Sorry for the delay on these chapter. Lots of family stuff going on these last few weeks. And chapter 4 wasn't easy. It's been on my mind for a long time, and especially the last few weeks, and it's felt a little intimidating. There's a lot going on here, and I've taken some liberties with how it might have happened. But that what's fanfiction is for. I always liked the Marvel movies, but Civil War almost made me stop watching. I absolutely hated Tony and Steve being at odds, and fighting, and hurting each other. So this is me helping them start to put things back together. Maybe not like they were before, but pulling at those frayed threads of friendship and trying to pull a few things back together makes me really happy.

Also, as some inspiration for this chapter, I re-read Chapter 4 of mendeia's "From My Weakness I Drew Strength. If you haven't read her "The Meaning of Inevitable" series, you're really missing out. She's done some amazing things with re-writing the MCU!

junker5 and kingdomfaraway read through these, but I added almost a thousand words since then, and changed some things since then, so...yeah. If I ask them to look again, and then I decide to change a bunch of stuff again, you might not get these chapter for a while...


Chapter 3


"What was the plan, there, Pete?" Tony asked in fond exasperation as soon as they were in his private suite. "You were just gonna tackle Captain America because he was being annoying?" Tony asked, trying hard to keep his voice neutral. He really did want to know what was going on in the kid's head.

"I don't know. I just couldn't get that footage from Siberia out of my head, and if he hurt you like that once, who's to say he wouldn't do it again? I'm pretty sure I could take him."

Tony huffed out a laugh. "Pure strength and abilities? Yeah, I don't disagree. But Rogers has been up against fifty times the enemies you have, plus he trains regularly with Natasha. Don't underestimate all that experience plus super strength. But it's sure not going to happen in the Compound. Rogers is an idiot sometimes, but no one's going to get in a physical fight here," Tony reassured. He threw his suit jacket on a chair and loosened his tie, removing it and tossing it over a lamp.

Peter looked at the tie pointedly and rolled his eyes, flopping down on the couch with a soft exhale.

"We're all doing our best to get along and make this work. And you heard him. Apparently miracles haven't ceased, because the good Captain actually acknowledged that not everything requires his judgment and defense," Tony said dryly. It really was food for thought, though. He never thought he'd see the day.

"Plus, Barnes is here, too, and safe, and probably not going to murder anyone in their sleep, thanks to the Wakandans anti-brainwashing-magic or whatever. So Cap should be able to hold it together for almost anything else," Tony assured the scowling teenager.

"Still, I'd rather not take any chances."

Tony sighed, and settled on the other end of the couch, turned sideways so he could look at Peter. "Cap and I have fought plenty over the years, and we usually disagree on stuff. Doesn't mean I'm in any danger, or anyone else here. Do I trust him to always be truthful with me? Not by a long shot. Do I trust him to do what he thinks is the right thing to do? Yeah, I actually do. He's not the enemy here, Pete," Tony said earnestly. "So how about you back off until someone actually goes after me, and then I give you permission to go all baby-bear on them."

"Baby bear?" Peter asked flatly, both confused and a little offended.

"Yeah, you know, people say that mothers can get all mama-bear-like when defending their kids, or their cubs? But in this case, you're the cub," Tony said with a self-satisfied smirk. "The crazy-overpowered cub, but still the baby."

Peter huffed in annoyance, but after a moment the corners of his mouth twitched up. "Does that make you the mama bear?"

Ignoring his spider sense, Peter just let the throw pillow hit him in the head. He was too busy laughing at the look on Tony's face to care.


Peter was unusually quiet at dinner. Thor and Loki hadn't come back from New Asgard yet, and Vision had only recently returned, and had gone in to talk to Wanda. So Tony, Peter, Bruce, Natasha, Rogers, Barnes, and Wilson sat down to dinner. Actually, they were all kind of being quiet. With such a mixed group and such a lot of history, it was no surprise that everyone was unsure about non-controversial conversation topics. Tony hadn't attended a dinner with any Avengers present that was this quiet since shawarma after the Battle of New York. After ten minutes of nothing more than "Please pass the salt," Tony had had enough.

"So, anyone seen the latest episode of—" Crap. He'd meant to look up what was popular right now. Quickly he turned to Peter, and asked quietly, "that show we watched this week, was that current?"

Peter's mouth quirked up into a delighted smile. "Nope. It's from like two years ago, old-timer."

Tony spared him a quick glare. Little punk. "Ugh. Never mind, then." His eyes darted around the table. "Barnes! Tell us about your favorite Wakandan delicacy." Tony said it casually, but everyone at the table was obviously dialed in, waiting for the super soldier's reaction.

The man in question looked surprised, and glanced at Rogers for support. Steve just raised his eyebrows, waiting for the answer as well.

When he didn't speak up, Wilson said, "Oh, it's Imbrassia Belina, right Buck?"

Barnes glared at Sam across the table. "You shut your mouth. That stuff is nasty." Then he looked back at Tony briefly. "Uh, kachumbari, I guess," he said more quietly, shuffling his fork through the large helping of chicken and vegetables on his plate.

"And what's that, exactly? It doesn't sound familiar."

"It's kind of like salsa, but better?" Barnes said, sounding a little more sure of himself. "It's good how they serve it, but I really like it with tortilla chips, too."

"Sounds great. You guys should definitely organize some of your favorite dishes from there for a team dinner one of these times soon," Tony said genially, sitting back in his chair a little to keep his body language open. He was trying here. Super hard. They needed this. If he could get this team actually working together, it would help him deal with some of the anxiety from the last few years. The worries that had overshadowed his dreams and his days ever since he'd gone through the wormhole and realized how tiny and out of their depth Earth actually was.

Several of the "rogues" nodded or murmured in agreement.

"That would be fun," Natasha mused. It would be interesting to see if we could find the ingredients we need here."

"If you go into the city, I'm sure you can," Bruce said. "I mean, it's New York. Team dinners would be fun, though."

"So, speaking of the team, is Spider-man part of the team then?" Steve asked Tony. He seemed more curious than challenging. "How much training has he had?" Then he smiled at Peter. "I've followed some of your work. I'm a fan."

"He's definitely not on the team yet; he's still in high school," Tony said gruffly, feeling a little put out by the question. Did Steve know how hard he'd tried to keep Peter out of the big leagues so far? Tony sighed. Of course he didn't.

Peter frowned at him, but then looked back at Steve with a measuring expression.

"I've had some," he said a little defensively, answering for himself. "Mr. Stark's worked on my hand-to-hand quite a bit, but he said I could use an even better trainer," Peter said, daring to shoot a glance at Natasha, who smiled warmly at him.

"I'm sure any of us would be happy to train with you, Peter," she said, looking intrigued. Yeah, Tony was sure she couldn't wait to see the kid in action up close.

"He should probably train with us," Tony admitted. "If something really big went down, we might need him, and he needs to be able to work in a team. But he's supposed to stick to the small-time stuff for now," Tony said firmly. "He's still got his senior year left, and then there's college, and—"

"Not that again," Peter complained, sounding prickly. "Once I'm 18 I should be able to—"

"Yeah, we've talked about that some, but there's a big 'if' in there, Spiderling," Tony said, sighing and leaning his elbows on the table so he could rub at his forehead. "It will depend on how you do in some real training exercises, and on some medium-sized missions, and we'll have to see what's going on college-wise. I mean, if you're at MIT, you migh—"

"Well, I haven't decided yet, have I?" Peter challenged, eyebrows pulled together in annoyance.

"Pete."

Just then, Tony heard Wilson's muffled curse on the other side of Peter as his steak knife (which he'd been using to cut his chicken) slipped against the tempered glass of his plate and flew sideways. Peter reacted immediately, catching it before it could go farther than him. Time seemed to pause for a second as everyone stared at Peter's superhuman-reflex catch. Then a small drop of red fell with a muted plop on the edge of Peter's white plate.

The moment thawed quickly, with several Avengers adding movement and noise at the sight of blood. The dang kid had caught it by the blade instead of the handle.

Rogers had moved from Wilson's other side quite abruptly and was reaching for Peter's hand. Probably just to check the damage, but that raised Tony's hackles immediately. His kid was bleeding, and there were very few people at the table that he felt comfortable reaching out for him like that. He was surprised (but not) to discover that Rogers was at the bottom of that list. Right above Barnes.

"Back off, Cap," he said icily, blocking Steve's motion with his own hand. Steve didn't press it, but took a step back.

"Peter Benjamin Parker!" Tony ground out in frustration as he grabbed a clean cloth napkin from the center of the table (some of the others had teased him in the past about his preference for those, but who was laughing now? That didn't make sense. Focus. Peter. Blood. Fix it.) He grabbed onto Peter's wrist with his other hand and shook the boy's arm gently, prompting him to drop the knife. It clattered to the table, a few more drops of blood falling with it. Couldn't they just have a nice, normal dinner?

"How exactly is catching it by the blade and letting it cut you better than just letting it fly by? It's not like it had that much momentum," Tony grumbled, his frustration audible even to him.

"I didn't… I didn't think, I just acted," Peter said, breathing rapidly.

"And that's the problem," Tony pressed. "You're always acting without thinking, and sometimes that means you get hurt. Quite unnecessarily."

"You know part of it is just my senses. It's not like I decide to react that way," Peter said, his eyebrows gathered together in further annoyance and frustration. "It just happens!"

Tony sighed. This kid was going to be the death of him. Keeping his touch gentle, he quickly inspected the wound. It was shallow, and hadn't hit anything important. He knew from experience that it would probably close up within an hour or two, but it was actively bleeding. Just as well. The knife hadn't exactly been sterile.

"Hold the cloth to it lightly for a minute and let the bleeding clean it out a little, then we'll go wash and bandage it," Tony said, resigned. It said something that he was getting used to Peter hurting himself in, honestly, dumb ways far too often.

"It's gonna be fine before bedtime; you know that," the teenager complained quietly.

Tony nodded. He did know that. It didn't mean it made it any easier to see his kid's blood constantly outside his body.

"Just try to think, and be a little more careful?" Tony pleaded. "Take that extra millisecond to grab it by the handle next time? Remember, I have a heart condition," he mostly teased.

Peter glared at the table for a moment, but then raised his eyes to Tony's and sighed, some of the fight leaving him. He held the napkin lightly, as instructed, and let the blood seep for a moment. He winced. Tony was sure it stung now that Peter took a moment to pay attention to it.

He reached over and squeezed his kid's shoulder gently. "We'll get there, okay? Forgive me for being a little overprotective, as usual. About you stepping up after graduation, and about stuff like this. I'll keep working on it."

Tony tried to modulate his voice to a more neutral range, to match the neutral way (ha) he felt about the other topic. "And we'll talk about MIT later."

Peter breathed out slowly and nodded. Tony swiped an affectionate hand over his hair, smoothing it rather than ruffling it. He'd found the boy was less likely to protest that, especially when they were around other people where he might worry about it being messed up.

Oh, people. At the same moment, they both seemed to remember they were hardly alone, just because it was quiet and still around them. They both looked up, and surprised eyes quickly looked elsewhere. Only Bruce still met his gaze, and his friend's amused concern was palpable. He already made it clear how entertained he was by Tony's new "alter ego" as Peter's dad-like-figure. Rogers and Wilson both had incredulous looks on their faces, Barnes and Natasha wore almost matching enigmatic expressions.

"No stitches?" Bruce asked, still looking worried.

"Nah, it's shallow. His crazy-fast healing will take care of it."

"So, what kind of group training schedule are we looking at?" Rogers asked lightly, just a little strangled-sounding, as he returned to his seat. "I know everyone's busy. Well, except those of us who are living here," he added self-deprecatingly. "Obviously we'll train most days. But has anyone talked about getting more of us together on a weekly or monthly basis?" His eyes were still considering Tony and Peter in turn, as if he was processing what he'd just seen.

Tony ignored all of Steve's unanswered questions. He and Rhodey and Bruce actually had talked about that, and he'd even talked to Barton and Lang briefly.

"Anyone who's around and available on weekends, it would be nice if we could do some team-building or training exercises. We were looking at once a month for the first six months to try to get everyone here at the same time. On my dime, of course," he added dryly, "so we can build camaraderie and all that jazz.

"That sounds do-able. Will you be there for some of the trainings?" Steve asked carefully.

"Well, since I'm kind of in charge of you hooligans, at least in name, I'll be here as many weekends as I can for a while."

Steve looked a little surprised at that, but nodded thoughtfully. "And Peter?" he said curiously, glancing at the teenager next to Tony.

"Peter stays pretty busy once school starts," Tony said, "but he'll probably be around when I am for the next month or so, at least," he admitted grudgingly.

Peter had opened his mouth to say something, but as Tony finished he just nodded, looking a little self-satisfied, and went back to finishing his food. It was strange to not having him talk his ear off.

Suddenly, Tony had had enough people for one night. It took a lot more energy to interact in this mixed group, and he'd gotten kind of used to having their safer, more predictable little gatherings. Usually Peter or Pepper, or both, and sometimes Happy or May. Rhodey or Bruce were always welcome additions.

Finding himself eager to get back to their private quarters, he nudged Peter with his leg. "You full yet, kiddo? I'm about ready to turn in. Let's go clean up that hand."

Peter glanced at his watch and narrowed his eyes slightly, but must have seen something in Tony's face, and he agreed quietly.

"Good night, all. Maybe we can squeeze in a little of that training tomorrow before Peter and I head back?" he asked, looking mostly at Natasha, who nodded.

He headed out of the room and down the hallway towards his private suite, Peter at his heels.

"Hey, you okay?" Peter was looking at him with concern when Tony glanced over.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm not the one bleeding, by the way."

Peter narrowed his eyes. "It's not bleeding anymore," he said, still training a searching gaze on Tony.

"I… It's been a long day, but really, I'm okay," Tony said more sincerely, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder as they walked.

Peter glanced back towards the common area, and as Tony registered his attention switch, he heard hurried steps behind them.

"Tony, a minute?"

Tony considered ignoring Steve and took a few more steps, pulling Peter along with him.

"Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all."

Tony stopped.

"King M'Baka, after the Lagos incident, right before the Accords first happened."

"I know who said it," Tony said quietly. He was just surprised that Steve did.

"He was right."

Tony turned around fully and looked at Steve. His face was sincere, and lacked the self-righteous assurance that Tony was used to seeing on the super soldier's face. Right. He'd been wanting to talk one-on-one since Tony got there, and had asked about it again before dinner. There was really no avoiding it, so he might as well get it over with. Even if he wasn't quite sure if he was ready yet.

"Okay, let's talk. Kid, give us a few minutes."

"I can wait, while you take care of his hand!" Steve said, concerned. "I just… maybe afterwards?"

"Now's fine."

Peter's eyes flared, obviously alarmed at leaving Tony alone with Rogers. "But, Tony, I—"

"Peter. Nothing's gonna happen. And this is a private conversation."

Peter didn't move, and Tony finally looked at him. His kid was glaring at him, but his eyes were full of worry. He was obviously torn between obeying and protecting.

"Please?" Tony asked, giving him a little reassuring smile. "I promise we'll be no more than 15 minutes. Go tell Bruce about it, and ask if he'll help you wash and wrap up your hand. If he's worried about me, you can both come rescue me together," he teased.

"I can do it myself," Peter grumbled.

"Humor me. Bruce loves to pretend he's that kind of doctor," Tony assured his kid, still pushing the tone of relaxed amusement, trying to put Peter at ease.

"Fine. Fifteen minutes."

Tony rolled his eyes slightly, keeping their parting light. "Thanks so much for your permission, bud. I won't miss curfew."

Peter scoffed at him and went back the direction they'd come from, staring Steve down as he went. He was obviously going to go to complain to Bruce, just as Tony had suggested.

Tony looked back at Steve and gestured behind him with his chin. "There's a conference room over here we can use. It even has soundproofing, so spider-babies can't listen in."

"I heard that!" came down the hallway, and a smile pulled at the corner of Tony's mouth.

"Let's get this over with."

.

.

.

.

.


Chapter 4


Steve blew out a steadying breath and smoothed his beard with unsure fingers as he followed Tony into the small conference room. He was surprised that Tony had agreed to talk to him finally, though he felt bad that he'd sent Peter away to have someone else deal with his hand.

Wow, so much to unpack there. Seeing how protective Peter had been of the older man, and then finding out Tony's young "intern" was actually a super-powered vigilante was one thing, but seeing how close the two were, then and at dinner, was almost more surprising. Steve had no idea Tony could even get that attached to a kid, much less that he'd act so parental towards one. When had that started? Germany? Probably not before. "Fatherly" is not a term he'd ever have connected with Tony before, but he couldn't really see this Tony allowing Peter to face off against the rest of the Avengers, no matter how overpowered he was. Steve's rapid-fire musings were interrupted when Tony turned and wedged himself against the conference room table, and gestured to a chair. His former teammate unconsciously pulled at his left wrist. Steve mentally raised an eyebrow. So Tony was nervous, too.

"You wanted me; you've got me. What's on your mind, Captain Anxious?"

Steve preferred to stand.

"I just wanted a chance to apologize."

"Yeah?" Tony's eyes were guarded, and he tucked his chin a little while crossing his arms. Steve had seen him in this defensive posture before. He felt bad for the times he was the one who inspired it. He should have—well, his ma would have said that "helpful thoughts should be spoken."

"Tony, I should have been a better teammate. A better friend," Steve blurted out. "I should have told you about your parents when I found out. I was afraid of your reaction, and I wanted more information first, and I was so"—Steve turned and started pacing, running both hands through his hair in agitation—"so blindsided by Bucky still being alive then, and wanting to find him, and see if he was safe, and figure out what happened to him, that I messed up." He turned to face Tony again. "I messed up big time. And the whole Accords thing, and Peggy's funeral was all happening at once. I… There's no excuse for it, Tony, but I had too much in my head. Too many emotions, and feelings, and—" He sighed, finally sinking into the offered chair.

Tony was watching and listening, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Steve couldn't help but continue, more quietly. "Sam got me connected with a therapist over the last year. A buddy of his who was willing to do it remotely. He helped me realize that losing someone from my past who was so important—Peggy—and then finding Bucky was alive, along with all of the Sokovia, and Lagos, and the Accords stuff, it just… unbalanced me. I thought I was stronger than that, but it was too much; it was all spiraling beyond what I could really handle. I thought I was making the only decisions I could, but there were better ways to approach things."

Steve looked up, meeting Tony's serious eyes.

"I should have asked for help, especially from you. I know you would have tried. Even if you needed time first, to process the Winter Soldier's role in your parents' death. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't trust you, and I understand if you can't ever forgive how we left you, hurt, after everything exploded in Siberia. I haven't been able to forgive myself."

Tony was silent. He was looking down at his shoes, his arms still crossed. His head was more relaxed though, and some of the tension had left his shoulders. Steve searched the part of his face he could see, and it seemed contemplative. He tried not to hold his breath as he waited for his former-friend's response. He made himself just give Tony a minute to process instead of jumping in with anything else.

"I—all of that makes sense, Steve."

Steve let out all that anticipatory air just hearing Tony use his name. Even when things were good between them, he'd usually opted for (sometimes) affectionate nicknames rather than Steve's actual name.

"I'm sorry that you were struggling so much, and that you didn't feel like you could tell me. Couldn't tell us. We can't be a team, and we can't follow you as a leader if we can't trust you to let us know when you need support."

"That's just it," Steve couldn't help but interrupt (even though he'd told himself he wouldn't). "Who decided I was the leader of the Avengers? Who decided that a kid from Brooklyn with a chip on his shoulder, who let himself be experimented on to serve his country"—he made air quotes at that phrase—"from the 1940's should be in charge of the earth's most powerful people?"

Tony opened his mouth, but for once he wasn't quick enough, and Steve barreled on, standing up again to pace.

"I spent five months as a figurehead, as a caricature, almost, for the war efforts, and then spent a measly 13 months in combat, then was frozen for decades. I wasn't even really 25 when I thawed out, and was still completely naïve in some ways. In most of the ways that mattered, when we're talking about a group of super-humans in a completely different political climate." Steve turned to Tony tiredly and sighed. "Why was I in charge? Who thought I could handle all that, without screwing it up?"

Tony scoffed lightly, but his gaze held more empathy than anger. "Cap, have you seen yourself? You take charge. Thirteen months is more than any of the rest of us had, except Thor, of course. But he knows how to fight, more than he does how to lead a small task force, and he's not around much. You led the Howling Commandos on eleven official missions, and on a few unofficial ones, as well?" His eyebrows were raised, a bit of a question in that last part.

Steve nodded. There had been a few of those.

Tony continued. "You have a head for strategy, you think on your feet, and you know how to use your resources. Even when some of them don't listen to you half the time," he said with a self-disparaging smile. "You were the best man for the job, and we worked well together. And every single one of us has messed up, a lot. I just got most of my greatest hits out of the way while you were playing Sleeping Beauty."

"Maybe so," Steve admitted quietly, his mouth quirking at Tony's reminder of all the dumb things he'd done. His were visible, sure, butthey'd rarely affected more than a few people. Steve leaned back heavily against the conference room wall.

"But the decisions I made were still wrong, and people got hurt because of them. The team was torn apart because I didn't know how to deal with all the pressures, and thought I must be right, and that sticking to my principles was the only way to go."

"I once said I didn't trust a guy without a dark side," Tony said softly, "and you said maybe I hadn't seen it."

Steve took a deep breath, and nodded.

"Well, I've seen it now. And I know you've seen mine plenty of times. But therapy has also helped me start to realize maybe having that dark side just means I'm human. And so are you."

Steve was surprised. Tony had been to therapy? The times it had been (jokingly, and even seriously) suggested, he'd just laughed it off.

"Right?" Tony said, correctly interpreting Steve's incredulous expression. "Oh how the mighty have fallen."

"No, I—Tony, that's great. I just didn't know you'd been working through stuff too."

"Not as often as I should, but I try. I finally started after Sokovia, but it took a while to find someone I clicked with. And then it took me a while again after our whole dust up in Germany to get back to it."

"That's… that's good," Steve said, grateful that his friend wasn't dealing with the fall-out of all that on his own. He only knew bits and pieces about Tony's struggles with anxiety and PTSD, but he was glad he'd been getting some help.

"Pepper insisted, and I've recently found myself feeling more motivated to not repeat my father's mistakes," Tony said, bracing himself to pull his legs up onto the table in a criss-cross position, reminiscent of a much younger man.

Some things hadn't changed, then, Steve thought with a smile.

"So… you and the kid, huh?"

"Yeah. He's too good to screw up, just because I'm a train wreck," Tony said with a soft smile.

"He seems to have his head on straight," Steve admitted. "So you've been doing an okay job so far."

"Nah, that's all on his aunt and uncle. And because Pete's just innately good. I'm just doing my part to try not to mess that up."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit. He obviously loves you, and respects you."

Tony raised an eyebrow as if he was going to argue, but then he just sighed and nodded in agreement, then raised his eyes to look at Steve appraisingly.

"I'm not sure what we are anymore. Former friends? Enemies? Do we nod politely at each other when we pass? Watch the football on TV together in silence? Am I just the guy who pays for stuff, so you need my signature on purchase orders?"

"You hate football," Steve scoffed. Then, "Tony, no. I… I don't know what we are, either. I know trust has been broken, and I don't know if we can be where we were before. But if this is going to work, if we really are going to be a team again, I don't wanna be the one calling all the shots. It's too much for me, and I need more perspective going into lots of the Avengers-related decisions."

"But you're 'Captain America,'" Tony said with a grandiose lilt to his voice. "Everyone expects you to lead."

"That's not who I am," Steve said quietly. "I don't think I've been him since Germany. And I'm kinda done with doing stuff just because people expect it."

Tony's eyes had widened a little, and he waited for Steve to continue.

"I can be that when I have to, if it's needed. Like if we're actively fighting. I'm comfortable calling the shots there, if everyone agrees. But the rest of the time I'm just Steve, and I can't do this by myself. I don't trust myself enough to make those decisions for a team. Will you… can we work together well enough to lead together? The team needs both of us."

Tony sighed. "I'm not sure, Capsicle. I don't know if I can be that involved. I have a lot on my plate, and our, uh… history makes things a little rocky."

"Is it Bucky?" Steve asked softly. He wanted the Avengers to work out again badly, but Bucky was like family to him, and an amazing asset (now that the Wakandans had truly wiped out his trigger words) that they needed on the team. Was there any way for Tony to forgive what the Winter Soldier had—

"It's not Barnes," Tony interrupted his thoughts. "Like you said, I needed time to process and figure out where my head was, but I truly don't blame him. He was as much a victim as they were," he said, swallowing roughly, some emotion still lurking. "That doesn't mean I won't even flinch at having him around, but with some exposure, I'm sure I'll get through that, too."

"You can't forgive me, then?" Steve asked. "I understand. It makes sense, and I—"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Tony stopped him. "Turns out resentment is corrosive, and I hate it. I forgave you a long time ago, even before I knew what you were dealing with when it all went down. But that doesn't mean I can just forget, or easily trust you again. That's not something I can just turn on and off."

Steve felt something like hope. Tony forgave him, after all he'd done? "I… yeah, that's… I get that."

"We can't undo all the things that have happened. Maybe we can start again, though? I can try to do that, if you can."

"I would love that," Steve said, closing his eyes in gratitude. "But… the team?"

"On a trial basis. I'm gonna need you to do most of the hands-on stuff though. I'm already in a little over my head with SI, and the kid, and the Accords Council, and my wedding coming up. Pepper will kill me if I skip out on any of that to play heroes with you guys too often," Tony said gruffly.

"Play heroes?" Steve asked skeptically.

"You know what I mean. Logistics-stuff that you need my okay or my money for, ask me about. Any day-to-day decisions probably need to be you. Big picture decisions, we can go halfsies, and think about putting it to an actual vote if we can't agree. Everyone's going to need to be flexible, and put their pride aside a little."

Steve gave Tony an amused look. He was feeling optimistic, and could afford to enjoy teasing his friend. That might be a premature title, but Steve felt like it could be true again.

"Yes, even me," Tony said with little snort.

"A trial period sounds great," Steve said, standing up. He reached out tentatively to help Tony down off the table. The shorter man accepted his offer, and gripped his hand for just a moment longer than necessary before they opened the conference room door and walked out together. It was a start.


When he walked out ahead of Steve, Tony was met with an anxious teenager, intent on inspecting him from head to toe for injury or assault. Peter tried to be stealthy about it, but that wasn't one of his strong points. It was a miracle he'd made it through his self-assumed undercover operations as long as he had.

"All good here, kid," Tony said gruffly, a bit embarrassed, but also gratified at Peter's concern. Despite everything he was and wasn't, what Rogers had said was true. Peter did love him.

Ignoring him, and giving the same vibe as a 6-month-old puppy with its hackles raised, his kid looked sharply at his face now, probably trying to judge if Tony had any (additional) emotional damage. Peter narrowed his eyes slightly, glanced suspiciously at Rogers, who was trying not to smile, but failing, and huffed a little satisfied breath.

"Can we go back to our rooms now?" he asked, his voice portraying a carelessness that his body language couldn't match.

"Yeah, kid, let's settle in and go over some of those results from the tests Bruce ran today."

"Nah. I'm feeling Star Wars: Episode I tonight."

Tony gave him a searching look. He thought Peter hated that one. It had that weird alien with the long ears. Can Can? Jar Jar? Some strange name. He and Ned had just critiqued and laughed at half the movie the last time they'd watched, so why—oh.

"It has been kind of a long day, huh?" he stated more than asked. He swung an arm around Peter's shoulders and the teenager leaned eagerly into his side. Yeah, a little laughter and probably some close contact is what Peter was needing tonight.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?" he asked, looking back at Rogers, who seemed about three levels more relaxed than he'd been since they'd walked in that morning.

"Do you mind if I discuss the stuff we talked about today with my—I mean, with the rest of the team?"

"Go for it, Spangles. I'm an open book. Or at least I'm trying to be," he amended.

Steve nodded, and the corners of his mouth twitched "You guys have a good night. Will we see you tomorrow? You mentioned something about training together."

"Maybe. Don't wait on us, but if we're up to it, we'll drop by," Tony said, steering Peter towards his suite again.

"Fair enough," he heard Steve say as they walked away.

"So you guys seem… good?" Peter asked carefully. He was still pressed into Tony's side, which made walking a little awkward, but neither of them seemed inclined to give up the closeness at the moment.

"Yeah, kid, I think we are," Tony said. "Or, we will be. We're on the path to get there. It was a good talk. How's the hand?"

Peter reflexively brought it up to show him, even though it was covered with a bandage now. "'S good. Can hardly feel it anymore."

"If only other things could heal as easily and quickly as your hand." Tony mused, squeezing Peter's shoulder briefly. "But then maybe we wouldn't be so careful about avoiding repeating the mistakes of our past."

"You're sounding like my English teacher, now, Mr. Stark," Peter said, his nose wrinkled up in distaste.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to trigger you during your summer vacation," Tony teased. "You know, English is actually a useful subject, if not as exciting as Chemistry and Engineering."

"I'm not triggered!" Peter argued, finally putting a little space between them so he could glare at Tony. "It's just… there's no need for all the metaphors and similes and foreshadowing and deeper meanings and all that. I think it leads to misunderstandings more often than not. People should just say what they feel."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely."

"Well, how do you feel about a little ice cream while we watch the movie? I saw that the freezer has been stocked since last time."

"Now you're finally talking some sense."


"If you hate it so much, why do you watch this movie?" Tony asked, half amused, half annoyed. Peter had been sniping at the movie almost since they started, and seemed kind of grumpy, even though he had worked his way through an entire carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

Peter looked a little sheepish. "We don't hate it, we just think they could have done so much better with this part of the story. It's still cool to see stuff. Even the special effects were pretty good for when it came out, I guess."

"And by the 'royal we,' you mean…"

"Peter sighed, dragging it out in protest of being teased about such an important subject. "Me and Ned."

"Ah. Any chance you want to save the second half to watch with him?" Tony asked hopefully, only partially teasing now.

"No! No, this is good," Peter said, quieting a bit as he set the empty carton on the coffee table, and scooted back to lean into Tony's shoulder.

"You doing okay there, kiddo?" Tony asked. He'd been especially touchy-feely this evening, even for him.

"Are you doing okay? Peter countered. "You guys were in there for longer than you said, and it drove me crazy not being able to hear," he admitted.

"Now you know how the rest of us mere mortals live."

"Tony."

"It was actually a lot better than I thought. The good Captain said he was sorry, and explained that he'd been going through a lot, himself, at the time, which hindered some of his decision-making abilities. Did you realize Rogers wasn't even 25 when he went down with that plane?"

"Wait, really?"

"Yep. Born in 1920, and it went down several months before his birthday. So really he was barely 25 when all the Battle of New York stuff was happening. Couldn't have been easy."

Peter was quiet, and his head was tipped down slightly, so Tony couldn't see anything of his expression in such close quarters. "Yeah. That's… that's crazy. But still, it's no excuse for what he did."

"No, it's not. But he apologized, and he's been working on his own mental health, and he wants a chance to reconcile. Asked me to help him lead this new version of the Avengers. He's realized he's not up to handling all the pressures and decisions on his own."

Peter pulled away to look at Tony, eyes wide and uncertain.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him we'd try it. But I told him I had some other priorities, and couldn't be available all the time."

Peter looked confused. "More important than the Avengers?"

"Well, yeah. I've got a company to run, for one."

Peter scoffed. "Pepper's doing that."

"And I'm getting married soon."

"That's true."

"And there's a certain spider-kid who is kinda high-maintenance."

Peter's eyebrows shot up, and his eyes softened. "I… me?"

"Of course, you. I mean, you can come down with me, when school allows, but I'm not just gonna run off and abandon you. Your internship is important."

"My internship. Right," Peter said dryly, a smile starting to grow on his face. "How responsible you've become."

"Brat." Tony grabbed at Peter's head, trying to scrub his hair in retribution, but Peter ducked away, laughing. He returned immediately, though, leaning against Tony's side again.

"Are we done with all the feelings?" Tony asked. "Can we just watch the awful movie now?"

"Yep. No more complaining about my complaining, though."

Peter didn't complain for very long. Soon his weight was heavy against Tony's arm, and his breath had evened out. Before long he'd need to wake him so they could both go to bed, but for the moment, Tony just leaned his cheek against the soft curls and tried to slow his breathing to match Peter's.

The conversation with Rogers, with Steve, was something he'd been dreading. For years, now that he thought about it. But the alternative—never having that conversation—was worse. And it had gone far better than he'd thought. It had been a long time since he'd felt anger towards his former-friend, but every time he'd been around him since they'd started working together again had made him quite anxious. He felt like lots of that had eased now. Not all of it. It would take time, as would getting used to having Barnes around, and just being part of a team again. But the world needed them. And if Tony was honest, he needed them, too. Or wanted them, at least.

What he needed, he already had. This amazing kid asleep next to him had half his heart, and the other half was waiting for him at home. As long as he could hold onto them, he was pretty sure he could handle working with a few unpredictable super humans.

But he didn't just need to work with them. Steve had asked for his help pulling the team back together. Tony wasn't sure if he had what it took to make that happen, but he'd agreed to try. He just hoped they could be successful.