" He wouldn't know her phone was still in her backpack, would he? Had it rung while she was away?
Bruce nodded amiably, standing in the elevator doors to keep them open. "Piper," he said and hesitated, as though carefully choosing his words. "Tony can be an idiot, but mostly he's just trying to do what he thinks is right."
Piper smiled brightly. "Yeah, I know," she said agreeably, although she couldn't agree less. "It's so fine, Bruce, I don't know what you're worried about. Nothing happened." Maybe her face had gone all blotchy or her corneas had gone red – something that only seemed to happen when she was out in public, never when she was home alone crying. Fate was cruel.
Bruce nodded, smiling back. She wondered if her smile looked as fake as his. "Yeah, no problem. Here, you take this one down and I'll –"
"Oh, we can catch it together," Piper said hastily, not wanting to be rude.
"No, it's fine, I forgot something – take it."
It was nice of Bruce to do that, Piper thought dully as she smiled at him, slipping into the elevator. Chivalrous. Both words Tony Stark clearly did not know.
"You're home early," Aunt May said, surprised. "Is everything okay with Gwen?"
"Yeah, Aunt May," Piper said as brightly as she could, trying to pretend she hadn't been crying for most of the way home. She locked the front door, hearing it click. "Everything was fine, Gwen just had to finish something for Doctor Connors and I think it was really important so I –"
She looked up to see that May was already off the couch, clearly not fooled. She burst into fresh tears.
"Oh, sweetie," her aunt said, wrapping her arms around Piper. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's –" Piper swiped her sweatshirt sleeve across her nose. "I – I just – I don't know," she said miserably, sure her aunt would just roll her eyes at her childish behaviour.
But Aunt May just nodded. "Go get changed into your pyjamas, I'll make us tea and we can watch whatever you want. Go on, go," Aunt May practically scooted her towards her bedroom. "We also have Häagen-Dazs – except I actually bought it this time," Aunt May raised her voice as Piper walked into her bedroom, feeling almost numbed as she shut the door, letting her backpack fall to the floor.
This was it. She wasn't an Avenger. She hadn't proved herself as anything, even after trying so hard and –
"Sex and the City or Gilmore Girls?" her aunt called out.
Piper rolled her eyes, kicking her backpack so that it sailed across the room and smacked into the wall. She cursed; her phone was in there.
"Everything okay?"
"Yup!"
Piper pulled her phone out: no cracks. The new Stark phone really was durable. Staring at her phone, she was gripped by a sudden urge to smash it against the floor until it did break.
"Piper?" Aunt May tried.
Piper stared hard at the phone then looked to the old cloth backpack tucked innocently under her double bed. Despite the constant worry Aunt May might find it, Piper's curiosity had won over her caution, and she'd tinkered with it a few times to figure out how it worked. The backpack was partially obscured by an old but faithful tub of Lego, an empty duffel bag and some old science fair projects.
"Piper? What are we watching?"
Who said she was out of the game? All she had to do was something amazing – something spectacular – and Tony Stark couldn't possibly judge her. She would be an Avenger. He'd see.
"Piper?"
"Coming, Aunt May," Piper replied loudly, quickly changing into her comfiest pyjamas and opening her bedroom door.
When Tony woke up the next morning, his head felt like his skull had become too sizes too small for his brain.
"Oh my God," he groaned. "What the hell happened?"
"Nothing really," Bruce said chirpily, sitting by the side of his bed, reading the paper. Who the hell even reads the paper anymore? Tony thought irritably, trying to ignore that there was a huge photo of Spider-Woman on the front. "Let's see," Bruce continued. "You drank a lot, you had a fight with Piper and made her cry, pretty sure you drank even more after that, you broke a table, watched a lot of baby seal videos and then you threw up." Bruce paused, as though thinking. "Oh, and you tried to drunk-call Piper but you called Pepper instead, which was fun."
Tony stared at Bruce in rising horror. "Please tell me you made some of those up."
Bruce shook his head, still staring at the paper. His eyes weren't moving, though. He wasn't reading it. It was all for show.
Tony groaned again, letting his head fall back against the pillow. Oh, he felt like shit. "When did I realize that it was Pepper, not Piper, that I was talking to?"
"I don't think you did," Bruce beamed.
"Good to know you had my back," Tony grunted.
"Tony, please tell me when anyone has been able to stop you, ever," Bruce said wryly. "You should call her."
"I think the best thing to do is let Pepper cool off, because, bless her, but that woman can hold a grudge for –"
"Piper," Bruce said, finally looking at him with a very unsympathetic look plastered on his face. "You should call Piper."
Tony shook his head. "Oh, that is definitely beyond repair," he said offhandedly. But his throat burned like he'd downed six shots. All he could see was her face, and how sad she'd looked, and –
"Did I really make her cry?"
Bruce hesitated, suddenly looking a lot more sympathetic.
His stomach twisted and fuck –
"I have to go throw up," Tony announced, rolling out of bed and heading to the bathroom.
He turned the tap, and water spilled out of the faucet. He washed his mouth out then cupped his palms together, splashing his face a few times.
Useless. That's what you called her.
After she'd left, he remembered feeling like part of his chest had been cleaved out. Guilt had gnawed at the pit of his stomach with its sharp little teeth, like it was doing now. He could remember that he'd thrown something – A glass? A blowtorch? Something – and then Bruce had tried to talk to him but drinking had seemed like the only reasonable option. Everything from there was much fuzzier.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y.," he said woozily. "Order some Chinese. And fried chicken. Like really greasy fried chicken."
His stomach lurched again and he spat bile into the sink as the A.I. agreed to do as he said. He needed grease and a hell of a lot of Gatorade.
Or more beer, said a sly voice in his head but he swiftly struck that one down.
He tried to remember if he'd seen Piper crying or not and his stomach rolled unpleasantly again. This time though, it had nothing to do with the hangover.