First of all, Thank you to everyone who is taking their time to read this and commenting/reviewing! I read and appreciate every one of them :)

Second of all, I had one reviewer address the pacing of this fic that I wanted to comment on here. I love to write deep stories the dive into character relationships along with a complicated plot points. This makes the word count rather high. I went into this story trying to keep the count lower, but not at the expense of the story I want to write/read. So all of that to say, every chapter has pushed some part of the plot forward and this one places the final pieces we need in the magic plot. Hopefully you stick around to see it unveiled and Harry and Tony's relationship grow, but if not I get it - long fics aren't for everyone.

Enjoy Tony's half (picking up right after the last chapter) of Meet the Team.

"Does Fury know about him?"

Tony stood at the small bar in the back of the room, near the door leading out to the balcony, watching Harry like a hawk while pretending he didn't see Maria Hill in his peripheral vision or hear the personal question she posed to him.

For the most part, his teammates' activities with Harry had been relatively tame by the Avengers standards. Clint kicked the kid's ass at darts, they were all decently bad at billiards, but it was playing ping-pong that had Tony's head spinning. Of all the awesome stuff he filled their common area with, the damn ping-pong table was the one thing Steve requested and Tony grudgingly added. Who played ping-pong anymore? Harry apparently, because even across the room, Tony could see the talent of his son's swift reflexes, almost looking like he was consistently a step ahead of Steve. Wherever the ball sprang to Harry's paddle always made it the right place to return it.

Harry's downfall, however, came to controlling the ball. Every fifth hit or so, Harry slammed the ball way too hard, sending it soaring somewhere off Steve's shoulder. It was a move Tony pulled often too, but in his case, it usually came from him losing his temper at the boring game, whereas Harry seemed so focused on the ball he simply forgot what game he was playing. Naturally, Steve caught every single wayward ball, sent Harry one of his signature understanding smiles, and they carried right on their way. It made for a rather fascinating game to watch if Tony had ever considered ping-pong fascinating.

Plus, watching Harry give Steve a run for his money at his own game would have been a perfect way to ignore Maria's question until her face blocked his view and once again asked, "Did you tell Fury about Harry?"

Tony downed the last bit of his Coke and made an exaggerated move to place the cup in the sink on the other side of the empty bar. Clint was on clean-up duty this week and Tony loved to hear him complain about the extra dishes he intentionally used.

"Why do I need to tell Fury anything?" He asked, his arms crossed firmly over his chest and eyes squinted warily at her. He had every intention to make the conversation as outwardly uncomfortable for her as he felt inside and had zero guilt over it. "I don't report to him… never had and never will if I have it my way, and I usually do… meaning he has no right to know shit about my personal, private life. So tell me, why does he need to know?"

Maria pulled out the barstool next to him and sat down with her back to the bar and her elbows casually propped over the top of the chair. She leaned towards Tony and said in a low voice, "I'm sure you've already thought about the potential danger that being your son puts him in. If certain people find out…"

She trailed off allowing Tony's imagination to take over, and it did without fail, flashing images of Harry trapped in an Afghanistan cave and Tony anxiously searching for him. The one advantage of having no personal relationships in the past — specifically a girlfriend or a child — was that it meant that Tony's enemies had no leverage to use against him. It forced groups like the Ten Rings to capture Tony alone in order for him to build their damn missile rather than targeting Pepper, and now Harry, as an added incentive; things would have turned out quite differently if they had. For one, Iron Man wouldn't exist because Tony wouldn't have risked fighting his way out of the cave for fear of losing one of them. Despite all the good that came out of Iron Man's creation, Tony would always carry the guilt over Yinsen's death. If someone were to murder Harry just to get to Tony? Well… he might have just learned of his son's existence a week ago, but he already knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if his enemies targeted Harry.

"Yeah, I get the picture," Tony snapped, whipping around and slamming his hand on the bar right beside her arm. Of course, Maria didn't flinch at his aggressive movement or the noise it made, dampened a bit by the surrounding music.

"Fury can help protect Harry. Keep him off the wrong kind of radar."

"I think you're forgetting who you're talking to," Tony warned her through his clenched teeth. "I'm the one who got into SHIELD's supposedly secure system right under your own damn noses with absolutely no one aware of it, so excuse me if I don't trust Fury to do the job right. If I choose to tell Fury anything–and that's a big if–it will be on my terms and not because I'm afraid I can't protect him. I'm fucking Iron Man, if I can't keep my kid safe then we might as well give it all up–" he swept his hands around the room, "–now and throw the towel in."

Maria didn't respond to his rant, not that Tony expected her to because everything he stated had been true. Although accessing SHIELD's database hadn't even been difficult for him to do, he had to accept that few others had the

resources — financially, intelligently, and technologically speaking — to do so. Still, the small number of people out there who could do it concerned him, and after last week's shopping fiasco, he wasn't taking any unnecessary chances.

Tony scanned the room, desperate to avoid any further conversation about the subject, and landed on Rhodey sitting on the couch playing the new sniper game Tony downloaded specifically for him last week. Their eyes met and Rhodey subtly tilted his head, silently recognizing Tony's need and inviting him to interrupt.

"Well, there's my ride. I'll keep your suggestion in mind. Enjoy the bar and remember to use a few extra cups this week," Tony rudely said, dramatically pushing himself off the bar. Right before he left her earshot, he yelled over his shoulder, "And I better not find out you said anything to him first. Believe me, you don't want to flirt with that line."

He didn't wait to see her reaction or stay close enough to hear her response. Slowly making his way over to his friend, he surveyed the team around the room. Everyone besides Rhodey, and now Tony, were mingling in what had to be considered a record-breaking amount of time at one of these events, proving the merits of Steve's little social experiment. Granted, they were all huddled around the ping-pong table, cheering on Harry against Steve in their umpteenth game so Tony gave himself at least half-credit for the success of the night. He waved a hand at Harry and gave him a thumbs up for how awesome his son appeared to be at ping-pong, of all things, before falling down hard beside Rhodey and grabbing the extra remote the other offered to him.

In silence, Tony chose his character and weapon at random, not caring how he played against his friend. For a former weapons manufacturer, Tony recognized the irony of shooting games ranking near the bottom of his video game list. The top spot used to go to any racing game; the faster he could drive the better and he was damn good at them. However, they lost their luster following the events in Monaco two years ago, and he could not get as excited about them since. Now, he usually let Rhodey choose their game, and to no one's surprise, he always picked the war games.

Once all set and ready to start, providing him the perfect veil for his upcoming compliment, Tony muttered, "Thanks for saving me over there."

"Anytime, Tones," Rhodey replied without glancing away from the screen. "Looked like a riveting conversation between you and Hill, anything worth sharing?"

"I think Fury's hiding someone," he said, and with a tilt of his head he added, "or possibly a lot of someones."

"That's a pretty big accusation."

"I don't care." Tony snorted. "And it being Fury, I sure hope whoever he's hiding has a contingency plan from whomever they're hiding from." Under the familiarity of smashing down buttons and watching his targets fall, hitting more frequently than missing, Tony told Rhodey the highlights of Maria's unsolicited idea to include Fury, and by extension SHIELD, in his baby announcement. When he got to the end, he didn't wait to hear Rhodey's opinion on whether he should tell Fury about Harry — it didn't matter to Tony either way — before jumping into his accusation of Fury hiding people. "Hill sounded pretty damn convinced he could keep Harry off the radar of any potentially interested parties. You don't sound that confident if you haven't seen it done before. It wouldn't surprise me if Hill had a hand in it too, which would have been a slightly more compelling justification to include Harry."

Rhodey whispered 'yes' under his breath as his avatar took down two hiding enemies simultaneously. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"Not a fucking thing right now. I have my own mysteries to solve. This will have to take a backseat for a while." Tony clicked his tongue in annoyance, hating to admit he had reached his limit. Taking a brief glance over his shoulder to check Harry was still playing against Cap, he slid closer to Rhodey and whispered, "Want to hear the latest on Bambino?"

Rhodey shot him a sideways glare, and Tony scooted over until their legs were no longer touching. "You know he physically cringes every time you call him that, right?"

"He does?" No, Tony hadn't noticed the action. How many times had he called his kid by the Italian nickname in the last week? Too many, apparently.

"But go on," Rhodey interrupted Tony's train of thought. "What'd you illegally find on him?"

Ignoring the jab at his less than stellar ethics, seeing as obtaining years worth of video surveillance around the UK in the manner he did certainly wouldn't be considered legal even in Tony's loose interpretation of the word, Tony explained the newest conundrum he discovered two days ago, "I have to assume Harry physically went to some kind of boarding school somewhere in the UK, right? Otherwise, that's a big lie to keep straight for as often as he's talked about it. So assuming that's correct, I then asked myself 'how does he get there?' and it turns out he takes a train. Or at least I think he does. I found a video of a pathetic-looking eleven-year-old Harry being dropped off at Kings Cross Station in London by his shitty relatives. They didn't even help him with his luggage. Or made sure he got onto the right train. Which, as it turns out, he didn't."

"You mean he got on the wrong train?" Rhodey asked. Tony winced at the small tinge of hope in his voice that he hadn't misheard the statement.

"Worse." Tony aimed his scope and shot at an enemy soldier hiding in the warehouse across from his avatar soldier. "He never made it onto any train." The game suddenly stopped, right as Tony was aiming at a different guy throwing grenades at him. "What the hell? I was just about to kill him! Now it's going to lag, and he's going to blow me up as soon as you restart it!"

"We both know you were going to miss the shot," Rhodey retorted. "Now, what do you mean he didn't get on any train? Did he leave the station?"

"Turn it back on and I'll tell you," Tony taunted. The two men stared at each other for a second until finally Rhodey resumed the game with a small huff and muttering something about Tony acting like a child. "No, he didn't leave the station and unless there are specific trains not monitored… a whole separate security issue… he didn't board a single train that day. Before you ask, I couldn't track him on the platforms because from ten until noon the cameras on all the platforms were mysteriously down. Total blackout throughout the entire area and not a single service bulletin about it.

"In fact, I can't find any footage of him at all until the following June when he loaded his stuff into his relatives' car. Between those two dates, I can't find him on any camera in London, Surrey, or anywhere in Scotland. But I uncovered a document from his Aunt dis-enrolling him from Stonewall High. On the form, she wrote he would attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys–"

"Jesus, Tony!"

"Yeah, I know," he sighed in defeat. The story kept getting worse the more Tony dug into it, and he hadn't even mentioned the possible owl — yes, owl — in the cage he thought he saw Harry carrying on his luggage cart. Deep down he wanted to just lock it away in a drawer to focus on Harry's present, not his past, except he was never good at putting down a problem until he found the solution. And there was always a solution somewhere. "Thankfully, St. Brutus also has no record of him there and honestly that's one dead end I'm not sure I want to go into any further."

"Then where'd he go for ten months? And how'd he get there?" Rhodey asked the million dollar questions; questions Tony would give double, or triple, to have answered for him. "Maybe Pepper's right, Tones, and you need to flat-out ask him about it. Just do it in a way so you don't look like the creepy stalker parent you're being."

Obviously, Harry knew where he had spent the previous four years of school, so asking him about it directly made the most sense… as a last resort and Tony wasn't sure he was there yet. He tried to subtly ask the teen three different ways about his schooling last week, and each time Harry parroted a version of it being an exclusive boarding school — Tony noted how Harry repeatedly used the term exclusive whenever he described it — in Scotland, he had decent grades, and he played sports there. Although Tony had to say that for having played British football for at least four years, Harry's extremely limited knowledge of the sport claimed otherwise. The same went for his classroom knowledge not aligning with the grades he received in basic math and science. Based on the school reports the professor brought him, Harry was a decent student, earning mostly the British equivalent of B's with a few A's scattered in. Yet he knew basically nothing about geometry or early algebra; two subjects he should have known to have earned the grades on his report cards.

Tony ended up reaching one conclusion which he absolutely hated himself for considering. It made far more sense for Harry to be attending St. Brutus's or a comparable institution than some super-secret boarding school: it was exclusive, didn't stress standard school subjects, and explained the bruises — as well as the strange scars on his arms — Tony saw better than soccer. As an added bonus, if Harry had a violent or criminal background, it could explain why he went missing for a few years as juvenile records were significantly harder to access, why his relatives were eager to ship him off to Tony sight unseen, and why someone, likely the mysterious professor, went out of their way to hide it from Tony, including mocking up a few fake school records to divert his attention away from the true issues. It meant that his two prime contenders were his son being in a cult or violent criminal. Less than ideal options.

Luckily, Tony noticed Harry approaching them before he spewed any of this to Rhodey within Harry's earshot.

"What's up, kiddo," Tony said loudly, emphasizing the last word both to tell Rhodey their investigation had to end and his use of a different moniker. He glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eyes, keeping most of his attention on his avatar's latest target. "I saw you kicking Steve's ass. Didn't realize you had such great reflexes. Like a cat. Seriously, you totally could've hustled him."

"Remember, no gambling, Tones," Rhodey tsked at him, then gave a few grunts at his avatar, and paused the game again.

Tony didn't argue this time, instead directed his focus to his son, taking notice of the obvious shifting of his weight between his feet, on top of the awkward way he cradled his right arm in his left, as if he was attempting to conceal an injury. "You alright there? Did Steve—"

"Oh, it's fine," Harry quickly interrupted, straightening his arm out and flexing his fingers. "See? I'm just feeling a bit… knackered… and wanted to let you know I'm going to head off to bed."

Tony craned his neck to check the clock on the wall. Damn, barely after eleven. What happened to teenagers staying up all hours of the night?

"Sure thing. Let me go tell–" He moved to put his controller down, but Harry stopped him.

"No, you can stay," the teen urged. "I can get back downstairs on my own. Promise."

Tony eyed him skeptically, the recent reminder of his potential stay at St. Brutus's fresh on his mind. JARVIS would watch him the entire way, though, and alert Tony if he went off course, so there wasn't too much trouble the kid could get into.

"Sure thing," he leaned against the sofa, crossing his ankle over his knee to appear calmer about it than he felt. "Go downstairs and get some rest. No offense but you look like you need it. If you see Pepper, can you let her know I'll be down in about an hour? If she's not there, don't wake her up to tell her. Trust me, you won't want to endure her wrath for ruining her precious sleep. But she's probably reading in the living room waiting for us, right JARVIS?"

"Miss Potts is currently working on the puzzle of the Seine River and has three hundred and twelve pieces left to go."

Tony held his hands out as if to say 'there you go'. Honestly, Pepper was a godsend and the guilt of leaving Pepper to deal with Harry every night this past week continuously ate away at him. Not for the first time he told himself he really didn't deserve her and he needed to do better for both her and Harry. Next week. He'd be home more next week… definitely before they left for Malibu at the end of the month.

Harry didn't smile at the joke about Pepper's sleep or comment about her waiting up for them. He simply nodded his head, bid Rhodey good night, and told Tony he'd probably be asleep when he returned. Tony watched him leave, noticing small nuances in the teen he half-hoped he was imagining; a slight limp to his right and a small sway as he waited for the elevator. Tony continued to stare at the empty space long after Harry entered the elevator and JARVIS informed him of Harry's return home, therefore he didn't see Steve come up to them from behind. A dangerous move on the super-soldier's part given their company.

"Rhodes?" Steve asked when neither Rhodey nor Tony greeted him. "Mind giving us a minute?"

Against his will, Tony stiffened at the request, his intuition screaming that Steve's appearance just as Harry left couldn't be a coincidence. Tony clapped Rhodey on the back. "All good here, Platypus. Are you heading back to DC tomorrow?"

"Yeah, in the morning," Rhodey replied, his furrowed face revealing his shared displeasure with Caps' appearance. They may have all come a long way in bonding as a team since they first met on the helicarrier, tracking Loki down, but Rhodey hadn't been there through that and he had experienced, firsthand, Tony living in Captain America's shadow. "Unless, of course, you need me–"

"Nope," Tony emphatically stated, popping the 'p' at the end of the word. Well aware of Tony's true feelings, Tony fully expected a call from the man by tomorrow afternoon or as soon as he settled down in DC.

Tony abruptly stood. "Hope you can walk and talk," he said half over his shoulder. Walking to the food table, he filled two small bowls with popcorn in one and chips — or crisps as Harry had called them — in the other and took them to the same chair where he ate his dinner. Steve faithfully followed and sat down in the seat next to him.

Steve examined the two bowls. "I know I shouldn't ask…"

"And yet you're going to anyway," Tony retorted. He took a handful of popcorn and made a dramatic motion of dropping a few pieces onto the chair on the way to his mouth. The crisps would remain untouched, a full bowl left on the side of the chair. "Clint's on clean-up tonight and I know you know he left an excessive amount of napkins hidden around here on my cleaning night, so I'm returning the favor."

"Very mature of you."

"I aim to please." Tony plopped another few kernels into his mouth. "You and Harry seemed to hit it off nicely tonight. He's a great kid, isn't he? Cooks too. Must have inherited it from Mom's side… those Italians love a good meal. He looked like he was about to kick your ass—"

"How much time have you actually spent with him this week?"

Perfect. He struck a nerve close enough to reveal the true purpose of Steve's little meeting.

"You mean in the single week he's been here? Yeah, I've spent time with him. Certainly more than you have," Tony quipped. Sure, it wasn't nearly as much as he wanted, but he wouldn't tell Mr. Family-Values that. "Who said I didn't? Did Harry say something to you or are you–"

"No one said anything, and there's no need to get defensive–"

"I'm not getting defensive." Tony lied. His guy was telling him Steve meant no harm, but there was something infuriating about the man Tony grew up being compared to — for all intents and purposes, Howard's first son — critiquing his parenting skills; skills Tony already doubted himself on. "I simply think you're forgetting how some of us have to actually work around here and that I have a multi-faceted company to run. Or who do you suppose foots the bills for all this? Not you. And yet you met the kid… my kid… for what? A few hours and suddenly you think you have the right to tell me what I'm doing wrong?" He hesitated, waiting for the other man to respond. Nothing came. Steve simply sat there, his judgemental blue eyes staring a hole into Tony's fractured soul. "Go ahead, Cap. You started all this. Spit it out."

The challenge wouldn't be ignored, which Tony counted on.

Steve pursed his lips. "I think you're in over your head."

"God," Tony chortled. "Because you're such an expert on teenagers? Modern teenagers, nonetheless?"

"No," Steve said, some of the steam leaving his voice. "No, I'm not an expert, but I am observant."

"And what did you observe?"

Steve released a frustrated groan. "He's on edge, Tony… Fidgety. And who could blame the kid? He got ripped from his life and dragged halfway around the world to meet his father whom he thought was dead for the past decade. But… but more than that, he's jittery as in, raced to the side of the table facing the door and then asked Clint to swap with him when we rotated players so he didn't end up with his back to everyone."

"Ok, he likes to face the doorway." A shrug of Tony's shoulder helped him appear less invested in the story than he was. "Many people do. Hell, I can't sleep unless my bed faces North."

"And he constantly scanned the room," Steve continued, unfazed by Tony's attempt to lighten the conversation. "Even as he was actively hitting the ball, his eyes were always roaming around. It made his reflexes even more impressive, but a fourteen-year-old–"

"Almost fifteen," Tony corrected.

"-doesn't naturally have those instincts. It makes me wonder where he learned them, and why."

Tony bit the inside of his cheek to prevent adding his own commentary to the situation. For obvious reasons, he had shared nothing about Harry's sketchy past, the cult, or his probable stay at some criminal institution, and he certainly didn't want to tell Steve Rogers, of all people, about it now. None of it would make this conversation any better. What he felt comfortable sharing was how Harry's relatives were not always the nicest people to him. Not giving any details — those were Harry's to share, or not, if he wanted — Tony disclosed his opinion of Harry being neglected and abused most of his life, logically explaining his reactions; while also showing Steve that he had spoken with his son during the week despite what the man might think.

Reaching the end of his story and his patience, Tony finished with, "So there you have it. Anything else you'd like to bring up while we're chatting?"

The question had been rhetorical, his nicest way of saying 'You don't know shit, now leave me the hell alone', and yet Steve smiled at him. The same better-than-thou smile Tony wanted to wipe off his face using every weapon in his gauntlet.

"Well, since you asked–"

"I really didn't. You're just awful at picking up on context clues… guess you aren't perfect after all."

"Did you notice the tremors?"

Tony grimaced. His arm. Harry holding his arm and claiming it was fine clearly had been a thing… a thing Tony, a better father than Howard Stark, should have noticed. A thing that Steve fucking Rogers did.

"His hand?" Tony dares to admit, and Steve confirmed with a low mhmm. "He had… ah… an issue… on his first night here. Said it was from a sports accident and I had no reason to doubt him. I haven't noticed any problems with it since and figured it healed. What happened? Perhaps the ping-pong flared it up?"

"No, I don't think so."

To his credit, Steve didn't gloat at Tony's disadvantaged position, which was exactly what Tony would have done if their roles were reversed. Instead, he sounded genuinely concerned for Harry, mentioning how shortly after Natasha swapped out with Harry the teen dropped his cup of Coke and then fell straight to the ground… almost exactly the same actions after pizza the first night. Also similar to the first incident, it took Harry nearly a minute on the floor to collect himself. Bruce tried to look at it, but Harry refused, assuring everyone he was just tired, and then calling it a night. According to Steve, Harry appeared in good spirits beforehand, even shit-talking — Tony's interpretation of Steve's account — alongside Clint, and nothing unusual occurred leading up to the event. A few focused questions later, Tony found no glaring physical cause to trigger it, something Steve had apparently already discovered.

Let's add it to the growing list of things surrounding the boy.

"I'll ask him about it," Tony agreed, fully expecting the conversation to end there, but of course Steve persisted.

"I think he'd benefit from seeing someone… like a therapist," Steve offered and Tony was glad he hadn't stood up yet; sitting made it impossible to hit the man for sticking his nose where it wasn't wanted. "Outside of all the changes in living here, he-he reminds me of the guys at the VA."

As the tension between them exponentially intensified, Tony became conscious of the audience they were attracting. He pinched his eyes tightly closed, teetering on the verge of his patience and feeling himself itching to vent all of his pent-up frustrations onto the other man. It was the only justification Tony could fathom for why rather than shutting down the conversation immediately he asked, "And what does that mean, exactly?"

"Like he's seen…or maybe experienced… something..." Steve trailed off, hoping Tony would fill in the blank, and he might have had he not unconsciously made the decision that he wanted to see how far Steve would take it; how deep he'd dig the hole. So when Tony didn't respond, or show any outward notion of understanding, Steve sealed his fate by predictably elaborating, "Like he's experienced trauma, Tony. Something serious too. If you need help, I know a guy—"

In a split second, his eyes snapped open, and he swore he saw red creep into the edges of his vision. Steve crossed the invisible line Tony had set, giving Tony all the rationalization he needed to let go. "Let me stop you right there, Cap. If we… being me, Harry, or Pepper and not a single other person… decide there's a problem then we will handle it however we see fit.

"Give him a break! He's been here for a fucking week! A single week. All I wanted was for you to meet him, so you know what the hell is going on in the Tower. At least let him… let us… settle in before you tear him apart, will you? "

"Tony, I didn't mean–"

"Oh, no, I think you said exactly what you meant. And even if you end up being right, you are way out of line in how you handled it," Tony argued, standing up to effectively end their little impromptu meeting. "And just so there's no confusion here," Tony waved his hand between them, "I'm going to go downstairs, now. Do not follow me."

End Note: Chapter 12-16 were all written together and separated as best to avoid being one huge chapter. I feel like separating it left this chapter a little weak on its own, so since I'm actually ahead of schedule on the writing side, chapter 14 is already mostly edited and I'm hoping to get it out in the next few days.