Reading Time: 124 Minutes

Title: Web of the Wyrd
Author: MykkiTno
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe,X-Men
Genre: Dimension Travel, Hurt/Comfort, Paranormal/Supernatural, Pre-Relationship, Science Fiction, Time Travel, Urban Fantasy
Relationship(s): Tony Stark/James Barnes, Clint/Laura, Logan/Storm, Carol/Rhodes
Content Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Hate Crimes, Hate Speech, Major Character Death, Slavery, Torture, Violence-Graphic, Violence-Domestic. Dub/Non-con experimentation, body modification, death, emotional and psychological abuse, mental illness, discrimination, racism, sexism, child abuse, animal abuse, murder, minor character death. Internalized homophobia, homophobia, DADT mentioned, historical/mythological inaccuracies, alcoholism, addiction, hand-wavy science, and possible inaccurate representation of the mafia. Language and slurs, explicit sexual content. Character Bashing – Howard Stark, Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff, S.H.I.E.L.D, Hydra, Odin, and to a lesser degree, Peggy Carter.
Word Count: 114,614
Summary: During the time heist in 2012, though Loki escaped with the tesseract, this isn’t his story. He’s the catalyst. The Norns take him, offering him a choice, in which he unintentionally creates an alternate universe. This is about the Wyrd, and the ramifications of Choose and Consequence. It’s about an unknown descendant, seventy years of torture, an oath and a promise. It’s a story about two men – one an assassin, one a genius, who in an alternate universe never got a chance to choose; they only dealt with the consequences… Here, Loki bound James Barnes and Tony Stark together before either was born. That changes everything.
Artist: Lalaith Quetzalli

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Chapter Eight

He should have asked more questions; that was his first thought as the memory faded. Amusement, not his, rose within, less frightening than expected. The ancient, wild presence had lingered for decades: a watchful consciousness old as memory, bound to his blood and spirit. Its origin remained mysterious, but Laoch knew this was more than a haunting. He and the creature were bound, their souls woven in a desperate, magical pact, not quite simple possession nor partnership, both inherited and chosen. Sometimes he caught echoes of ancient chains, legends of the wolf whose hunger once threatened the gods themselves, and suspected his fate was tangled with that old story.

Yet the bond was not just a mythic shadow; it shaped his every move in the present. The wolf stirred whenever danger threatened, pulsing through his nerves with ancient instincts, and sometimes, when the risk or fear grew sharp enough, the other presence could seize control of his body. The threshold was blurry: if Laoch’s focus slipped—when he faltered, panicked, or chose violence without restraint—the wolf might surge to the surface, instincts eclipsing his own will. In moments when his strength failed, the creature’s power filled the gap, but each time left Laoch less certain of where one ended, and the other began. He could resist the takeover if he was calm and firmly in control, but strong emotion—rage, terror, despair—left cracks for the wolf to climb through. Every choice now risked awakening the hunger he barely understood, and every enemy he faced might be drawn by the old magic that whispered through his blood. Still, he clung to his sense of self, learning the subtle boundaries that kept the wolf at bay, or called upon its strength, hoping that balance would hold a little longer.

“Do you regret it?” The question escaped, louder than a whisper, but honest. Laoch hunched in on himself, waiting for a response.

Mine.

Us.

Together.

It wasn’t words, but a feeling—like the warmth in his chest echoing around his mind. He swallowed, accepting it. “Will you show me what you were?”

Denial.

Fear.

Defeat.

Laoch shook his head and said, trying to be reassuring, “No, I just—I want—You’ve always been there, never judging. I just want to understand.”

Resignation.

Cautiousness.

Hope.

In that feeling, an image began to build in his mind, no, not an image, a feeling.

Sensation.

A memory.

Fields of grass, lakes, and warm sunshine. Wrestling, wiggling, happy yips, snuggles, kind voice, scent of frost and wildfire. As the memory unfolded in his mind, Laoch felt warmth blooming in his chest—a sudden ache of longing so sweet it hurt, as if he were reaching toward something forever beyond his grasp. A sense of belonging, fierce and wild, swept through him and left his throat tight. Joy and yearning tangled together, so sharp he nearly gasped aloud. Then, abruptly, the image shifted. There was a brief flash: huge, childish paws leaving prints in the snow while a woman’s laughter echoed, her hand resting proudly on a shaggy head. The wolf’s jaws closed gently on a golden apple tossed by a trickster’s hand. A young voice, laced with affection and warning, called a name that rang with power and sorrow. Then came voices in anger, harsh and bitter, changing the scent and sparking a desperate need to protect, to cherish, and to love. The fields, lakes, and sunlight faded into bitter winds, gray skies, and endless rocks that offered no comfort. Laoch flinched inside, fear clawing at his insides as the warmth dissolved into cold isolation. Gone were gentle touches and the kind voice; left instead were chains, an insatiable thirst, and endless hunger. A crushing sense of defeat pressed down on him until it was hard to breathe, and regret and bitterness built up until mourning howls echoed from an unreachable mountain prison.

Below it all, Laoch’s chest tightened with despair, awe at the depth of the creature’s loneliness, and a low, simmering terror that he could someday lose himself just as completely. Somewhere deep inside, a flicker of recognition sparked in his mind, threads of ancient tales winding through the sensation: stories of Fenris, the monstrous wolf of Norse myth, son of the trickster god Loki, whose fate was to be chained by the gods until the end of days. Names and legends whispered through his thoughts: Fenrir, the foretold destroyer, fettered and feared in old stories and mythological retellings. He wondered, only for a heartbeat, whether these legends might hold more truth than anyone ever guessed.

Laoch blinked, opening his eyes to the mirror. His gaze lifted over the reflection of a massive figure—black fur, unruly and wild—rising as he tipped his head higher until their eyes met. The wolf’s eyes were the same shade as one of his own: green flecked with gold, showing the same uncertainty now filling him. The silence that followed drew out, Laoch’s shock softening as amusement flickered in both their eyes. A crooked, toothy grin appeared, both familiar and unsettling, a little more feral and always had been. Which made sense after all, the wolf was part of him now. Which?

“Can I shift into you?”

The wolf tilted his head—perplexed, yet eyes gleaming with interest and growing excitement. It wasn’t a no.

***

Elsewhere, in stark contrast to Laoch’s struggle, Tony faced his own dilemma. For all his brilliance and status as a certified genius, Tony occasionally made mistakes. When he did, the mistakes tended to be huge and had serious ramifications. Bringing Volya back to the tower with a Jarvis-created identity claiming her as his daughter was one of those times. At first, Tony hadn’t thought of a single problem with it—there shouldn’t have been one, and for a while, there wasn’t.

Initially, Pepper had even been oddly supportive, offering proud smiles and encouraging nods. Three months later, Pepper’s support became an expectation and a challenge he couldn’t meet, and Tony regretted not foreseeing that. He hated feeling threatened by her; she’d been his friend for over a decade before anything more. Yet, months after their ending, she was always around.

Stalking felt too harsh—Pepper remained poised, polite and eager, often joining movie nights and day trips, sometimes giving Tony looks he did his best to ignore. As paparazzi attention increased, he quietly had the AI filter internet photos rather than addressing her directly.

Pepper loved his responsible image but lately has been interfering as if entitled, unchecked by him. Now it landed them here: a standoff, minus western dramatics—or, he hoped, weapons.

He knew Volya could probably use either. Despite her young age, she’d grown up under the eyes of a super soldier and a master assassin. Her mother’s unknown DNA made her even more dangerous—an innocent mask hiding something more dangerous than a wolf.

Besides the weirdly and freakily accurate sayings – not quite prophecy, but a sort of empathic ‘knowing’ sometimes, when Volya moved, her uncanny grace showed; an almost unnatural flexibility that allowed her to access places that weren’t normal, but also exposed three security flaws in minutes. Tony sometimes saw a glimmer of green in her eyes when she focused—something beyond ordinary. There were times he could have sworn her pupils narrowed, almost but not quite lupine. More than once, penthouse devices flickered or rebooted around her—subtle enough only Tony noticed, and never when anyone else was watching. Once, after a particularly tense evening, he’d found strange marks etched into the back of the sofa, with no explanation when he asked her. Another afternoon, he caught her in the playroom, and the shadows in the corner seemed to ripple as she laughed, the light bending just slightly, until the plants leaned toward her hand. He knew he hadn’t imagined the glass ball rising a few inches off the table before rolling back, settling as if nothing had happened. Whenever Tony tried to broach the subject with Volya, she would shrug and say she felt “different” inside, as if she were always reaching for something just out of sight. Volya herself had confessed, in a small voice, that sometimes she dreamed of moving faster than the wind or speaking with creatures no one else saw, but she couldn’t say if they were dreams or memories, adding that she spoke in a language that wasn’t from Earth.

His thoughts stalled at Volya’s wrist, where the AI bracelet Jor sat—watchful, protective. He pieced together all Volya had said about them, then closed his eyes, feeling foolish.

Language not of Earth.

Last descendant.

Given a chance and choice.

Magic.

Green Eyes.

Heir….

Tony felt faint, his eyes opening, and he drew a breath, touching the scar on his chest, feeling warmth.

There wasn’t time for more revelations today. Today was supposed to be just for them, but Pepper’s presence—and entitlement—forced Tony to face what he wished to avoid.

“Volya, sweetheart, why don’t you head down to the workshop, alright?” Tony suggested, his tone gentle. “I’m going to have a conversation with Ms. Potts.”

A mulish look crossed her face as Volya reminded him, “You promised the Museum of Natural History, Papa. Just us.” She glared at Pepper, who looked ready to defend herself.

“And we will, just us. I need ten minutes with Ms. Potts,” Tony assured, as Volya leaned against his leg. Her huff—more hiss, then huff—sent alarm bells ringing, and added a plus in the column he wasn’t ready to contemplate yet. He might not know children, never mind magical ones, but they didn’t normally hiss, did they?

Shaking that thought and focusing on Pepper as Volya left the room, he clung to the thought, but it didn’t change how he felt. Volya was his daughter, and it didn’t matter what Pepper believed or said. He might not like seeing people in pain, especially when he caused that pain, but his fear of saying no to Pepper was gone, and that wouldn’t have changed even without the soulbond.

“You shouldn’t let her talk to me like that,” Pepper snapped, glaring at him once Volya had left the room.

“You shouldn’t have barged in and started giving orders,” Tony replied dryly, putting his phone away and checking his watch.

Pepper huffed. “Sorry, but how was I to know you had plans and hadn’t told me?”

“You’re not sorry, so pretty manners won’t work,” Tony said, opening the fridge, grabbing water and a snack bag, then setting them on the counter. “Second, I don’t need to inform you of everything. It was a papa-daughter date, and you weren’t invited. Third, you could’ve checked the schedule—I put it in after rearranging meetings with Laura last week.”

“Volya needs more than science, Tony,” Pepper said. “I thought this would be a good way to bond with her.”

Tony frowned at the princess-themed brochures. “She loves watching their movies, but doesn’t want to be or act like one.”

“Every little girl wants to be a princess, Tony,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes. “They want the fairy tale, the happily ever after.”

“I know my daughter, Pepper. Volya likes dirt, science, history, and the world. She wants to learn. As for her happily ever after, she probably already knows when and how it comes,” Tony tapped the island, running a hand through his hair.

“No, she doesn’t,” Pepper denied with a shake of her head. “That’s the beauty of living.”

“Pepper, my daughter isn’t normal, and you know it,” Tony growled, packing the bag. He pointed as she started to object. “And no, she won’t be tested until she’s older. I’m letting her be a kid and enjoy what she likes.” He tapped the brochure. “That—she’d hate, and she made it clear.”

“You’ll ruin her before she’s a teen,” Pepper snapped. “She’ll be spoiled and entitled, like the media says you are. She needs discipline and routine—not this madhouse.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tony said, zipping the bag and swinging it over his shoulder. “But after all she’s been through, she deserves some freedom.”

“Tony,” Pepper said, grabbing his arm, dropping it when he tensed. “We need to work together. That little girl needs stability and structure. She won’t get that if we’re fighting or living apart. Letting the Bartons live here confuses her, being around enhanced people.”

Tony blinked incredulously at the statement and gestured at himself wildly. “I’m fucking Iron Man, Pepper.”

“You were, yes, but not only are you not enhanced. Yet having a child, you also have to understand how dangerous that is,” Pepper agreed calmly.

“Jesus Christ, seriously?” Tony muttered angrily, scrubbing his face with both hands, “Okay, look, I don’t know what you think is happening here, but one, I’m not giving up Iron Man. Two, Volya’s biological parent is enhanced, with an active X-gene.” Deliberately, he didn’t add the other possibility of ‘demi-god’ to that statement. He did not want a fight with Pepper. Still, as he continued, he couldn’t quiet the tangle of emotions in his chest: fear at how much pain Volya had already endured, guilt that he could do so little to heal her nightmares, and a desperate protectiveness whenever he thought of her past. Sometimes he lay awake, replaying what little she remembered—the escape, the darkness, the monsters who had hunted her. It haunted him, this sense that he’d never be enough to keep her truly safe, but it only made him more determined to try. Instead, he continued, ticking on his fingers, “She was taken in by the X-Men in Madripoor, after she escaped some very bad people. Logan and Jubilee found her outside Lowtown during one of the Reavers’ raids, after her father was captured. She would have been three years old, so if that doesn’t prove she’s enhanced on some level, then you need to educate yourself on what that could mean.”

“Yes, yes.” Pepper waved him off, “She’s brilliant, I get it, but that doesn’t give her the right to tell me no, at the very least, I deserve respect as your girlfriend.”

“You’re not my girlfriend.” Tony snapped, holding up a hand, “No, I’m not doing this. I have a little girl to take out for an educational trip, not to hash out the status of our relationship. As it stands, our relationship is purely professional, with a decade of friendship. Whatever you think, want or have decided in the months since you told me that a romantic relationship wouldn’t work matters very little to me.”

“You can’t just walk away from me, Tony.” Pepper protested as Tony moved around the island and picked up the stuffed wolf he noticed from the corner of his eye.

“Watch me,” Tony replied simply, grabbing their jackets off the couch and the hat he found half-hidden under the pillows.

Pepper followed, heels hitting the ground angrily, “This is important. Stop being childish, Tony.”

“It’s not childish. It’s being responsible for another living, breathing human, and there is nothing more important than my daughter,” Tony snapped, turning to glare at Pepper. “If you wanna discuss whatever you think this is between us, it’ll have to be later.”

Pepper frowned, heaving a sigh of resignation, “Fine, we can discuss this later.”

Tony didn’t bother responding; he just turned and walked away.

***

Staring at the compound from the shadow of a large tree’s branch, Laoch scanned the perimeter with a critical eye, counting the armed soldiers with growing irritation. It had been the first base he’d come across that still held a larger reserve of men, which shouldn’t have made him hesitate. Yet, for some reason, it did, and it felt like a shiver of foreboding he couldn’t explain, like the clock ticking in the background had run out. It wasn’t that he doubted he’d be able to infiltrate it; he knew he could, because he knew the layout of Strucker’s Compound, from both a schematic perspective and personal experience.

Strucker had often requested his services from higher-ups during his tenure. There had also been his last visit, which was probably more amusing than it should have been, at least for him, and he wondered if the witch had survived. No, the doubt came in the form of a lingering fear that the triggers would still affect him, even with Fen constantly looking over his shoulder. Because that was another thing he was still reconciling in his head, the ‘entity’ in his head preferred Fen over their given name of Fenrir, and had refused all offers of a new one. He’d accept that it was the same name as the stories of a monstrous wolf from Norse mythologies, once bound in chains, but what made Laoch wrestle with the knowledge that the lines had blurred between himself and this myth was the images Fen had shared that matched that myth. It meant accepting that which lived inside him was more than a fragment—it was a heavy shadow moving behind every thought.

To keep his sense of self, Laoch had developed small rituals. Sometimes, before going into dangerous territory like this, he’d brush his fingers against the beads around his wrist, focusing on the patterns to ground himself. Other times, if the anxiety spiked, he repeated a silent mantra in his mind—my story, my choices, my name—until the swirling thoughts slowed. Often, just the act of breathing and counting his heartbeats would help, a physical anchor in a world that felt shaped by legends not his own. Once or twice, on the hardest nights, he’d asked Friday to tell him a story, or give him a history lesson on something he missed, letting her voice remind him he was not just a vessel for an ancient hunger, but someone who made his own place in the present. These strategies never fully silenced the stories pressing against the edges of his mind: the hunger, the chains, the betrayal. In quiet moments, he wondered if any part of him—his choices, his wants—truly belonged to himself, or if Fen’s old rage and loneliness shaped him more than he dared admit. But he hesitated to examine that too closely, afraid of what truth he might find, and what that would mean for his own identity. Beneath his outward calm, the conflict churned: the fear of losing himself entirely and the uneasy comfort of having never been alone.

“Got anything, Friday?” Laoch whispered, tensing as his voice floated into the space around him, still not used to working with someone else, especially as it was only by voice, which meant sound could carry.

“Plenty,” Friday chirped instantly, “their firewalls are ridiculously simple, though I can’t access the mainframe, I do have control of the security feeds. From the numbers, I estimate 175 soldiers. I have not seen Strucker yet, though from what I can tell, his suite of rooms is not currently under protection, so it is possible he is not on base.”

The information did nothing to settle him. His hesitation grew as he settled his weight more evenly on his feet, scanning the perimeter again, noting the cameras. “Odds of finding information we don’t already have?”

“Less than 25% for older information, but they would have a 50% rate for current information with possible hints of future actions, records indicate this is one of the last main strongholds under Hyrda’s control.” Friday responded, “I can say from the view of the cameras, that it looks as if this facility was used in experimentation, though of what kind I can’t confirm. There is a vault with guards inside and outside the room, but the view doesn’t extend past the first ten feet. The shadow movement indicates multiple people inside.”

“The experimentations varied,” Laoch muttered, staring sightlessly at the compound. “They had scientific, medical, magical- that was the worst.”

Friday was silent for a minute before she offered hesitantly, “I’m sorry you had to experience that. Boss has had some traumatic experiences with experimentation, so I understand it does damage that is hard to overcome.”

“Thanks, Friday,” Laoch smiled softly, “How many people are between us and the vault?” He asked, making a split-second decision to investigate the vault, knowing that determining the method used in the experiment was more important than the possibility of updated files.

“Approximately sixty,” Friday replied, “Then however many are inside the vault, though I can’t determine if any are enhanced.”

“I’m not particularly worried over if they are,” Laoch admitted, rising to his feet, working the muscle to avoid stiffening, “If it’s who I think it is, she had a couple of run-ins with the Soldier, and they never ended well for her.”

“Very well, I will keep watch on the cameras and inform you of pertinent information.” Friday accepted the comment without argument, falling silent.

Taking one last look around the perimeter, Laoch jumped from the tree. Doing one more check of weapons, before he pulled on the essence that made up the shadow that had guarded him longer than he’d understood. The surge of excitement flooding him made him grin as he slipped inside without a sound. It was hunting time.

***

Tony pulled the cup of coffee closer, taking a sip as he flipped the page of the book he was reading, attention momentarily distracted by the sound of heels entering the penthouse, and sighed, resigned to finishing the fight from that morning. His temporary relief that Pepper had an early-morning appointment, meaning she’d head back to her condo and leave it for another night, disappeared.

“Tony.” The tone was hard and controlled, an underlying edge of combativeness laced in the single word, but Tony was past caring and held up a finger to indicate he wanted her to wait. He might be resigned to the fact he’d have to discuss this with her, but he wanted to finish his page first. The idea that they could have had a relationship after Extremis was a short-lived, bitter affair. Three months of bliss, and now it was as if their ‘friendship’ was contentious at best. The last three weeks, obviously a fluke, or a belief that she’d finally won something in this battle about him being Iron Man.

Upon reflection, he concluded that nothing he did ever met with her approval, and that her cautious acceptance of hiring Laura had a double edge. Tony knew she thought he did it as an excuse to sleep with her. It hadn’t mattered what either he or Laura had said; she had only rolled her eyes, though she had privately lectured him about continuing to sleep with Laura when Clint had shown up. She’d been less than pleased with Clint’s inclusion, citing that he wasn’t professional on the job. Not that Tony cared about that, he loved it when Clint took on guard duty; they had fun together, even if it tended to be more bloody. Clint wasn’t fucking around with his safety, even if it was Laura who walked around with sharp, deadly pointy things growing from her hands and feet. This weird dance with Volya was the last straw in the building avalanche, heading to confrontation, and it was one he still hadn’t seen until this morning.

“Tony, we need to talk.”

The rapid tap of a toe made Tony sigh, mark his place, toss the tablet aside, and glance at the clock on the wall. “If this is work-related, I sincerely hope it’s an emergency, as it’s past 10 pm, Ms.Potts.”

Startled, Pepper’s toe stopped tapping before she huffed out a breath, “No, it’s not work-related, and you know it.”

“Then I really don’t care,” Tony replied, snagging the tablet, already done with the conversation.

Pepper growled and moved in front of him, tugging it out of his hands and sitting in front of him on the coffee table. “No, you promised we could talk about us, Tony, and I made sure we could.”

“I’m sure you think it is -”

“Volya is not your daughter.” Pepper snapped, interrupting him.

A flare of anger surged through him at the perceived attack, and he stared at her, jaw clenching, “Yes, she is.”

A pitying expression crossed Pepper’s face, and she shook her head, “No, she’s not, Tony. DNA testing confirms that the child is not yours, so whoever told you she was is wrong. Now we have a couple of ways to play this. I’ll contact CPS in the morning, and they can be here to collect -”

“Get the fuck out.” Tony snapped, rage making him shake.

“No, this is for your own good,” Pepper snapped back, smoothing her hands over her skirt, “I thought you’d turned over a new leaf, and understood the responsibilities and duties that came with raising a child, but your continued insistence that you’re still Iron Man is ridiculous. You obviously aren’t ready for the level of care a child needs.”

“I know my responsibilities and duties concerning Volya, none of which involve your opinion or grading.” Tony ground out through clenched teeth.

Pepper rolled her eyes, ignoring his statement. “Whoever this person is that convinced you to accept this child as yours needs to come in for questioning and sign the NDA the lawyers have compiled.”

Tony stared at her, in a sort of horrified shock, that made him actually look at the woman, and let out a humourless laugh, “You didn’t listen to a single word I said about Volya, at all, did you?”

“I had them check the DNA testing three times, before coming to you,” Pepper huffed, shaking her head, “and while I tried to make nice, she’s not your responsibility, Tony.”

Tony had to laugh again; he really did. It was either laugh or lash out at Pepper, and while she might deserve the reprimand, no one else needed to be disturbed because he lost his temper. “J, find those files and scrub them.”

“Don’t, Jarvis.” Pepper countered with a sharp tone.

“Of course, Sir, I apologize that Ms.Potts was able to slip this by me.” Jarvis replied, tone indicating his displeasure, “Given the subterfuge Ms.Potts enacted to slip this past my notice, I’ve taken the liberty to investigate further. I will let you know when I find something, Sir.”

Pepper looked at him with wide eyes, reflecting her shock and anger, “You can’t just investigate me as if I’ve done something wrong!”

“Pretty sure your defensive posture tells me I should.” Tony replied calmly, tilting his head, “Why’d you do it?”

“I’m protecting you and this company!” Pepper snapped, rising to her feet, “You show up after a vacation I had to spend pacifying the board, claiming this kid was yours. You tossed paperwork in my general direction, refused to answer questions and just expected me to accept it.”

“Yeah, because it wasn’t any of your fucking business.” Tony snapped back, angry all over again, “It’s private. You made it explicitly clear we’re not together, and never will be again. Which? Fine, that’s your prerogative, you feel how you feel, and nothing I say will change that. You asked for space, I gave it, and moved on. You don’t get to come to my home after business hours and lecture me over something you have no knowledge of.”

“Someone has to!” Pepper yelled, “Rhodey wouldn’t listen to me and kept telling me to drop it. You have that Barton family camping out, that almost cause more issues then they solve, and a little girl born in 2009, you adopted like a puppy.” She gestured wildly, pacing around the room, “well I got news for you Anthony Stark, you can’t just get a kid, play with it for a few weeks and go back to being a fucking ass afterwards.”

“You know, if Rhodey is telling you to drop it, maybe you should have listened to my best friend.” Tony said snidely, “He’s only been my confidante for thirty odd years.”

“Which is why we could never work!” Pepper snapped, “You couldn’t be serious enough to commit to me, not when you had Rhodey enabling you in the corner.”

Tony blinked, then blinked again for good measure, rising to his feet. His body thrummed with tension and anger tingling along his skin. Yet somehow, through all that, he managed to keep his calm and inject an edge of sarcasm into his tone: “Are you jealous?”

Abruptly, Pepper tensed and turned to glare at him, “I am not.”

“Yeah, you are,” Tony argued and rocked on his heels, “the most amusing part of that is, you don’t even know what to be jealous over.”

Pepper let loose a growl of frustration, hands clenching at her side, “You would be too, if your boyfriend came home claiming a kid was his, with a birthday coinciding with his captivity in Afghanistan. I had to be sure it wasn’t some larger plot to use you, which was a better thought in my head than the alternative, which was assuming you’d cheated on me.”

Flinching back like he’d been struck, Tony clicked his jaw, “I might be many things, and a lot of them negative, reflecting all the bad, horrible parts of Howard, but one thing I am not, and never will be, is a willing cheater.”

Pepper softened momentarily, “which is why -”

“Which is why – nothing!” Tony shouted, “We weren’t even fucking, never mind dating then! If you had genuine legitimate concerns, you know you could have just come to me, you could have actually asked, instead of assuming, or you know, trusted that I knew what I was doing.”

“I can’t trust you to take care of yourself.” Pepper snapped angrily, “And don’t be crass, it’s beneath you.”

“I’ll be as crass as I want, and I can’t trust you, so I guess we’re at an impasse.” Tony replied flatly, “I expect your resignation on my desk, Monday morning. You’ll receive an outstanding severance package, with three months to transition duties over.”

Shock rippled across Pepper’s rapidly paling face, “You’re firing me?”

“You tried playing nice with my daughter to get back with me, all without a fucking conversation,” Tony sighed, resignation bowing his head, and shrugged his shoulders, “If we don’t trust each other, then what’s the point in continuing this?”

Pepper flinched, taking a step back, now holding her hands out in front of her, “Okay, look, maybe I came on a little too strong, and didn’t approach the situation the right way, but past experience told me to rip the bandaid off and be blunt about this.”

“Your justification doesn’t really merit consideration, Ms.Potts; it’s the fact you don’t listen,” Tony replied tonelessly, a little surprised at himself that he didn’t feel as horrible as he thought he should.

“I listen!” Pepper cried, tears filling her eyes.

“No, you assumed.” Tony corrected gently, “I never said Volya was my biological child. What I said was, we needed to create an airtight identification, so she was my daughter, and was calling me papa, because she was born in Madripoor, and her surviving biological parent is deep undercover.”

Pepper jerked her head in a negative, “No, you didn’t.”

“Would you like J to replay the conversation?” Tony asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Her mouth opened and closed rebelliously before she snapped, “That doesn’t change the fact that you literally told the world she’s your heir.”

“She is,” Tony shrugged carelessly, and sent a glare Pepper’s way when she opened her mouth, “and better protected for it. No one is going to look for her biological parents, because technically, neither actually exists. But that’s beside the point. I get you might not understand what’s going on, but you don’t have to. As I said, this is personal and has nothing to do with SI, or your position as CEO of a company I own the majority of.”

Now Pepper looked like she was about to cry, and while the tears twisted his gut, Tony refused to be swayed by them. He hated that she resorted to them when they fought and turned away, freezing as he caught the glittering green eyes staring at them from the shadows. “Hey, sorry we bothered you.”

Laura stalked from the shadows, “It’s fine, I’ve been expecting this for weeks now.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at her and sighed when he heard Pepper’s shocked gasp, “can’t say I’m surprised by that, Talon, what’d you find?”

“Upon learning you claimed a child, Ms.Potts dug out her contract that named her CEO. From what I can deduce, even though it was a clause she put in place to prove she wasn’t attempting to use you, she seemed concerned with the fact she would lose the stocks as they automatically revert back to you upon having a child,” Laura explained, waving a tablet, though Tony only frowned.

For a moment, Tony’s expression darkened further as he wondered if Pepper’s motives were truly about corporate security, or if her actions were fueled by a deeper fear of personal loss, fear that the life they’d built, and her place in it, was slipping away to someone new. He couldn’t help but consider that maybe it was both, twisted together until even Pepper might not know where one ended and the other began.

Across from him, Pepper felt the tremor of uncertainty that had been building inside her for weeks. Part of her bristled at the idea that Tony would believe she cared only for the company’s interests, when in truth, she felt the fragile anxiety of being replaced. She had fought so hard for her place by his side, first as his assistant, then as the one who steadied him when no one else could. Yet alongside that sense of loyalty, the sharp pull of ambition never quite faded, no matter how much she wanted to pretend otherwise. Sometimes she caught herself weighing her success at SI against her happiness, unable to choose which mattered more. Her love for Tony tangled so closely with her drive to matter, not just in his world but in the world at large, that she struggled to tell where one ended and the other began. Watching him build a new kind of family without her was something she hadn’t prepared for, and the sting of being left behind threaded every decision she’d made lately. She told herself her choices were pragmatic, focused on SI, but beneath the logic, a raw ache throbbed: the fear of being rendered irrelevant, and the hope that she could still mend what was slipping away.

“You did this all because of the stocks?”

Pepper flushed, but straightened her back, making Laura tisk in softly. “No, she did it because the board could argue her placement as CEO isn’t valid,” Laura said simply.

“What?” Tony replied dumbly, then blinked in surprise, “Natasha signed as notary.”

Laura nodded in agreement.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Tony demanded, turned to look at Pepper, who shrugged helplessly. “We had enough of a cluster fuck when Natasha infiltrated SI, including numerous contracts that had to be resigned.”

“You didn’t think of it either,” Pepper muttered angrily, flushing when he glared at her.

“You were placed as CEO because I fucking trusted you, Pepper!” Tony snapped, “I distinctly remember the amount of paperwork I had to resign, due to specific negotiations. I kind of expected that one to be there, because on average I was signing upwards of forty-seven a day in that two-week period alone.”

“I didn’t want my judgment called into question; I was the one who decided and hired her.” She gave a helpless, breathless laugh, “The Board never trusted me, but they let me be, because I showed I could control your more wilder impulses.”

“Which apparently includes signing shit without confirming exactly what I’m reading,” Tony muttered bitterly, running a hand through his hair, “makes me wonder what shit you placed in front of me, when I gave you my unwavering trust to just sign them.”

Tilting his head, Tony watched Pepper fidget, her face flushing at the accusation, and made an odd humming noise. His eyes turned blue as he connected to Jarvis techopathically. “J, who was responsible for signing anything under the Carbonell name?”

J didn’t respond immediately, but Tony was fine waiting, flipping through the reports Friday had compiled on the bases Laoch had hit, and only paused when Jarvis did the equivalent of clearing his throat, before offering the tax reports and noting Pepper’s signature, next to his own. “Is she still making sure money is flowing into the S.H.I.E.L.D. accounts even though the ‘business’ is defunct?”

“It appears she made a private one for the Avengers. The claim is that it made it easier for accounting,” Jarvis replied, “Though that could be because of the lockout I put on the S.H.I.E.L.D. accounts. Laoch is using a new account, which Friday is funnelling through offshore accounts first, and then adding the money he’s been siphoning from Hydra. Though it does appear that she has repeatedly requested a meeting with Maria Hill, which I find odd.”

“It is odd,” Tony admitted, “look into that J, and reach out if you feel the need.” Tony broke the connection, allowing his eyes to fade from blue to his normal brown as he folded his arms across his chest. “Ten years, 232 days, 11 hours, and 32 minutes, we’ve known each other, Virginia, and I hired you against Obie’s suggestion,” Tony admitted softly, “I hired you because I knew even then that we could be friends, even without the rest, but that only works as long as there’s trust.”

A grim smile creased Tony’s mouth, “I know I haven’t been the easiest person to deal with, and I appreciate your help more than you expect, or probably believe, but Volya should never have been a source you believed you could target, once I told you she was my daughter.” He raised an eyebrow when she opened her mouth to argue, “No, your beliefs or justifications mean little to me.” His voice hardened. “Neither does the opinion of the Board. If that was something I took into consideration, you’d never sit in the CEO’s chair, and you readily admitted you know that.”

“I did it to protect you,” Pepper whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“Just like you protected me from Carbonell’s Inc?” Tony inquired, watching the blood drain from her face, and shook his head. “Did you know what the company was?”

“No,” Pepper admitted, and then shrugged, “At least not at first, and not officially. I did some minor digging that first year I worked as your PA, but Ms. Carter contacted me and told me to keep my nose out of it and never discuss it with you, as it had to do with your father.”

“Eh… I’m not sure I can argue that I would have taken it calmly, but being blindsided is worse.” Tony admitted, suddenly feeling exhausted, his shoulders dropping as Laura came up beside him, scenting his neck as she directed him to sit down, “Here’s what’s going to happen. If you answer me honestly, can you continue working in your capacity as CEO with the understanding that Volya is non-negotiable in any single capacity, even when her biological parent emerges from their undercover work?”

For a brief moment, Tony’s gaze drifted to the windows, sensing the fraught peace inside his own walls. Even as he spoke with finality, he couldn’t deny a ripple of uncertainty winding through his chest. The question of Volya’s parents was not the only shadow threatening their uneasy stability; there were enemies who might still be watching, waiting to exploit any sign of fracture within his circle. Hydra had not yet been erased; several known splinter groups were rumoured to be regrouping, searching for any weakness they could use against him or the child now under his roof. Interesting, though, the reports that had surfaced in coded messages hadn’t been related to Hydra. Most of those were rivals, or bigshots hoping to make a name for themselves, not realizing exactly what they were getting into when they sought to challenge him.

“Why wouldn’t you give her back?” Pepper frowned in confusion. “That doesn’t seem fair to her parents, you or me.”

“She’s not a fucking puppy,” Tony snapped pointedly, enraged, “and while I may not be her biological parent, I love her as if I were, nothing will change that, not even their reemergence, as they’ll more than likely move in here anyway.”

“What?” Pepper demanded, “Why would you invite some perfect stranger to live with you?”

“Not your business, Virginia,” Tony replied blithely, watching the flinch at her first name.

“It is my business when I might run into them in the middle of the night.” Pepper snapped peevishly.

“You shouldn’t be running around my home in the middle of the night,” Tony shot back, frowning, and folded his arms.

“Tony, you’ve only known this child for a few months; you can’t possibly be ready to make this sort of commitment,” Pepper chided tiredly, her tone making him glower at her. “If you were that lonely, you should have just adopted a puppy; it would have been easier and more convenient for both of us.”

“So that’s a no,” Tony said simply, accepting the tablet Laura handed over, the contract he’d signed five years ago up on the screen, “Jarvis, start the process to dissolve, Ms.Potts from her position, revoke all access to my private labs, here in the penthouse, and ensure Jor is aware not to leave Volya alone with Ms. Potts. Ever.”

“What? No, you can’t do this, Tony.” Pepper protested, taking a step forward, “Not only do I not want to lose my position, just because I don’t agree with you, but I’d never hurt a child.”

Tony scrolled to the bottom of the contract, staring at the signatures there blankly, “I could have dealt with the lies, double dealings, or omissions,” He shrugged and laughed bitterly, looking up at her. “It’s a theme, right, daddy-dearest, Obie, but you- you were different, or I thought you were.” He stressed the word. “And maybe that was unfair to you. I built you up and put you on this pedestal, but seriously, one simple question, and you proved yourself incapable of honouring that. Volya is non-negotiable. Period.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Pepper whispered sadly, shaking her head. “I can do better.”

“Virginia, we aren’t dating, and never will again.” Tony stated softly, “Volya or not, I have no interest in renewing a relationship with you. You held Iron Man over my head like a vice, and I have no interest in experiencing that again, in any capacity.”

“So that’s it?” Pepper snapped, suddenly angry.

“That’s it.” Tony agreed easily, not reacting to the anger, “You have the choice of resigning, or I can fire you right now, though think carefully, either way, if you decide to light a fire before you go, I’ll bury you. The NDA’s you signed are separate from the CEO position and are effective for ten years after employment ends for any reason.”

Pepper’s eyes widened, “What?”

A sharp, bitter smile crossed Tony’s face, “My father was a piece of shit, but he taught me one thing: don’t trust anyone in the Corporate World, be they enemy, rival or friend. All of them can betray you for a leg up.” Tony set the tablet down, “With the work SI used to be involved in, strict NDA’s were a requirement, and given that you were my PA and then CEO, your NDA’s are definitely more restrictive in what you can discuss in a new place of employment.”

“I…” Pepper trailed off and licked her lips, glancing away, looking around the penthouse, eyes widening as she actually took in the differences.

Tony knew what she saw: the kid paraphernalia scattered around the living room, toys, clothing, colouring books and markers, and books. The wall, the kids had claimed, showcased their artwork or awards, with the large calendar showing the kids’ schedule mixed in with things for the adults. From where Pepper stood, he knew she could see the wall off the dining room, the room they ate dinner in every night, that had the memorial wall of photographs, offering snapshots of the adventures they’d gone on with the kids, or ‘date’ night with one of the adults, as Clint had coined it, claiming that they still needed time for themselves.

It was what caused the tear to roll down Pepper’s face; previously, and maybe later, he would feel guilty about it, but right now, it felt freeing. He knew what it showed, and what Pepper had seen, but never seemed to understand, believe or accept. But all Tony had ever wanted was a family, and he’d built it without her. It might have been petty, but the flash of regret that flared in Pepper’s eyes felt validating and told him more of Pepper’s actions and thought process than she probably expected. The expectation that she could string him along, cajoling him and steering him to be what she wanted, when she wanted, had always been her motivation. It was a little too much like his father’s use for him, something to be taken out, dusted off, and shown off before being placed back on the shelf. It was something he refused to let Volya be subjected to and recognized it for what it was.

“I’ll have my resignation ready for you tomorrow,” Pepper whispered, wiping at her face, and took one look around the penthouse she’d helped decorate, though nothing but the furniture was left to show that, and swallowed before turning away. Pepper paused in the hall and turned back, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Anthony.”

“So am I,” Tony admitted, and closed his eyes as her footsteps receded, and the elevator pinged shut, and he leaned against Laura, unsurprised when Clint slipped onto the couch beside him, and held him as a tear slid down his cheek, mourning the friendship he’d thought would last.

***

Chapter Nine

It was a nightmare.

He wasn’t trapped; the knowledge he could break free at any point was a burning certainty in Laoch’s chest. With each heartbeat, he clung fiercely to the sense of self Fenrir gave him—a bitter assurance nothing could ever hold him captive again. As he watched a life eerily close to his own unfold, a cold awareness pressed in: this time, the shadows of memory shifted into painful clarity. After his eighth birthday in this version, Laoch’s name faded, his existence erased piece by piece until he became nothing more than a whispered rumour among ghosts. There was no Volya—no laughter in the quiet halls, no tiny arms around his neck, no spark of hope to anchor him in the darkest nights. Volya was more than his daughter; she had been a miracle, proof that love, belonging, and family were possible for him. Losing her meant losing the only person who saw beyond the scars and darkness, the one who gave him a reason to fight. The emptiness she left carved out the heart of this reality, leaving only hollow repetition and loss. It was as if fate itself had decided he would be utterly alone. The agony of that difference cut deeper than any physical pain; Volya’s loss was so complete his soul ached at the memory’s absence.

Compelled by a raw curiosity, Laoch watched, dread and hope tangled in his chest. The street fight with Steve replayed, then the struggle on the helicarrier, ending with: ‘Who the hell is Bucky?’

Running.

Hiding. 

Neither fighting nor destroying. 

He cowers—broken, desperate—terror clawing at his fragile remaining self, breath ragged as he fights not to shatter entirely.

Framed.

Chased.

Triggered.

A fight in an airport.

Escape.

The savage chill of Siberia crushed into his bones—a sentence, a grave, a home devoured by despair. The need for oblivion, for the numbing peace of Cryo, stabbed at him with such longing it nearly choked him, even in this monstrous dream.

Red and Gold.

A road grinding beneath throbbing, ruined feet. He knows this is a lie, yet the weight suffocates him, draining all strength to resist. Steve is there—unyielding, overwhelming, an impossible force crushing his will, leaving him pinned and helpless.

“Did you know?”

The question claws at the air, desperate and aching. The answer crushes him.

“Yes.”

Grief. Betrayal. Rage.

Pain. Blood. Horror.

The other him lay broken beyond belief, knowing death should have claimed him. He knew every cold fact: the suit’s efficiency, the deadly threat. As the Asset, even survival instincts screamed never to confront Iron Man—a living extinction. The blue light flickered and died; every breath rattled with finality. ‘Leave it, you don’t deserve it.’ The clang of vibranium on stone was a gavel sentence. Steve dragged him, ignoring mumbled protests, fingers numbly trailing in loss. ‘Never leave a man behind.’ But the words hollowed out with grief, echoing as his vision faded.

Warmth. Freedom. Heated arguments—always fighting. The ritual of blaming and complaining becomes a blessed relief, a sharp contrast to the isolation that preceded it.

James kept his head down, not wanting to get involved, but still heard everything. James heard about Ultron, the Accords, opposing sides… and even Asgard falling?

There was a giant wolf fighting. Ragnok? Running. Escaping. The sensation of being trapped tightened around him—trapped.

“NO! Stop! What are you doing?”

Laoch tilted his head, curiosity piqued—the interruption hadn’t come from the dream-nightmare; it was something different.

Aliens. Red, Gold, Blue, Green. Space. Red Ruins. Dead Planet. Five coloured stones.

Thanos.

“Stop showing him this! You’re mine!”

Laoch blinked, feeling an odd pull, like something trying to escape, and, as a gut reaction, he tightened his grip; a feral grin spread across his face as it squawked in pain.

Warmth. Trees. Peace.

Aliens. Stones. Fight.

Fight. Outnumbered.

Lightening. Thunder.

Snap.

Silence.

Nothing.

“HOW? How did you do this, mortal?”

Laoch ignored the voice, hugging Fenrir closer, watching another version of James form and fight.

Resignation, bowing his shoulders, fighting another person’s war.

Always fighting.

Two men share a look: the one with a cape holds up one finger, dawning comprehension, and something like grief crosses the other’s face. It was the acceptance of fate.

“I am inevitable.”

“And I am, Iron Man.”

Snap.

Loud.

Audible.

Silence.

Laoch closed his eyes, and grief thundered through him, every breath jagged, a knife in his lungs. Fen pressed tight, but the comfort sharpened the ache. Through it all, a torn whisper made the hurt nearly unbearable—‘Wasn’t meant to be… wasn’t… Wrong… wrong… help me! Help me, please!’ Despair and panic stripped his defences raw, leaving him reeling.

He shook his head, not trusting the voice. It paused, pushing and pulling at him, and the grief-stricken scene faded to reveal Mr.Sataer standing before a giant tree.

“No! You’re supposed to be trapped.”

Mr.Sataer shifted again, now standing outside Laoch’s cryo chamber, frustration, grief, and regret etched on his face.

Mr.Sataer stood over Laoch’s bleeding body in the bottom of a gorge… shifting until he stood over Laoch stretched out on a table… shifting, watching Laoch receive the draft papers… running through the back alleys of Brooklyn… Hungry. Cold. Anger. Judgement. Tears. Resignation.

It was decidedly odd to watch his life backwards from an outsider’s perspective, yet to watch it through the eyes of Mr.Sataer, until he stood beside him behind the shipping crates, hiding him as they watched the Christmas Night Massacre, was weirder.

Laoch saw Mr.Sataer touch a young version of James’s forehead, implanting Mr.Sataer’s existence in young James; Laoch swallowed hard. Next, Laoch watched Mr. Sataer before a younger woman with eyes like Laoch’s own offered a familiar book of fairy tales. Then, they offered a name denied to James for decades, and the education to read it felt heartbreakingly significant.

Loki Laufeyson.

His life felt like the cruellest joke. Hands curled into trembling fists, storming with fury and disbelief so sharp it nearly knocked him down. He’d known—had to have known since Fenrir’s return—but swallowing the full awful truth of his bloodline was like drowning. Then, like sunlight in a hurricane, Tony Stark’s laughter—clear, honest—echoed in his mind, dragging the ghost of a smile from the pain. And he understood for a moment: not all of it was a lie. For even a chance with Tony, he would have fought through every betrayal and wound again, hope blazing beneath the ruin.

Laoch’s eyes snapped open, hand flying to his chest as it warmed explicitly, tingling like a thousand stingless bees against his skin, and he automatically pulled the shirt off in one fluid movement as he sat.

Looking down, Laoch watched in fascinated disbelief as the symbol Mr.Sataer—Loki—had drawn on the ground decades earlier slid across his skin: up Laoch’s chest, along his right shoulder, wrapping around his bicep. It glowed faintly, then sank in, a visual mark. Others might see it but not understand the Web of the Wyrd, Laoch’s duty, or the cost of reaching this point, but he did, and he blinked the sting of tears at what felt like acceptance.

He studied the intricate pattern, the lines weaving and intersecting with purpose. The Web of the Wyrd was more than a sigil or mark; it was the living map of fate itself, the tapestry connecting past, present, and future. Each line represented a choice made or path not taken, stretching backward into ancient memory and forward into possibility. The old stories whispered that the Norns, fates older than any god, wove the strands of everyone’s existence into their ever-shifting web. To bear this mark meant shouldering the weight of destiny, yet also a spark of freedom: to shape the strands, however slightly, with every act of courage and will. To outsiders, it was only a peculiar symbol. To Laoch, it was a reminder that nothing happens without consequence, and that even the gods themselves could not escape the web.

Pressing his metal fingers to the permanent mark, Laoch swallowed, longing swirling in his gut, as he glanced from the spectre on the table to flick his fingers, the box snapping shut.

“Friday?”

“Yes, Laoch?” Friday responded instantly, voice kind and grounding, as it always was when he woke abruptly.

“I think…” He drew in a deep breath, a rush of anticipation flooding his system and making him lightheaded, and he forced himself to release it slowly. “I think it’s time to go home.” As he gathered himself, the world outside his thoughts began to shift, signalling a return from the inner journey to the reality awaiting him.

***

Meanwhile, Tony never told anyone his revelations or possibly what he thought might have been revelations about the ancestors of one James Buchanan Barnes; not sure if it was cowardice or fear that held his tongue. How do you begin – even with evidence (subjective as it might be) – telling them that James was a descendant of Loki?

The week after Pepper’s resignation hit the media, Tony also used the excuse—at least in his head—that he was too swamped to think about it. He was, though, and almost wished for a time machine, if only to get more hours in the day, not necessarily to go back and change anything. The board was in an uproar over the upheaval, considering they still had to close the fourth quarter, and yet for all the yelling in the room, SI stocks never dropped, and actually increased marginally, as if waiting to see who would head the company.

The board was in an uproar over the upheaval, considering they still had to close the fourth quarter, and yet for all the yelling in the room, SI stocks never dropped, and actually increased marginally, as if waiting to see who would head the company.

It was something Tony was still contemplating, waiting for the dust to settle. He didn’t want to take on the role again—he was already overloaded, working what felt like four jobs. One wasn’t even official yet. While he was sorting data on Carbonell Inc., he now had S.H.I.E.L.D. issues to address, too.

Maria Hill had finally made contact with Jarvis, and her message was layered with irritation he couldn’t account for. Although he suspected that it was also a layover with Pepper.

In all of it, raising Volya was the most vital job he had and the most terrifying. Volya, the little girl he adopted under extraordinary circumstances, but James’s biological daughter, Loki’s blood by way of James and blessed by fate, had redefined the very center of Tony’s world. She was a living legacy of barely believed miracles, forged from survival and love, and her presence in the tower was both a comfort and a constant reminder of everything at stake. Sometimes, Tony caught a flicker of something otherworldly in her eyes or noticed how the air seemed to change around her when she concentrated too hard on a story or a puzzle. Lights would hum, shadows shift, or small objects would drift just out of reach—as if reality itself bent a fraction in her presence. He didn’t pretend to understand the precise nature of her abilities, but he watched her closely, both in awe and in worry, determined to help her navigate whatever gifts she inherited. Tony forced himself to remember each day what not to be: anything like Howard. It was unthinkable. He couldn’t always give Volya what she wanted when she wanted it, but he made it a sacred duty to explain why and to bend his life to include her priorities. His ‘work’ hours stayed unyielding, nine to five, and only after the kids slept did he retreat to the lab. J enforced a hard stop at midnight, locking his lab with gentle finality. Still, sleep came maybe half the time. Even so, the nightmares hunted him less, their claws dulled since Volya’s laughter began to echo in the tower’s halls. For that, Tony’s gratitude was bottomless.

“Boss?” Friday’s voice broke his contemplations, and he lifted his head from where he stared sightlessly at the holo screens in front of him, gently nudging him back to the present from swirling thoughts of work and family.

“Yeah, baby girl.” He glanced at the holo screen again, not even sure what he’d been doing, before flicking it closed, turning his full attention to his second AI.

“Laoch has requested a meeting,” Friday said simply. Her voice conveyed none of her own thoughts, yet it still made Tony’s heart race. Adrenaline kicked into high gear, yet none of it was fear-based.

Taking a calming breath, Tony licked his lips, “Alright, virtual or in person, and does he have a place picked out? Cause it’ll take me time…” Tony trailed off as light flickered in the corner of the room, his thoughts and the mood in the room quickly shifting from anticipation to surprise.

A swirl of black and green appeared, leaving a man behind, carrying a large duffel bag in one hand, a long case in another, with multiple gun bags on his shoulder, and enough visible weapons that it did things to Tony’s libido, as he wondered how many he couldn’t see.

The man – Laoch – at least that’s what Tony was going with as Friday didn’t raise an alarm, and J was silent as well, glanced around the room. Danger and awareness in his stance, though it left the man open for Tony’s continued pursuit. His arousal probably had no business being in the room, but Tony had never claimed to be sane. Even if he was, sane that is, he couldn’t argue that the photographs of the man before him, both before and after the war, didn’t do him justice, because he was undeniably gorgeous.

Definitely larger and taller than Tony, he stood with a straight back and a relaxed posture, suggesting he was ready for anything. His eyes scanned the room for any potential threats before they swung back to Tony, who shivered at the unique colouring of his eyes, the blue reminiscent of the before, while the green with gold speckles indicated the after. His black hair was no longer matted, but clean. It had been pulled back into a neat ponytail, though a stubborn little curl had escaped its confines, teasing at the edge of his neck, highlighting the scruff on his face. Tony’s fingers itched to tuck it behind his ear, and felt his face heat at the thought, and cleared his throat noisily, “You’re taller than your records indicated.”

The man just stared at him, tilting his head, like Tony was a curiosity he hadn’t figured out.

Tony felt his blush increase, and resisted the urge to hit himself. He couldn’t believe that was his first sentence to the guy.

“I also gain physical mass too, the merger having altered my physique, though interestingly, it hasn’t negatively affected my abilities at all, if anything, they’ve increased. Though I half expected having to learn how to compensate for the differences.” His accent had a lingering layer of Russian, even if the American wasn’t quite as Brooklyn as Tony expected, the cultured speech suggesting an education that wouldn’t have been available to a poor boy in the 30s. Yet, even with that, his voice was like velvet, covered steel, roughened with disuse, but somehow still deep and smooth.

The smirk playing on the man’s lips made Tony’s mouth fall open. He just stared dumbly at it, blooming into a full smirk, as he set his bags on the ground, carefully setting the gun bag on top, and took a step towards him. The glint in the unusual colored eyes turned to one of satisfaction when Tony only stood there.

Blinking once, Tony drew in a shocking breath. When he opened them again, his space had been invaded by someone who was a virtual stranger, no matter their intertwined history, yet he still felt as familiar as one of his suits. Laoch regarded him with a look of reverence that Tony wasn’t sure he deserved. “Why me?”

The question was whispered between them, pulling a frown from Laoch, who raised a hand, fingers grazing Tony’s cheek lightly, “Why not you?”

“After everything I’ve done, I don’t deserve you,” Tony whispered, blinking the tears that stung his eyes. “But I want you anyway. Even if it feels selfish, given you spent decades willingly being tortured based on the idea I’d choose this too.”

“I’d do it again.” The response was prompt and immediate, with no ounce of hesitation.

The fingers were grazing Tony’s cheek, lowering slowly, flexing briefly before resting against his sternum, where the arc reactor had once sat. The flare of heat wasn’t painful. Nor was the echoing sensation of what felt like a thousand stingless bees hitting his skin. Yet through it all, Tony could feel the scarring on his chest ripple too. He gasped at the foreign feeling as it travelled up his chest, across his shoulder, and down his biceps, wrapping around it, the glow visible under the edge of his t-shirt.

Heart hammering in his chest, and more curious than terrified, Tony pulled the sleeve of the shirt up. Tears filled his eyes at the nine intersecting lines wrapping around his arm. Three straight lines: two borders, and a middle, with six crossing in an interwoven web, in an unending weave.

“What-” His voice cracked, and he blinked the tears away as he looked up at Laoch-James – he still didn’t know what to call him, “What does it mean?”

“It’s the Web of the Wyrd.” Was the rumbling response. A finger traced a path, reverent and soft, before pulling back, putting a bit of space between them. His eyes did not leave Tony’s as James pulled his own sleeve up, showing a matching mark. “It represents the interconnectedness of past, present, and future, as woven by the Norns, the Fates. It symbolizes the influence of choices on destiny and the binding nature of Wyrd. It’s not just what happens, but the underlying causal web of existence, connecting all things and determining events, even influencing the gods themselves.”

“That sounds remarkably romantic and restrictive at the same time,” Tony breathed, eyes tracing the lines, flicking up to meet the two coloured eyes, and whispered, “I don’t even know what to call you.”

“You can call me whatever you want, Antoshka.” A soft smile crossed the man’s face at the exasperated look Tony shot him. “Laoch or James, either is fine, though I think I’d prefer James; it feels safe with you.”

Heart beating rapidly, Tony tested the name on his lips, unable to stop himself from reaching up and tracing the lines with his fingers. Heat built in his gut at the tingle under the tips.

“It doesn’t lack free will,” James added softly. “The Wyrd is not necessarily a predetermined, unchangeable path. The way I understand it, and how it was explained, is that while the Norns weave the overall tapestry, individuals possess the ability to control the ‘quality of the thread’ they provide through their actions, courage, and honour.”

He paused, looking down at the intricate web etched into his skin, and for a moment, uncertainty flickered in his eyes. “Sometimes, believing that makes it easier to face what’s coming—it means no matter how tangled things get, there’s still a chance for something better. But other times… it scares me, knowing every choice and mistake truly matters. I keep hoping that means I can make things right, but I’m afraid of letting you down, or missing the chance to change things for good. That’s what keeps me up at night, and what gives me hope in the morning.”

He looked down at the marks winding around his arm and then back at Tony, the flicker of determination bright in his eyes. “It’s why I chose to come here—to fight for this future, for you, for Volya. Even if fate sets the shape of things, the choices I make, the promises I keep… those are mine. The Wyrd doesn’t excuse anything; it demands I make something worthy of what I’ve been given.” He hesitated, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. “I think about that every time I do something hard. When I held back or ran, it felt like the web closed tighter. When I stepped up, owned what I wanted, and chose love over fear—it changed everything. That’s all I can offer: a chance to spin something better from the threads.”

“Choice, and Consequence.” Tony whispered, “Do you regret any of it?”

“No.” James raised an eyebrow, arm flexing under Tony’s fingers. “To regret would be a betrayal of the promise made, and the lives we’ve lived. Here we get a chance at changing the future, for everyone.”

Tony blinked at the words. At the sentence. At the implication. “Time travel?”

James shook his head, “Not me, though an alternate you did, though it wasn’t you who did this.” He gestured to the matching mark on their arms, “that was my ancestors-”

“Loki,” Tony said simply.

“Yeah,” James agreed, tilting his head again, “Though I only knew him as Mr.Sataer, how did you-”

“Figure it out?” Tony asked, amusement pulling at his lips, though his eyes remained serious, “Our daughter is a remarkable individual, for all that she’s almost six years old.”

James tensed, not a lot, but enough for Tony to feel it. He licked his lips hesitantly, when James didn’t deny claiming her as his daughter, “Did you want to see her?”

It was easy to see how James had been the world’s greatest assassin, as the brief flicker of indecision disappeared behind a perfectly blank face, his retreat almost tactile, before he shook himself out of it, shoulders relaxing, “No, not- she would have just gone to sleep, right?”

“A couple of hours ago, yes,” Tony agreed, waving a hand expressively around the room. “But you are standing in the foremost technically savvy room in the world, I can pull up the security feed in her room.”

James frowned, though he chewed his lip, “Doesn’t she still sleep with her head buried in the blankets?”

Tony smiled, “She does, but I can pull her vitals too, Jor – her personal AI is always with her and watching, it’s his number one duty.”

“Please?” James whispered, fingers clenching briefly, though gently, around Tony’s arm. Pulling up the holographic screen that showed Volya’s room, and the burrioted form wrapped in blankets, only the end of an elastic from her hair showing. Wordlessly, Tony also pulled the vitals, which showed deep REM sleep, and compared them with those from previous weeks, finding the same steady rhythm. “Did you- would you like to see a current picture?”

“Yes.” James answered eagerly, though he didn’t stop staring at the screen, eyes glistening when J pulled the picture Tony had taken early that night as they sat with the Barton family playing the ‘Game of Life.’ Tony said nothing, happy to watch as James drank in the photograph, “I’m glad he made it back. Has he adjusted and healed from his captivity?”

Clint?” Tony clarified, shrugging even as he nodded, “Physically healed, yes, everything else? Every day is an improvement.”

“Good,” James stated, turning from the photograph to stare at Tony. “About Howard, do I owe you an apology?”

“Never!” Tony swore vehemently. “He got less than what you deserved, and better than he did.”

James’s stance seemed to exhale as he relaxed, and he blew out a breath, like he’d been holding it. A self-deprecatory smile appeared on his face, “I have so much I want to say, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Yeah…” Tony agreed breathlessly, voice stolen by a helpless laugh, “I’m supposed to be a genius, and I know we should talk, considering we don’t ‘actually’ know each other, but I really-really want to kiss you right now.”

Being the sole hyper focus of the super soldier assassin was dangerous to his health, and not because James could kill him easily – he knew he could and probably before Jarvis could react. No, this was in the way the man seemed to ooze seductiveness at Tony’s confession, causing his blood pressure to skyrocket. His heart missed a beat or three while stealing his breath at the same time. It was dizzying, and Tony swayed forward, hands coming up to clutch at the man in front of him, heat radiating off his skin, and inhaled the scent of icy pine, fur and citrus. It was intoxicating and made Tony want to burrow closer, leech some of the heat off, because ever since he ejected the modified version of Extremis, he always felt cold.

“Antoshka?” James’s amused voice drew Tony from his head. He blinked, looking up at the other man, only to have his eyes flutter closed again as James leaned down, pressing their lips together.

It was a revolution that shouldn’t have existed. Tony was forty-four years old, and James wasn’t the first guy he’d kissed, yet, for all that the kiss stayed sweet and chaste, it was also heartbreakingly clear that Tony had never had a kiss that mattered. When James raised his head, it was equally clear he must have thought the same, because his expression was devastatingly wrecked. Which definitely stroked Tony’s ego. The breath was pulled from him as James slid an arm around his waist and pulled him against his hard, lean body, claiming his lips like Tony was the drink of life in a desert of sand.

The second kiss was all-consuming. It involved teeth, tongue, countering the slow glide of James’s hands roaming over Tony’s body, never staying in one single area, but encompassing all of it. Tony was a passive participant for a full second. His first thought was that they had to take it slow: they didn’t know each other. The thought that followed ended in ‘fuck it’, even if he hadn’t known until recently – approximately seven months – Tony was all in. Talk about choice and consequence? Well, this was a choice he was making, and damn the consequences. He wanted James in any way he could get him, and if that was naked? He wasn’t objecting. Hands were already moving to pull the shirt hem tucked into the pants. Hands slid along the skin exposed as he angled his head to allow James more room to move down his neck, arching into him and grinding his aching cock against the thigh that slid between his legs. A groan rumbled from the larger man.

“Fuck, Tony.” James whispered against his neck, nipping at the skin behind his ear, hand sliding down to palm his ass, “I want you.”

“Totally on board with that, Snowflake,” Tony muttered back, his hands sliding down to the belt in his way, unbuckling it with jerking movements, “Lubes in the bottom drawer, but I don’t think I’ll make it that far, you touch me, I’m gonna go.”

James groaned again. Tightening his hold, one hand grabbing his ass, the other sliding around to cup the back of his neck, restricting Tony’s efforts at getting to the cock he could feel pressing against his stomach.

Tony whined and protested, shuddering as teeth scraped along his jaw. He felt the slightest bit of tension in the arm holding his ass, which caused a general swooping in his stomach, which only increased when James rumbled against his ear, “wrap your legs around me, sweetheart.”

“Jesus…” Tony’s breath hitched when James shifted, lifting him with one hand – the metal one – Tony thought deliriously, not arguing the logistics of the weapons he could feel, he wrapped his legs around his waist, arms sliding around James neck, a blush rushing to his face when he realized they were eye level.

“Just James is fine, Antoshka,” James whispered teasingly, rubbing his nose along Tony’s, and it was with that ridiculous action that Tony tumbled hard and fast into the realization he was in love with the man. Something which must have been on his face, because James’ expression softened, eyes crinkling at the corners as he repeated the action. A whisper-soft voice reached Tony’s ears. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

Tony swallowed the words, knowing no matter how real they were, it was definitely too soon for declarations of undying love. He slid his hands from the shoulders to James’s neck, bringing their lips back together, opening his mouth to the invasion of James’s tongue. It should have felt like an embarrassment, but at the same time, it felt like a record had been reached that it took so little to get him off. A bit of full-body contact, roaming hands, dirty, biting, slick kisses, and a hard cock pressed against his ass, with the smell of his soldier invading his senses, and the sounds James made in his throat, and Tony was gone, riding the high of his

orgasm, James follows him almost immediately.

Through it all, James’s strength never wavered, and when Tony opened his eyes, lifting his head from where it lay on James’s shoulder, he found the soldier looking at him with the same soft expression on his face, leaning against the desk.

“Hi,” Tony whispered, brushing their noses together. “I normally don’t do that, or at least I try not to do that anymore.”

“Hi,” James whispered back, a smile pulling at his lips. “I don’t either, but I still don’t regret anything.”

“Me either…” Tony confessed, accepting the kiss placed on the edge of his lips, and then, just because he was a little shit, he grinned mischievously, “Wanna join me in the shower?”

Tony could see the indecision cross James’s face. The argument ‘they needed to talk’ faded almost as soon as it appeared. Because all the soldier did was straighten from his relaxed state on the desk, letting Tony’s leg go, though he held on, keeping him close as he glanced around the workshop. “Can the room be locked down?”

“J?” Tony called out, pressing closer with a shudder of excitement. “I’ll initiate lockout protocols, Sir.”

Tony grinned at the response, grabbed James’s hand, and led him toward the elevator. Talking was overrated anyway; it could wait until tomorrow, and apparently, James agreed because as the elevator door slid shut, James was crowding him against the wall, kissing him hungrily again.

***

Tony was leaning against the counter the next morning, eyes closed, and totally, one hundred percent relaxed and sated. He was drinking his third cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would let him get through the day of meetings he had, not sure he could put them off.

“I can feel you smirking,” Tony muttered, without opening his eyes, stifling a yawn behind the back of his hand. He heard the double thump of duffel bags hitting the ground, a second before warm lips brushed the back of his neck, enveloping him in warmth from behind. He groaned lowly as James pressed against his ass, “stupid refractory period.”

“You didn’t complain last night.” James huffed against his neck, scrabbing the three-day stubble against his still sensitive skin.

“Last night I was delirious, and influenced by the soulbond,” Tony replied primly, though a smile played on his lips.

Snorting, James nipped at his skin before kissing it in apology, then stepped back, turning to lean against the island. The plating in his arm clicked as it recalibrated, as he grabbed the mug Tony had poured for him with the other. “What time does everyone normally get up?”

“Laura and Clint are probably already in the shower.” Tony replied, tipping his head back against James’s shoulder, “The kids don’t get up until seven.”

“Do you do a full breakfast?” James asked, with an odd hesitation in his tone, that finally made Tony open his eyes and glance up at him.

“Yes, I think it’s supposed to be French toast, unless you wanted something different,” Tony replied carefully.

“No, French toast is fine,” James chewed his bottom lip, glancing at the fridge, before nodding towards it, “May I?”

Heart twisting at the nervousness the assassin displayed, Tony slid his arm across the counter and squeezed James’s. “I know this is ‘new’, but I want this to be your home too.”

James released a slow breath and nodded, “And the estate?”

Tony blinked a little at the question and shot the camera a judgmental look before muttering, “I should have guessed the security features suggested were your doing.”

James shrugged, “I was bored, and Friday asked if I could look over the plans.”

“I appreciate it,” Tony assured, sliding his hand up to grip his elbow. “They were good suggestions, and were taken seriously. Fri can get you the updated schematics if you want, and maybe we can take a drive out and do a walk-through?”

“I’d like that,” James admitted, fingers twitching against the counter, before pushing off. Brushing a kiss against Tony’s temple, he moved towards the fridge with supple, sexual grace. In minutes, James had a plethora of ingredients out on the island, which meant Tony had to move around it to sink onto a stool and watch as his lover searched through doors and drawers, acquainting himself with the contents. After that, it was like watching art in motion, and Tony couldn’t help but stare, enthralled and coffee forgotten, as James moved around the kitchen like he’d been born to it, movements just as fluid and sensually as his murder-strut, and apparently just as effective. The sensual economy of movement had Tony shifting, trying to adjust himself. Yet even that was forgotten as James topped up his coffee with a fond, exasperated look, and the scent of sizzling bacon and eggs filled the air, along with the sweet smell of syrup.

“Tony?” Clint’s voice from the entrance to the kitchen drew his eyes from the vision in front of him, and he half turned to find Clint standing tensely in the doorway. His fingers twitching as if they wanted a bow, or really any sort of projectile, as he stared at the other figure, who hadn’t changed his posture, just continued flipping french toast, the stack starting to look ridiculous as it teetered dangerously, though never fell.

“Come on in, Legalos, meet our new resident.” Tony waved him in and pulled the archer into a one-arm hug. Clint quickly pulled out of the way when James growled low and threateningly, setting the flipper on the counter with a hard click. Tony frowned in confusion. Then, he felt a slow smirk cross his face as James’s face darkened into a flush, as he fiddled with the flipper, avoiding eye contact. Tony snorted, “You can’t possibly be jealous.”

James shrugged, clearly uncomfortable but seemingly resigned to his fate. “It’s not me, exactly.”

“It’s the other half?” Tony finished for him, ignoring the squawk from Clint beside him as he slid off his stool and moved around the counter, pressing right against James, letting the other man brush his nose in the crease of his neck, and felt the tension bleed from James’s body.

“Dios mío!” Laura’s exclamation from the door was followed by her muffled squeak of surprise, and Tony turned to stare at her, taking in the wide-eyed shock on her face.

“Blame the soul bond?” Tony offered, attempting to placate the woman still standing at the entrance, who was waiting for something Tony couldn’t figure out.

“You couldn’t have waited?” She demanded, shooting him a look of judgment, to which he shrugged helplessly.

“What? Look at him!” Tony exclaimed, gesturing to James’s lithe frame. “Can you honestly blame me?”

“Yes, I can!” Laura squeaked, then cleared her throat, looking annoyed with herself and shook her head, “Dad wasn’t kidding when he said you had presence. But Jesus Christ, I think he under-sold how much.”

At James expression of confusion, Tony squeezed his waist, beckoning the women into the kitchen, “Laura Barton, also known as X-23, Jimmy Logan Howelett’s technical clone, though for simplicity’s sake, his daughter, and her husband, Clinton Barton, alias is Hawkeye, though he prefers Clint. Guys,” He gestured to the super soldier beside him who had grabbed the flipper and moved back to the French toast, taking a second to remove and add more, and stir the bacon, “Laoch, or James Barnes.”

James turned back around, setting the flipper down, head tilting at an angle that automatically made Laura tilt her head to the side in a show of submission. James relaxed completely, offering his wrist in a silent ritual that only Laura seemed to understand. For she moved, rubbing hers against it and nudging Clint to do the same. Though the eyeroll he offered Tony spoke to his annoyance, Tony felt it was unfair because he didn’t understand exactly what was going on. Tony cleared his throat, “No more threatening growls?”

James huffed and swatted his ass, “Go, sit, converse, drink your coffee.”

“Yeah, okay. Could you be any more of a Neanderthal with your one-word grunts?” Tony grumbled, though he complied, pulling his coffee towards him with a happy little wiggle when James topped it up again.

“Canis Lupus, actually,” James responded dryly, “no relation to Neanderthals.”

Tony snorted and shook his head, “So that was what? Pack acceptance?”

“Yes?” James answered hesitantly with an odd tilt of his head and shrugged helplessly, “We’ve never really had a true pack, not in any lifetime, Tony, so maybe?”

That sounded infinitely sad to Tony, and he immediately felt horrible, but Laura spoke before he could, sounding uncharacteristically shy, “My dad said he had one with you…”

“He did?” James asked curiously, frowning a little as he resumed cooking, “That feels familiar, but a lot of the memories from before are spotty – no pun intended.” Not that his add-on helped, because Clint snorted a laugh, then made it worse by trying to take a drink and ended up inhaling it, making him choke, which earned him a mock glare from the assassin. “I think I like you better when I had to use Morse code to communicate with you.”

“I could still talk,” Clint defended around watery coughs. “In fact, pretty sure I was really chatty, not-Logan.”

James smiled briefly at the memory, before it faded as he turned to look between Laura and Clint, “Huh, maybe that is a pack bond, for some reason I felt like I knew you when I smelled you … but couldn’t have said how. I honestly thought it was delirium speaking.”

“Oh, it was probably both,” Clint acknowledged, “But I know Logan did something similar when I started dating Laura- kind of like a claim or something.” He shrugged, “I’ve never made it a priority to look up wolf habits, so this is all conjecture. Also, I hadn’t been fed in about four days at that point; if it’d been up to me to save myself, I wouldn’t have lived, especially in the harbour.” He paused and shuddered. “Which I still don’t recommend. That is one of the most disgusting places I’ve landed.”

“I’m not sure if that’s something to be bragged about, or terrified for,” Tony muttered into his coffee, “so what do we do next?”

Laura exchanged a glance with Clint and licked her lips hesitantly. “Far be it from me to be the logical one, but I think today, and the rest of the weekend, should be for you guys. Clint and I can take our kids out to that zoo thing, giving you guys the day with Volya, though I don’t recommend leaving the tower just yet.”

“I’d prefer not to, at least not into the city proper,” James admitted, failing to hide the little flinch at the mention of his daughter, and offered a small shrug. “I know people are looking for me, left over S.H.I.E.L.D. or Hydra agents, Steve….” He hesitated, the words catching. “Seeing Steve again… I keep thinking about what I would even say. There’s fear there—of what he’ll expect, of who he remembers me being, and who I am now. Part of me hopes maybe he’ll understand, but mostly I worry he can’t, or won’t want to.” James let the silence settle for a moment, his gaze dropping to the counter. “I’m just not ready to deal with any of them yet.”

“Isn’t Steve supposed to be your best friend?” Clint questioned curiously.

“Maybe, but can you really be friends with someone who doesn’t know exactly who you are?” James sighed, flipping the last piece of French Toast, “plus I’m not the same guy that fell from a train in the 40s. I wasn’t even meant to be on that train, but Cap ordered it, and it happened.”

Tony glanced at Clint, who was frowning, “What do you mean?”

A frown appeared on James’s face, “I have memories, they’re fragmented and disjointed, but… I could fight before all this; what Hydra did, didn’t change that, just enhanced what I already had. But I wasn’t designated for close-combat, I was a sniper – one of the best ones they had- probably still the best there is. But back then, my specialties were used for infiltration and spying. I was good at it, too, but I know I wasn’t supposed to be on that train. They’d already had rumblings about it, and the team had been set; it was supposed to be Steve, Jimmy, Dum-Dum, and Jacques. Gabe was supposed to be in communications with Fury and me.”

“Fury?” Clint repeated in confusion, looking at Tony, who shrugged. A Fury in the Commandos was news to him, and he grew up with them.

“Yeah, I think his first name was Nicholas. He originally led the commandos, but when Cap appeared on the scene and rescued us, he was given the lead.” James explained, making a face, “It was honestly a bit galling. I might not have wanted to be there, fighting another person’s war, but I earned my rank as Sergeant, and don’t get me wrong, I was damn glad to escape that hellhole.” His voice tightened. “Steve didn’t even pass basic, yet he got slapped with a title. Which he took to mean a rank he didn’t earn, and then he was given command of men who’d fought and bled with each other and expected everyone to cater to his whim. It was infuriating when higher-ups did, just because of the serum.”

“History tells us you volunteered,” Laura whispered, horrified.

“History also implies I was the love of Stevie’s life, which is hilarious given how homophobic he was at the time.” Snorting, James spread the bacon on a piece of paper towel. “As for the war? I was voluntold: prison or the army. The Familia doesn’t tolerate snitches, so I worked a deal to make it look like I volunteered to hide my involvement with the Mafia from Steve.”

Tony blinked at the information, mouth dropping open, “You ran for the mafia?”

James smirked, leaning against the counter. “Sweetheart, I was a non-blooded Soldato in the mafia, how else did you think I, and by association, Steve, survived the Depression?”

“I feel very confused.” Tony whispered, acknowledging Clint’s grunt of agreement with a smile, “Steve doesn’t know?”

“I was in the Mafia? Hell No! He’d never have agreed with what I was doing, even if it brought money home, and kept a roof over his head, and medicine he needed to live.” James pointed out, and sighed, expression twisting bitterly, “Looking back, though, with what memories I do have, I think he suspected something, because no one else should have known about that shipment, and the convenient stumble of law enforcement was too neat to be anything but a setup.”

“You think Steve set you up?” Tony asked, startled.

“No, I think he set Laoch up, because if there was one thing about Steve I do remember besides thinking he was in love with Bucky Barnes, while hating it, he absolutely loathed Laoch.” James heaved a sigh and shook his head, “None of that matters right now, just, I don’t want to see him yet. I know it’s coming, I know I’ll have to. I know we’ll have to talk, all of us, but for now, I just want to hug my daughter, and just…. I want to be myself without expectation.”

Tony couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. He slipped from the stool and slid around the counter, gripping James’s flesh hand where it rested on the counter. “We can put off a talk for the day, even the weekend.” He glanced at the Bartons and suggested carefully, “Maybe we could head out to the estate and do a walk-through? Let the kids burn off excess energy?”

Laura nodded cautiously, “Would you be alright if I invited my father?”

Regret and grief appeared on James’s face, and he drew in a shuddering breath, “I- I barely remember him. Are you sure he even wants to see me again?”

“You mean once he regained his own lost memories?” Laura asked and nodded, “he does, yes.”

At that, James glanced at her sharply, “lost memories?”

Laura hesitated, then nodded. “I think it’s best you two have that full conversation, but yes, he lost his memories and has only just begun getting them back.” She offered a small shrug, “Volya helped with that, I think. She found them in 2012, and clung to him, saying he smelt like you.”

“Oh…I never-” James began, the blurted, “I was terrified Hydra had found her and was hiding they had her, that she found safety…” The breath he blew out sounded loud, and he looked down at the counter, “I’ll meet him, even if it’s just to thank him for my daughter’s life.”

Nodding, Laura pulled out her phone and shot off a text, “Okay, unless anything else needs to be discussed that can’t wait, let’s get breakfast finished, because the horde will be awake soon.”

Tony squeezed James’s hand, earning a press of his shoulder against his own, before James swallowed, “Besides a place to store my weapons, we’ll need a sealed containment for something I liberated from Hydra’s clutches.”

“Oh?” Tony asked curiously, trying to remember what it could possibly be, not having noticed anything when James had arrived last night, though remembering how he had asked if the lab could be locked down.

“Yeah, I-uh….” James scratched the back of his neck, “I infiltrated a Hydra base and stole the sceptre used in the New York invasion.” He grabbed Tony’s elbow to prevent him from moving, not that Tony tried. He was too busy trying to figure out how he’d forgotten that Hydra had been the ones to pick it up originally. “You aren’t inspecting it or anything without me. It can’t affect me, but I’m unsure about the rest of you, and given what I saw…to be safe, please don’t go near it.” His voice grew hard. “If anyone else tries to handle it, or even gets too close for long, it could take over their mind or worse—turn them against everyone here. It manipulates, twists thoughts, and preys on your doubts. No one is safe from it. If you see anyone around the artifact, tell Tony or me immediately. This thing nearly broke a god. I won’t risk it happening in our home.”

“No, that’s fine, Snowflake, I remember it.” Tony shared a look with Clint, who looked decidedly green. “We both do, and neither of us has pleasant memories.”

“I imagine,” James agreed, “but it’s one part of a five-piece set, though there is an alter consciousness suppressing another, and the first one is pissed it couldn’t influence me.” His expression soured. “I believe that it was the alter that was used to influence and subjugate you and even Loki initially.”

He glanced at the others, lips tight. “The artifact isn’t just an object; inside, it holds a sentient force—or maybe more than one. The primary consciousness tries to dominate the will of anyone who handles it, digging into any anger or doubt and twisting it further. But at the same time, there’s another presence trapped under the surface, quieter, almost like a warning trying to push through. Most people end up caught in the conflict, their minds pulled in different directions.”

James’s voice turned almost clinical. “For me, the connection with Fenrir and the fact that my soul is now knotted into something older and wilder makes me immune. The artifact can’t get a grip—Fenrir’s presence blocks its influence entirely. It tries, but all it finds is a closed door.”

“If it can affect a god, why doesn’t it affect you?” Clint asked, and if there was a hint of suspicion in his tone, James didn’t call him on it, his smile turning predatory, and he tilted his head to consider the question.

“I think you’re the type that gets more enjoyment out of figuring out the answer instead of being told, so… rest assured, this is nothing on Earth that can contain or imprison me again, now that Fen’s awake.” James rubbed his thumb over the inside of Tony’s elbow, hiding his amusement as Clint sputtered wordlessly, then stiffened, inhaling sharply.

“What- oh…” Tony started and then stopped as he heard the familiar but hurried pitter-patter of feet coming down the hall. A second later, two extra sets followed the first, and he leaned his head against James’s shoulder briefly, before giving him an encouraging smile, nudging him from around the counter as a startled gasp echoed around the corner.

“Daddy?” Volya’s voice was filled with tears, which brought an answering sting to Tony’s eyes that he couldn’t fight. She flew across the room, slamming into James as he went to his knees, a mournful sound emerging from his throat.

Tony swallowed thickly, watching as Clint and Laura quickly finished their kids’ plates and quietly ushered them from the room, setting them up at the coffee table in the living room.

It felt like such a private moment. Tony started to slide from behind the counter, but James’s hand reached out and snagged him. “Stay, please?”

Tony swallowed, “Are you sure?”

Huffing, James shifted to sit on his butt, Volya clinging tighter, burrowing against his chest, as James admitted, “You’re both of ours; we want you to stay.”

For a breathless moment, Tony could only stare at them—this family he had almost lost before it truly began. Volya’s small voice trembled in the space between them as she whispered, “I missed you so much, Daddy. I wished for this every night.” Tony swallowed hard, his own voice rough. “Me too, kiddo. This is all I ever wanted.” For the first time in so long, hope and belonging settled deep in his bones.

Hearing someone admit they wanted him to stay felt like a supernova. Tony conceded without fighting it. With a choked sob, he slid from the chair and was engulfed in the embrace. A small arm tucked securely around the pair of them. James pressed his face into the crease of his neck. When he felt tears dampen his skin, he didn’t say anything, just shifted his head closer to James’s and pressed a kiss to Volya’s, regardless of how much time passed.

***

Chapter Ten

Tony didn’t know how long they sat cuddled on the floor. The feel of the plush rug pressed beneath him grounded Tony, its soft fibres catching against his palms as Volya’s warmth pressed into his side. The faint smell of coffee and toast lingered in the air from the Bartons’ breakfast, mixed now with the barely-there, sweet scent of Volya’s strawberry shampoo. Somewhere down the hall, distant laughter and clattering dishes from the kitchen signalled the Barton family moving on with their day, and then fading entirely, leaving behind a deep, settling quiet that seemed to wrap around the three of them. That left the three of them alone, making it his job to feed the two Barneses and get them off his floor. He managed, after a fashion. Volya stayed silent and clinging, her small hands knotted into her father’s shirt, never letting go of her father. She pressed her forehead into James’s side, face half-hidden, and tried to slow her jittery breaths. She wanted to say something but every word stuck in her throat, tumbling behind a wall of exhaustion and leftover fear. In her small, anxious mind, she kept thinking if she let go, she might wake up and find him gone again—and she hated that thought almost as much as she hated the feeling of being scared. It was heartbreaking and endearing, especially when she pulled Tony into their embrace on the couch. The couch cushions creaked slightly beneath their combined weight. The animated light from Brave flickered on the wall, the movie’s soundtrack a gentle hum in the background; Volya’s favourite Disney Princess filled the room with comforting colour and familiar voices. As the movie went on, she began to speak, offering brief commentary and expanding when James asked questions. She grew more animated. By lunch, the savoury aroma of grilled cheese and tomato soup hinted at the simple meal Tony had thrown together. Volya was chattering about everything she’d been up to since they were separated, her voice rising and falling brightly, fingers tracing lazy patterns over the stuffed wolf’s coarse fur. Still, between words, she watched James out of the corner of her eye, checking he was real and safe and not fading away. Soon, her words slowed, and yawns took over. Tony convinced her with a look to lie down, her head resting on a cool, smooth pillow against her cheek. One hand clung to her father’s, the other to the wolf in her arm. Her eyes slid shut, only to jerk open and search for her father before closing again. After fifteen minutes without movement, as the gentle weight of her breathing deepened, Tony finally relaxed and almost drifted off on his own until James moved.

Eyes sliding open, Tony sent him a weak glare and whispered, careful not to wake the sleeping landmine, “Where are you going?”

James rolled his eyes and stretched his back, relief evident as it popped audibly. Tony glared at him in mock irritation. “Well, I didn’t think I was gonna gain access to the workshop without you, so I was gonna hit the head, if that’s okay?”

Feeling a blush climb his cheeks, Tony closed his eyes again and jerked a nod, eyes flying open again when cool metal fingers traced his jaw, a second before lips pressed against his forehead.

“Get a nap, love, we’ll be fine until the others come back.”

“Sure?” Tony mumbled, eyes already slipping shut, curling under the blanket that was snapped over his prone form and knew nothing more.

The scent of food in the living room, mixed with laughter and kitchen clattering, roused Tony from sleep. He noticed immediately how the atmosphere had shifted—the sun was setting, painting the sky red and gold, and at the other end of the couch, the duo whispered to each other, curled together. The earlier sense of peace was laced with something more fragile; Tony sensed hesitation in their whispers and posture. As Tony tried to move, a hand squeezed his ankle gently, wordlessly reminding him to stay still. Tony decided to keep his eyes closed, wanting not to disrupt the delicate calm but sensing undercurrents from their body language and whispers.

“Papa’s not mad at me, is he?” Volya asked in a whisper.

James questioned gently, “Why would you think he’s mad?”

Cracking his eyelids open, Tony glanced toward Volya. She had her head down, fingers playing with the stuffed wolf’s paw. “I’ve kind of ignored him all day,” she said, voice small. “I didn’t mean to, but I was afraid you’d disappear again.”

James answered carefully, running one hand through Volya’s hair and keeping the other on Tony’s ankle. “Well, I can safely say I have no plans to disappear again. And I’m pretty sure Tony understands your fears, and isn’t mad at you for ignoring him.”

“Not even if the bad men come back?” Volya whispered, pressing her face to her father’s chest.

“Even if they come back,” James promised, brushing her hair back, “Fenrir is fully awake, sweetheart; no one can imprison me again.”

“Because Gleipnir isn’t on Earth?” Volya asked, her voice openly curious in the way only a five-year-old could manage, but Tony felt the hand tighten on his ankle and knew James still feared an Asgardian god might bring it here.

“That’s part of it, yes,” James agreed, “but keep in mind what isn’t known to mortals is that I have to be willing to submit to the chain, and I’m not.”

“You do?” Tony blurted, sitting up in a rush, cycling through what he knew of Norse Mythology. “That’s—that’s, really?”

James snorted and shook his head. “It was part of the trick to get me to wear it originally. Yes, Tyr offered his hand as a sacrifice, but it only worked as I was willing to bow my head for them to loop it on.”

“Huh…” Tony blinked, looking to Volya in confusion, then shook his head, holding out his arms to Volya, who was eyeing him and chewing her bottom lip, “Come here, Mia Bella.”

Glancing at her father under her lashes, Volya quickly scrambled over James’s lap, landing in Tony’s with a little ‘umpf’. She wrapped her arms around Tony’s middle and buried her head in his stomach. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

Tony kissed her head, brushing back her hair. “No need to apologize. I miss my mother every day. Missing your dad doesn’t mean you love me less; you just needed reassurance.”

“I don’t remember my mamma; she passed away while I was still a baby.” Volya whispered sadly, “Though I have fuzzy memories of Uncle Luca, he had glowing purple eyes.”

Not sure what to say, Tony glanced at James and caught his expression. The sadness on James’s face told Tony he felt the emotional weight of the conversation. Unexpectedly, the sorrow did not tip into open grief—what Tony anticipated. Instead, James displayed a controlled, quiet sorrow, holding back deeper feelings, which shifted the conversation’s emotional texture from rawness to careful acceptance.

“Her name was Lapis, for her eyes, and she was a Seer and shapeshifter,” James said slowly, voice soft. “She loved to cook, wore scarves and beading in her black hair, and was genuinely the happiest person I knew. She had this ability to make anyone laugh, often at their own folly, but never made anyone feel she was laughing at them.”

Volya confessed, “I try to do that. I wouldn’t want someone to feel bad if I laughed at them. What did she change into?”

“Your mother was one of the last Oracles of Delphi, but refused to accept the title of Pythia, saying she hadn’t earned it,” James explained. “Do you know why they had that title?”

Volya frowned. “Isn’t it derived from the English word Python?”

James inclined his head, “So what animal could she turn into?”

Volya’s mismatched eyes widened. “A snake?”

James nodded. “Yes, you get your heritage from two sides, mine and your mother’s. She knew what you would be, but in order to have you, she needed to find me, and sent her brother, Luca, to bring me in.”

James sighed softly, “I was honestly suspicious. Your uncle might have been no match for me, for all that he has Psionic abilities, your mother, Lapis, named for her eyes, terrified me. She knew things about me that made no sense, even looking back with my mind unscrambled. Yet she was insistent and honest, admitting she didn’t love me, couldn’t love me as I deserved, but that she could give me you. She believed our union was necessary, not for love, but because the prophecy spoke of a child who could bridge two lineages—the Norse and the Greek—and balance the gifts and burdens of both. Your mother wanted to ensure her gifts did not end with her; she felt it was her duty to bring a child into the world who would inherit both sight and strength, a protector but also a guide for those yet to come. Another Snake in the Grass, because that is what you are, malen’kiy(little one).”

Volya’s voice was full of confusion as her eyes fluttered shut. “But I’m a wolf like you, how am I both? I don’t see it, Daddy.”

Tony suggested softly, “Maybe you’re not meant to see it yet? Snakes are associated with foresight, healing, and rebirth. It could be that part of you doesn’t want you burdened by what it knows.”

Volya’s eyes fluttered open, grief filling them. “Snakes are associated with death, too.”

“So am I, Mia Bella.” Tony whispered, “Even more than your dad.”

Volya protested heatedly, “But that wasn’t either of your faults; other people did it in your name.”

Tony countered gently. “But our hands are still responsible, our fault or not. While I know it’s not the gun’s fault for doing what it’s aimed to do, it is my responsibility for making the gun.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Long before you were born, I inherited a company that made its money in arms dealing, creating and selling the best of weapons. I continued that legacy. I thought I was creating and selling to keep people safe from our enemies. The people I trusted sold weapons to those same enemies, forcing me to make bigger, better weapons. It was a vicious, bloody cycle. One that I should have investigated personally instead of leaving it to others.”

Volya insisted, “That’s why you stopped making weapons, Papa!”

Tony eyed James, who had remained silent but watchful the entire conversation. “Did I? Do I not make bows and arrows for Clint? Do I not make guns and rifles? Have I not made a better arm for your father? Do I not keep Uncle Rhodey safe in his War Machine suit? I’m Iron Man, sweetheart, and if there’s a bigger, more dangerous weapon than that, I haven’t met it.”

“But you-you fight to protect people,” she whispered, knuckling her eyes, making Tony’s heart twist at being the cause of her tears.

“I do, so you don’t have to. I want you to be a little girl for as long as possible before it’s your turn. If you choose to fight, because while wolves and snakes fight, they fight to protect, not because they enjoy it.” He finished, and silence fell. It wasn’t uncomfortable; Tony could tell they were each thinking about his words. His mind had already moved on to thoughts about James’s ancestry. Volya’s mother in the mix sent a shiver of dread through him. He knew he’d have to question James about the Sceptre. He had a sinking suspicion—Volya might be the key to removing the alternate consciousness.

Tony was both suspicious and a genius, and he knew his mythology. Fenrir and Jörmungandr were both children of Loki in Norse legend: Fenrir, the great wolf fated to break his chains at the end of the world, and Jörmungandr, the world-serpent, destined to bring destruction but also rebirth. The Pythia, in Greek myth, served as the Oracle of Delphi, a seer and voice of prophecy, channelling the wisdom of the gods. If the High Priestess of Pythia had sought out a great-grandson of Loki, it would have connected two ancient bloodlines: one from those who shape fate and chaos, another from those who see—and sometimes alter—destiny itself. For Tony, it stood to reason that a child of James, if he were merged with Fenrir’s soul, could also be the reborn soul of Jörmungandr: a living bridge between prophecy and mythic power. Snake in the Grass, indeed.

***

Standing on the lawn near the back doors of the manor, James shifted from foot to foot, watching the aircraft fly towards them, his hand flexing at his side.

“You know it’ll be okay, right?” Tony asked, sliding to stand beside him.

“No, I don’t,” James admitted, rubbing his face with one hand, “I feel more nervous over this than I did meeting you face to face.”

“Eh, I think that’s the emotional connotation and connection you had in the past with Logan.” Tony shrugged, leaning against him, “I imagine it would be strange meeting a person you slept with decades before and not remember.”

“Why the hell would you say that?” James groaned, throwing a glare at him, “Now it’s all I can think of, and I don’t even remember what he looks like.”

Tony smiled sunnily and asked, “Got you to think of something else, didn’t I?”

“Tony,” James warned, breath catching as the aircraft descended from the sky.

“What? Personally, the idea of you and Logan is hot, and I’ll admit, my fifteen-year-old self would have been insanely jealous if I’d had an inkling that was possible.” Tony admitted airily, and then hummed in thought. “Honestly, if I think about it, I might have had dreams about it recently, and damn… yeah, that vision doesn’t get any worse.”

“It’s worse for me,” Laura muttered as she stepped off the patio, strolling towards them. “That is my dad you’re envisioning-” She frowned and pointed at Tony. “Don’t even finish that thought, not where I can hear you.”

“But you have ears like a bat!” Tony complained with a pout, “You’ll hear me anywhere I am.”

“Remember that,” Laura threatened, crossing her arms, “I don’t need to hear anything you do, envision, or say if it has to do with my father and super soldier here.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony muttered under his breath, but didn’t give voice to what he had envisioned, and James wasn’t sure whether he was thankful for that or not, but turned to look at Laura. “How many people are coming?”

“It’s supposed to be just my father and his girlfriend,” Laura explained, and then shrugged a bit helplessly, “Charles is fairly good at reining the others in, but if enough of them argue, dad may have given in, just to keep the peace.”

“Any I need to watch out for?” James asked, arms flexing, plates clicking as it recalibrated. “Only one that may be an issue, but she has issues with everyone; her name is Jean Grey. Her primary powers are telepathic and telekinetic abilities, extremely powerful, but she does have and follows the ethnic codes of the X-Men.”

“Red Mist?” James asked curiously, and that clarified at her blank look, “Her powers, do they come with an associated red mist?”

“Yeah,” Laura frowned, “Now that you point it out, how did you-”

“It’s called Chaos Magic,” James explained, and cracked his neck, “I’m familiar with it, though they only used it on me once, and grew to regret it.”

“Normally, she’s alright, calm and steady, has a thing for my dad, but likes to play men against each other for her affections.” Laura offered with a hint of bitterness in her tone, “She hated it when I was found, as it diverted his attention. Now, well, she does not agree with how Dad assumed ‘custody’ of Volya, didn’t think it appropriate for a male to take care of a little girl, and while she made no inappropriate remarks or comments, she had a strict sense of impropriety over Volya’s age and feels she should be kept uninformed and sheltered to a huge degree. She never said anything, but she absolutely loathed that Tony legally claimed custody and created an identity for Volya.”

“An in to keep Logan’s attention?” Tony speculated dryly.

Laura shrugged, “I go by what my physical senses tell me. I can’t tell you what she thinks, just how her body reacts.”

Inclining his head, James twined his fingers with Tony’s, who had his head tilted, eyes glowing blue, and hid them a second later by slipping on a pair of sunglasses.

“The second one isn’t so much a problem in terms of confrontation; it’s that Peter’s convinced he’s a joker, and uses his speed to pull off pranks.” Tony added as an afterthought, “Personally, I have no problems with him, but it can be dizzying trying to deal with him. He never sits still.”

“Same could be said of you, Antonska,” James muttered, and fell silent, attention turned inward, and turned to Laura, “You said that Jean Grey follows the ethical codes of the X-Men, does Peter?”

“Yes. Why?” Laura confirmed and asked, her body tensing as if sensing danger.

“Because I know of a pair of twins with powers similar to what you’re describing, and I know they work voluntarily for Hydra.” James offered with a frown, “At first I assumed they might be the same people, but you said Jean didn’t like you when you were found, that was when ‘91?”

“Yesss…” It was drawn out, and she turned to look at him fully, eyes widening in shock, “It was-It was you!”

It wasn’t a question, more of a statement, really, but James nodded anyway, “Handlers weren’t always careful about what they talked in front of me about, and spent an entire day bragging about being able to slip under government and S.H.I.E.L.D., moving the facility. I’m just thankful I was about to do something about it.”

“How did you do it?” Laura asked, a little breathless.

James grimaced and shot a look at Tony, who looked back at him, expression confused, and offered a shrug, which made him sigh, “After a triggering of Laoch, and the completion of a self-serving mission, I left a note on then Director Peggy’s desk with the coordinates of the facility.”

Laura just stared at him for a long minute, ignoring the jet as it landed before jumping on James and hugging him tight around the neck, her breath hitching, “thank-you, thank-you for rescuing us.”

James tensed again, before relaxing, slipping his flesh arm around her to hug her back, “I don’t deserve all the credit, malen’kiy volk (little wolf).”

“I think in this case you do,” Laura protested, pulling back to look at him, “you might not have been an active hand in breaching the facility, it was your intel that allowed it and made it possible.”

James made a face, but didn’t argue, and shrugged, “It was the right thing to do.”

“Which is what makes it remarkable,” Tony said softly, taking possession of James’s hand again, “You spent decades protecting me, suffering untold levels of pain, and in the midst of that, you still managed to thumb your nose at the organization that tried to subjugate you by removing one of their asset facilities – which sidenote? Total nightmare scenario there. No offence.”

Laura left out a watery laugh and stepped back, “None taken, because I think I know the twins you’re talking about. They went missing between the facilities just before we were rescued, but it was like the trainers and all of them just ‘conveniently’ forgot the twins existed.”

“Friday?” Tony said, glancing between the two of them. “Go through the info you have, and find any references to-” he raised an eyebrow, and gestured leadingly, making James shrug.

“I only know codenames, Tony. But they went by Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver.”

“Son of a bitch,” Laura swore loudly, earning looks from the group that emerged from the jet, “Their last name is Maxiomoff, the girl is Wanda, the boy is Pietro.”

Tony snorted in amusement and shook his head, “It would be disappointing if it weren’t so amusing, but it’s like Hydra doesn’t even try anymore.”

Confused, James looked between them, “What?’ “Because Peter’s last name is Maxiomoff, and his codename is Quicksilver too,” Laura explained with a sigh, finally turning her attention to the group, one much larger than expected, and frowned, “Excuse me.”

James nodded distractedly, stepping closer to Tony, “thank-you.”

Blinking, Tony looked up, “For what?”

James shook his head, leaning down to kiss him, “because you deserve to be thanked, my love.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” Tony protested in complete bafflement, though he didn’t protest the second kiss.

“Next time you want to distract me,” James began, rubbing their noses together, “just kiss me.”

Tony blinked, then broke into a wide grin, which turned into a bark of laughter, “Oh yeah, I was trying to do that, wasn’t I?” He shrugged, “Not exactly the plan.” He grinned mischievously. “But it worked?”

James snorted, pressing a kiss to his lips again, inhaling his scent and catching the smell of someone else that made him freeze.

It was only Tony gently squeezing his hand and his reassuring whisper that made him open his eyes and turn to find a man who had been haunting his memories, on and off, for decades, with no context for it, though his name came on the next breath: “Jimmy?”

“I prefer Logan these days,” the man confessed, and offered a shrug, hands stuffed inside his leather jacket and blew out a breath, “fuck, it’s good to see you, Jamie.”

James’s breath caught at the name. He let go of Tony’s hand and took a step forward, pausing when two of the people behind Jim-Logan stiffened. Involuntarily, he took a step back. Logan shifted his body, drawing James’s attention, “Don’t worry about them, they’re friendlies.”

Swallowing, James darted a glance at them once again, only relaxing again when Tony touched his back, echoing Logan’s words that he dismissed them, finishing his forward stroll and wrapping Logan in a hug. One that felt foreign but like coming home at the same time. It was disorienting and dizzying, but it was only when his knees hit the ground that he realized that Logan had controlled the collapse, hugging him back, tears wetting his neck. “Fuck, I never expected to see you again.”

Laughing wetly, James pulled back, brushing the tears from his own face away with an impatient gesture, “Why’d you leave without a note?”

Logan’s face fell. “I don’t remember what it said, but I left a note, Jamie.”

“What?” James closed his eyes, leaning his forehead on Logan’s shoulder, “Steve?”

Logan shrugged, jaw tightening involuntarily, jostling James’s. “I assume. I wasn’t given much time to pack. As soon as they sent you out, I was called into the command tent, given my orders and a two-hour window to pack and catch the next flight out.” He lay his head on James’s, “I tried arguing, even mentioning the next mission – the train heist, and Howard interrupted, smug as shit, saying, ‘I should be a good little soldier so as not to make issues for you, Captain America’s best friend.”

“Fuck…” James shuddered, “I knew something was wrong walking into the forward camp, but no one would meet my eyes or tell me what was going on. When I found out you disappeared, I half expected them to come for me; instead, Stevie ordered me onto the train.” He swallowed, glancing at Tony over Logan’s shoulder, who was already looking at him, expression soft and understanding, “I can’t regret the choice I made, but fuck am I sorry for what you must have suffered.”

“I don’t blame you, Jamie.” Logan cupped the back of his neck and met his eyes, “There are two people I blame for what happened, and you were never one of them, not even when you were a hazy memory in a forgotten life. You offered grounding and freedom in a world gone mad, and I will forever be grateful you were there.”

“I didn’t do it for gratitude.” James whispered, admitting softly, “I just- you understood me, when I didn’t understand myself. I hadn’t been merged with Fen for even a year when we met, and we were both so disoriented and confused. I had these instincts I couldn’t explain, or know what to do with. You gave us this calm that allowed us to focus, even before we became something more.”

“I know.” Logan responded, squeezing gently, “and I think I understood that then, too. We created a bond. A pack of two, and while I don’t pretend to understand it, we kept that bond even through all the trauma. You saved my daughter, and then I saved yours, because that’s what family does, we protect each other.”

“Amen.” Tony said, coming to stand beside them, offering a ruffled smile and a shrug, “I drew the short straw in breaking up your reunion, but only because we have an impatient little girl who would like her cake, sooner rather than later.”

“And I’ve been accused of spoiling her,” Logan muttered dryly, but rose to his feet, offering a hand to James, “We already had her birthday, she doesn’t need more cake.”

Snorting, Tony ignored the first part of that sentence. “It’s a welcome home celebration for her father, and technically, no one needs an excuse for cake.”

James cocked his head to the side, “What date did you celebrate her birthday on?”

“November 1 is the day we picked, but we combined it with a Halloween party.” Tony shivered as he turned up the collar of his jacket, stepping into James’s embrace when the other man offered up the space, turning them towards the patio doors.

“It was a good guess; she was born between the 13th and 15th of November, but being a home birth, I couldn’t guarantee the actual day, as Madipoor was in a blackout mode,” James explained. “Should we change it?” Tony asked, brow furrowing.

“Eh… I don’t know that it would matter,” Logan said, “most schools have their cutoff at the end of December, so she wouldn’t miss out on much.”

“Let’s leave it for now,” James advised, “I think we’ll have enough on our hands to be worried over 15 days.”

“Yeah, okay.” Tony agreed, leaning into James as they walked across the lawn, but then stopped, snagging Logan’s wrist too, and tilted his head to look up at James, “I just thought of something, and I know this isn’t really my business, but you’ve both mentioned things about Roger’s that got me thinking.” He looked from one to the other. “Do either of you remember if you started your thing before or after he got there?”

James shook his head, baffled, “My memories….” He trailed off and swallowed, “I think it was before, but with everything that happened after, it kind of rolls into one.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Logan stated, and frowned in concentration, “I got memories of him stalking us, always watching silently and judgmentally, but was always asking questions of the other, that’s for sure, and writing shit down.”

“That was because he was being tasked with reporting on Barnes’s enhancements post-rescue,” Tony muttered, and then flushed a bit at just blurting that out, “sorry that was insensitive, he’s your -”

“Hey, we already went over this. It’s fine.” James said, squeezing Tony’s hand, “I am not surprised they were monitoring me, but why are you asking about the timing?”

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted slowly and started walking again. “I think I’m trying to psychoanalyze Steve Rogers, which is admittedly probably a bad idea. It’s a squishy science, and we don’t mix very well.” He shrugged helplessly, “It’s just- something isn’t adding up in his behaviour or his actions, and it bugs me.”

James frowned as he glanced at Tony, “Do you want to talk it out?”

Tony bit his lip and shook his head, “Not yet, I still have to work on it, and I don’t want to disrupt Volya’s day.”

“You realize she’s going to have another day here very soon, as it’s almost Christmas.” Logan pointed out, and Tony grinned.

“I know, I can’t wait either.”

James could only roll his eyes and follow the pair into the house; it was one reunion he didn’t regret having.

***

At one point in Tony’s life, one-night stands were all he knew, except the short-lived thing he’d had with Pepper, and he had no problem with it. The only expectation he had to live up to was his reputation for making it enjoyable, and if in recent years he hadn’t felt anything except a moderate amount of relief, then he kept it to himself. No one, least of all the media, needed to know that he no longer found enjoyment in being the ‘playboy’. They would never have believed he wanted something real and honest; it would have been a foreign, easily argued myth that Tony Stark could be anything but what his reputation left him.

It’s why he hadn’t been surprised by S.H.I.E.L.D. ‘s actions toward him or by Natasha’s psych-eval, which listed him as ‘not recommended’. No one knew the real him. He had learnt at a young age not to show that to anyone. Therefore, he could honestly say that having James’ entire focus was a dream come true. There should have been some hesitation about falling into bed with a virtual stranger, and staying, instead of crawling out of it as soon as they were done and treating it as a one-night stand, but with James, it was as natural as breathing.

Reaching up, Tony curled his hand into James’s hair, pulling him closer as he opened his mouth, tongue dipping out to tease at James’s lips. A groan pulled from his throat at the ease with which the assassin opened to him, giving him free access.

Pulling back from the kiss, Tony gazed at James, breath already heavy, and skin tingling with anticipation, “James… Fuck we should probably talk.”

“Probably,” James agreed, though his hands continued skimming Tony’s body, the contrast between the metal and flesh arm caused goose bumps, “it would be the responsible thing to do.”

A breathless laugh escaped from Tony as he leaned into the caress, shifting his weight from where he straddled the supersoldier, unconsciously rolling his hips against the delicious length under his ass.

Hands gripped his butt, stopping his movements, and he blinked open his eyes, meeting amused mismatched eyes, “sweetheart, that’s not going to lead to us talking.”

“No, it’s not,” Tony whispered, leaning forward to claim a kiss that was readily returned, and then stolen when James took control of it, one degree shy of being dominating as he used his teeth and tongue to pull another moan from Tony, that turned into a whimper of protest when James raised his head. “This isn’t natural.”

“Yes, it is,” James countered with a laugh, “I can’t say it’s deprived, but it’s been a partial bond for decades, Antoska; it’s encouraging the closeness, like a recharging effect.” He paused, pulling Tony closer, nuzzling his neck. “Fen’s not helping, but that’s the wolf aspect as they mate for life.”

Tony let himself lean into the embrace, feeling the bond thrumming beneath his skin. It was overwhelming in a way he hadn’t expected. The sensation brought comfort and a touch of fear, the wild certainty that came with knowing someone saw all of him and still wanted to stay. Tony’s heart hammered with the desperate intensity of it, equal parts anchored and exposed, but there was solace here too: the realization that for the first time in years, he didn’t have to keep any pieces of himself hidden.

Tony tipped his head back, exposing his neck completely, “Fuck.”

“You can fuck on your own time.” Clint’s voice came from the hallway leading to the bedrooms, making Tony groan and drop his head to James’s shoulder, who chuckled, cupped his ass, pulling him closer and kissed his cheek.

“Come on, love.” James whispered, “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Fine.” Tony pouted but climbed off James’s lap, slumped in the seat beside him, and turned to face Clint and Laura, who sat on the couch opposite them. “So what did you want to discuss?”

“The sceptre, and what it actually is,” James replied, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Laura slipped her hand into Clint’s and glanced between Tony and her husband, “Isn’t it just a sceptre, one that was used to mind-control you?”

Tony shrugged, echoed a moment later by Clint, though it was Tony who answered, “We thought so, but I wasn’t given a chance to do any real testing on it after the Loki thing, though I think I still have the scans.”

“It was, and I only have a skewed perspective of its influence, leaving me to remember everything I did.” Clint whispered, dropping his eyes to the floor, “But it was invasive, insidious, and envious.”

“Envious?” James questioned, curious. He paused, then slowly nodded, “Actually, yeah, that would make sense. The ultra-conscious that is suppressing the other is envious… Of what I’m not actually sure, but in visions from what I think was the real consciousness of the mind stone-”

“Mind Stone?” Tony interrupted and shrugged when James raised an eyebrow at him. “You said that before.”

“I did, but at the risk of repeating myself. The mind stone showed me glimpses of an alternate future we all lived.” James finished, and sighed, “I don’t know if the glimpses were in a chronological order, but in that universe, during an investigation of the Sceptre, the alter consciousness, infiltrated Jarvis’s server and stole a program named ‘Ultron’.”

“I scrapped that project.” Tony protested, glancing up at the camera, “J, I scrapped that, right?”

“Unfortunately, Sir, you have not; you put it in the discard pile, but in my experience, you have a habit of going on a binge and going back to old projects.” Jarvis replied, in a neutral tone, “Would you like me to delete it?”

“Damn right I do.” Tony snapped and glanced at James worriedly. “That’s what I should do, right?”

“It was an AI bent on world domination.” James admitted, shrugging softly, “You defeated it, but there were already fractures in the Avengers at the time, not helped by the appearance of the Maximoff twins.”

“Is that why the X-Men went searching for them?” Tony asked curiously.

James inclined his head. “They would be the best ones equipped to deal with them. They have the protection to prevent mental intrusions, which none of you had then.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair.” Tony agreed, folding his arms, “So what are we doing? Do we even need to test anything? Should we?”

At that, James frowned and shook his head, “Even with Fen, I don’t know if my influence alone would be enough to protect everyone.”

“So what do we do?” Clint asked. “I know it’s safest here, but at the same time, I hate having it around our kids.”

“It is unfortunately safest here,” James admitted, “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with it.”

“You said it was the mind stone? What’s that?” Tony asked, rubbing his jaw, mind already jumping ahead.

“It’s one part of a six-piece set, called the Infinity Stones.” James explained, “The Sceptre holds the Mind Stone, which the Ultra-Consciousness used to control.”

“So it needs to be purified, or something?” Clint asked hesitantly, then blew out a breath, “How do you purify an object?”

“I don’t know.” The whisper was loud, and James bowed his head, “I don’t have the knowledge for that, I have – like I said, vague flashes of what happened in that Alternate Universe, but it’s not worth the risk to all of you, or the loss of Jarvis.” He drew a slow breath and added, “But I’m not giving up. There’s got to be something we can do, or someone out there who knows more than I do. Maybe there’s a thread I’ve missed, or someone with ties to the old myths—someone like Doctor Strange, or even Loki himself, who understands how these artifacts work.” He let a brief pause settle in the room before he continued, “We’ll keep looking for answers, even if we have to turn over every stone.”

“What?” Tony’s head snapped up, eyes horrified, “J died?”

Nodding grimly, James reached for the water bottle on the coffee table. “From what I could see.”

“Fuck that!” Tony responded, straightening immediately, “Jarvis, start backup processes for all of you guys, and get started on the paperwork for the third server farm.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Tony leaned forward, grabbing his own bottle. “What’s so important about the Infinity Stones, besides being the means of acquiring cosmic powers?”

James glanced over at Tony. “You flew a nuke into space.”

Tony flinched at the statement but nodded, licking his lips as he swallowed. “What of it?”

“Loki wasn’t the mastermind,” James drew in a deep breath, “He was sent as a test of Earth’s defences. The true power is a Titan named Thanos. He is searching for the Stones in a bid to carry out his goal.”

“What’s his goal?” Tony whispered, eyes unfocusing as he stared at the coffee table.

“Snapping half the universe’s population out of existence.” James cleared his throat, “Because of the infighting, the Avengers weren’t prepared, and you were caught off guard. A stand and a battle took place, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Thanos won that day and successfully removed half the population.”

“Who?” Clint started to demand in a hoarse whisper, before shaking his head, “No, why were we fighting?”

“For whatever reason, Tony never investigated the Datadrop in that universe, or if he did, he never came across the files for the Winter Soldier. Although Steve was aware of them, and of the video that showed me killing the Starks.” James explained softly. “He kept it to himself and never said anything, though he continued to use Tony’s money and resources to search for me.”

Tony snorted, a vindictive surge filling him, “He’s doing that now, though the bank is going to run dry soon.” He frowned and muttered a curse as his thoughts crystallized. “Which … means they’ll probably be here, sooner rather than later.”

James shrugged, “We’ll deal.”

“If Steve thinks he’s getting us to do anything before Christmas, he’s delusional,” Clint muttered bitterly, “I’m not giving up Christmas with my kids just because he comes calling.”

“What caused the fight?” Laura asked, drawing them back on track, a frown edged on her face.

“I was framed for a high-profile murder,” James sighed, “which I was actually innocent of, but with my mindset, I was in fight or flight, with multiple agencies, and Steve on my ass, I resorted to both.” He shuddered and took a drink, “I don’t know all the details, but I saw something about the Sokovia Accords, though it makes no sense to me, but it was the ‘ace’ Steve used to set the two sides against each other. He was obviously against them, and Tony was for them. In the chaos, Steve and I escaped, heading to Siberia to take out the rest of the Winter Soldiers, and Tony followed. The three of us walked into a trap; the real assassin set it up and showed the video of the Stark murders, which led to us fighting because Steve admitted he’d known the entire time. Unfortunately, the damage was done; it split the Avengers down the middle, and those against them were declared International Terrorists, and everyone blamed Tony.”

Snorting a bitter but amused sound, Tony could only shake his head, “That’s not remarkably surprising. I get blamed when the Red Sox lose, and I don’t even like baseball.”

“I feel like that’s comparing apples to grapes,” Clint chuckled. The amusement died on his lips, and he rubbed at his face with both hands, “Okay, so short recap, bad stuff happened, baddies came, we lost, what happened after? I assume there was an after?”

“There was, but how that came to be, I don’t know exactly.” James admitted with a slight frown, “Five years passed, and next thing I knew, we were fighting Thanos again, and we lost people, but if we won?” He shrugged awkwardly. “The mind stone didn’t share that, at least not future events.”

The four of them were silent, lost in thought, until Laura finally broke the silence, head tilting to the side, “I- it’s probably private, but what other events did the mind stone share?”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Clint muttered mulishly, folding his arms, “But I also don’t want to ask clarifying questions about future events either.” He turned to look at Tony, “This is why scientists don’t play with time travel, too much knowledge can drive you mad, right?”

Snorting a laugh, Tony shrugged, “I have no idea, I’ve never contemplated time travel as a thing. It’s always been theoretical.”

“Yeah, sure.” Clint’s tone was disbelieving, “You’re the smartest guy in the world, I’m positive you could figure it out.”

“Thanks for the compliment, but I have no interest in trying.” A flush climbed Tony’s cheeks, one he knew he couldn’t prevent, but he tried playing it off with a shrug and looked at James, “Do you mind sharing what else the mind stone showed you?”

A look of hesitation crossed James’s face, and he licked his lips, “It’s personal, but not necessarily for me, though I am involved.”

“For me?” Tony asked curiously, eyes widening in surprise.

Nodding, James lowered his gaze, picking at a loose thread on his shirt.

“Hey, I love that you’re trying to respect my privacy, but if we can’t trust people you picked and claimed, then what’s the point in all of this?” Tony asked, reaching out and gripping James’s flesh arm, squeezing it gently.

“I…” James fell silent and closed his eyes. “It showed my life in reverse, with the difference of someone in the shadows, like they were looking and watching, waiting for a point in time in which they could intercede.” James ran a hand through his hair. “They never did, everything I lived, suffered and did to survive, they watched, and waited, until they were standing in front of my grandmother when she was a young woman, it was in front of that woman that they offered a book, the language in which that book was written, and I finally learned the identity of the man who was such an integral part of my life.”

“Loki,” Tony whispered, not a question but a statement of fact, and shock drifted over Clint’s face when James answered.

“Yes. He searched for a point in time that laid the paths I needed to take to reach where I am.”

He shrugged awkwardly, not releasing Tony’s hand, “They taught me, shaped me, and trained me with one duty in mind. Told me up front that my life and destiny were great and more horrifying than I could truly contemplate, but that it would be worth it. They offered me knowledge and gifts in exchange for my protection of you. You hadn’t been born, and decades would pass before we would meet. But you were the key to preventing the future from playing out the way it had.”

“Tony’s the key to preventing the snap?” Clint asked, voice shaking. “How? Why?”

“He’s balanced,” James admitted without explanation, and cracked a smile, weak though it was, at their blank looks. “I think that’s outside our comprehension, when Gods are involved, as to how, well? He’s labelled the Merchant of Death for a reason, but his power comes from his ability to give life in code and electricity. We let the genius do what he needs to do and keep him alive to do it.”

“Says the demi-god.” Clint muttered, dropping his head to Laura’s shoulder and rubbing his face into the crease of her neck, “Fuck, okay. Let the genius do what he needs and keep him alive, I can do that.” He straightened and started to rise, but Tony squeaked.

“But what? Wait, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” The panic was evident in his voice, which cracked.

Laura shook her head. “That’s just it, Tony, James laid the foundation for you to make the changes needed.”

“What? No, I didn’t know about this Thanos guy, or the infinity stones.” Tony protested wildly.

“Maybe not, but you already have information your counterpart didn’t, you know, the video of the ‘Stark murders’ is fake. You control S.H.I.E.L.D. and have a working relationship with the X-Men, with a tentative truce with the Brotherhood. You have feelers out and invites pending for other Superheros and Mutants, and you had ‘’Costa, send out the single specifically designed for Carol Danvers.” She shrugged and accepted Clint’s hand when he rose to his feet, “The only thing you’re still trying to figure out is how to reach Thor.”

Tony was silent as he listened to Laura speak; the two men were content to let her spell it out for them, though it was obvious neither man knew the full lengths of what Tony had been doing in the months that had passed. Tony finally shook his head, his mind moving faster than the others could comprehend. “I don’t need Thor, I need Loki.” Tony muttered and glanced at the camera, “J, can you put in a call to Jane Foster?”

“I will at an appropriate hour, Sir,” Jarvis replied, voice full of judgment. “As it is currently two in the morning, I feel it would be inadvisable to reach out to the Doctor for a chat about her off-world boyfriend.”

“Why Loki?” Clint asked in confusion, and held up his hands, “Not that I hate the guy anymore, I just- what can he do?”

“We need to purify the Stone,” Tony responded distractedly, and gestured at James, “Three is a powerful number, three descendants, though I think it’ll be Volya who will be the key.” He hesitated, adding, “It has to be her, not just because of her bloodline, but because she carries both the sight of the Pythia and the power of Fenrir. That makes her the only one able to bridge the magic inside the Stone and the destinies wrapped around it. No one else could reach both its mind and its purpose the way she can.”

Clint blinked and looked between James and his wife, “Fuck, I never thought I’d sound like Jean, but seriously, she’s five, what the hell do you think a five-year-old can do that demi-gods and gods can’t?”

“Loki’s children are demi-gods, Clint.” Tony replied dryly and shrugged, “But it’s the soul Volya has that matters.” He drew a deep breath and admitted, “She actually is the reincarnated soul of Jörmungandr. She’s not duelled. She is the snake, born of a union between a demigod and the last Pythia of Greece.”

For a moment, Tony let the significance sit between them, then added, “That makes her more than just powerful, Clint. Volya bridges ancient prophecy from both Norse and Greek myth—she’s the only one of us who carries both the chaos of fate and the clarity of vision. If we have any hope of cleansing the Stone or stopping whatever’s coming, it’s because she can draw on both lineages. She’s our link to answers no other living being can reach.”

“Fuck I don’t understand how your brain works,” Clint whined, rubbing at his temples.

“It works just fine,” Tony muttered and glanced at James. “Do you think Steve can be saved?”

James blinked at the question and rapid subject change, exchanging a look with the other two, and hesitantly echoed the sentence before adding, “From what?”

“Himself,” Tony replied flatly, the edge in his voice revealing old wounds. Despite everything he’d been through with Steve—the betrayals, the complicated friendship, years of rivalry and uneasy alliance—Tony’s concern was genuine, laced with exhaustion that ran deeper than anger. Whatever else had happened, Tony still cared, and the ache of that truth lingered in every word.

“And on that note, we’re going to bed,” Clint said, exhausted and sympathetic in his tone as he led Laura from the room, leaving James and Tony alone in the living room. A second later, the lights in the living room went out, and Jarvis chimed in condescendingly, “It is now bedtime, Sir. You can plan world domination tomorrow, and work out the merits and moral answers of saving Mr.Roger’s at the same time.”

“J!” Tony’s protestation turned into a startled squeak as he was gripped around the waist and slung over James’s shoulder, who strolled towards the master bedroom, ignoring the genius’s protests, which soon turned to laughter when he was tossed on the bed.

A moment later, James joined him on the bed, and the laughter died to be replaced with a groan of want, as his soulmate picked up from where they’d been interrupted earlier, and Tony couldn’t bring himself to think of anything else but the undivided attention being lavished on him.

***

Chapter Eleven

It took far longer than Tony expected. He was a bit surprised to be cooking supper a week before Christmas Eve when Jarvis let him know, with delicate caution, that Steve, Natasha, and Sam were in the lobby, requesting entrance.

Sighing, Tony set the spoon down on the counter and grabbed his mug from beside the stove. James, now seated at the island, bent over a tablet, pulled up the security feed and frowned as he studied the screen. “They look exhausted.”

“And irritated,” Tony added, bitterness lacing his words as he leaned over James’s shoulder to glare at the feed. “They must have found out the money dried up.” His voice sounded harsher than intended.

James asked Laura, “Logan, still hunting?” Laura nodded, sipping her wine.

“Stalking,” Laura muttered, yawning. “Hank and Kitty trade off tomorrow. Both Peters, Kurt, and Bobby will stop in, laying the foundation here at the tower.”

Nodding, James sighed. “It’s up to you, Antoshka. I can hide my identity until it’s needed.”

Groaning, Tony buried his head in his coffee, shoulders rising as if to shield himself. “It’s too late for this shit, but let them up, J.”

“Very well, Sir.” The AI responded neutrally. “Am I arranging rooms for them?”

“Might as well. Put them on the floor below the X-Men,” Tony replied after a large gulp, glancing at James. “What should we call you?”

A smirk appeared on his soulmate’s face, “Jimmy, it’ll throw Steve off, as it’s what Logan was called, and as far as Steve is concerned, my name is Bucky; he wouldn’t put the two together.”

Tony muttered, “Fuck, they better not be staying long.” He grabbed the spoon again and stirred the pasta sauce, while James picked up a huge bag of noodles and poured them into boiling water. As Tony focused on stirring, the three visitors appeared in the doorway, their expressions wary.

Clint put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, a grin spreading across his face as he heard Steve swear at the sharp sound. Clint followed it up with a shout, “Wash up, kiddos.”

“You don’t have to yell, Clint. We’re right here, and we aren’t kids.” Steve grunted as Natasha elbowed him.

Clint snorted and ignored him, glancing at Laura, who nodded, then moved to the cupboard and grabbed plates for everyone. “J, ask the kids what they want to drink?”

“Of course, Clint,” Jarvis replied, coming back a second later. “It was a unanimous vote for chocolate milk.”

James chuckled and got the carton of chocolate milk from the fridge, setting it on the table as he moved to the cupboard. “Does anyone else want some?”

The three men continued to move around the kitchen in a coordinated, practiced rhythm, cooking and setting up. Laura, meanwhile, settled into a chair and bent over the Starkpad, focused, her brow furrowed in concentration. The background activity blended with the visitors’ arrival, creating a cozy, bustling atmosphere. Suddenly, Laura spoke up without looking up: “Tony, Doctor Strange agreed to a meeting, and J found the kid.”

At that, Tony glanced over. “Really?”

“Yeah, he sent Karen to keep a covert eye on them, too,” Laura said, brow furrowing as she manipulated the screen. “Jesus, he only turned fifteen in August.”

“We knew he was young, love,” Clint said, rubbing a hand through Laura’s hair as he set utensils on the table. “He’s older than ours.”

“But he’s all alone, save his aunt, who I don’t think knows,” Laura muttered, rubbing at her face as helplessness crept into her voice.

“We have a plan, Laura. We’ll make it work. It’ll be fine,” Tony replied. He set up the strainer in the sink, then stepped back as James brought the pot and poured the pasta in. The timing was perfect; the kids could be heard racing down the hall, coming to a dead stop when confronted by the three standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Tony watched curiously as the Barton children pulled Volya back, eyeing the three with cold suspicion—their stares unwavering even as hurt flickered across the Black Widow’s face. Lila straightened her back stiffly, chin raised in defiance. “Why are they here?” she demanded, her voice cool but edged with fear.

“It doesn’t matter, no shop talk at the supper table,” Laura stated firmly, steel in her voice as she rose to her feet, collecting Starkpads with quick, decisive movements. She opened the safe with a snap. “Lock it, J?”

“Of course,” Jarvis responded, and then added, “and I apologize, Laura. One last bit of shop talk, before supper commences.” Laura sighed but nodded in agreement, “Last one, but no business at the table.”

“I understand, Laura, but I’m to inform you, Sir, that Mr. Rhodes will be unable to make tomorrow’s meeting,” Jarvis said, his tone gentle, “but he is still determined to be here for Christmas.”

“Does he need assistance, J?” Tony called, momentarily distracted, worry in his tone.

“It is not an emergency, Sir,” Jarvis replied, “Just an unexpected visit from an old friend, who had an extremely long flight, and while he’s thrilled at the surprise, he would have appreciated a heads up too, so expect two extras for Christmas.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Tony breathed, guilt rising sharply in his chest. “I forgot to tell Rhodey! How did I forget to tell him about Danver’s?”

Clint laughed and shook his head. “Pretty sure it’s on your to-do list, Tones, but doesn’t matter much now, she’s here.”

“Easy for you to say, Rhodey can hold a grudge,” Tony muttered, then picked up the massive bowl of pasta and brought it to the table. James followed, carrying the saucepan of pasta sauce, making sure to address everyone while focusing on the kids. “Come on, come sit. No, you don’t have to speak to them if you don’t want to. But you’ve been taught to be polite in the company of others. If that fails, pretend it’s training for public events with idiots you can’t stand, alright?”

“Fake it, till you make it, Uncle Tony?” Lila piped, grabbing Volya’s hand and slipping through the three blocking the way, followed by Conner, who glared furiously at them, like they were the idiots Tony had mentioned.

Tony grinned as the three kids crawled into their chairs. “Right you are, Mini-Agent, now, who wants cheese?”

Relieved by the excited shouts, Tony didn’t even mind neglecting introductions between unfamiliar faces. Supper conversation shifted naturally, dominated by the kids’ Santa speculations. After cleaning up and resetting the kitchen, the mood shifted again as Tony sank onto a stool at the island and accepted the coffee James made for him. “I give, we’re gonna need that chef sooner rather than later, Laura.”

Snorting, Laura walked to the island with a stack of Starkpads in hand and leaned against it. “Already in the works. We have three interviews tomorrow— all come highly recommended, with impeccable resumes and clean records. They understand they’ll have to sign NDAs.”

“Are any of them willing to start, like yesterday? Cause I’m at the point I’ll hire, sight unseen,” Tony muttered, taking a gulp of too-hot coffee.

“As much as I feel that statement,” Laura said, finishing with a laugh, “that isn’t happening. Though we might hire two to help relieve the strain, one for the family floor, the other for the other’s.”

Tony frowned, sipping his coffee, “Not to sound like a greedy asshole, but I don’t know if I wanna put up money for a second private chef.”

“I don’t know that we’d have to go that far,” Laura said with a shrug. “All three applicants have a wide range of forums for cooking, but two fit the bill for being exactly what we need. One was a family chef for 15 years, but refused the offer to move with them when they returned overseas. The second was a Head Chef overseas for the military, and then bounced between bases for over 20 years, but he’s bored being ‘retired’. The third is not only the youngest, but has the shortest work history, yet worked at four different Four-Michelin-Star restaurants around the world.”

“Military dude would be best for the enhanced on the team. They could work in tandem with the home chef,” Clint said, sliding onto a stool beside Tony and making grabby hands at the mug James offered. “He’ll already understand quantity and quality, without skimping on taste. Also, remember that the mansion has a chef, but adults and students are used to rotating through the kitchens. Sometimes it’s part of normal chores, sometimes a punishment detail.”

“Can’t really use that now,” Tony muttered, pulling the Starkpad towards him.

“Maybe not as punishment, no.” Clint laughed. “But it’s part of their routine already; just include a pre-arranged chart, and call it a day.”

Tony laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know if that’s optimism or naivety. Do you really think that’ll work?”

“It’s both, and I live in hope. Right now, I still haven’t hit the pre-teen phase, and my kids mostly do what is requested of them,” Clint said with a grin and glanced at Laura. “Which totally means I get to take them out as a reward for not shooting any of our guests.”

“I hid the only accessible gun before the kids arrived in the kitchen,” Laura said blithely, ignoring the heavy gaze from the three still sitting awkwardly at the table.

“That-that’s unfair,” Clint cried, “Jimmy’s carrying like eight.”

Snorting, Laura shook her head. “I said accessible for a reason, love. Pretty sure if one of the kids got a gun off Jimmy, we’d all be retired before the gun cooled.”

Clint’s mouth opened, then snapped shut with a frown. “That’s totally besides the point; no one got shot, so I should be able to reward them for good behaviour.”

“Does it include or exclude preventing an attempted stabbing of one of them?” James asked curiously, tilting his head.

Clint paused and narrowed his eyes, “Mine or Tony’s?”

“Tony doesn’t have a kid.” The denial came sharply and loudly from the table where Steve, Natasha, and Sam sat, but the group gathered around the island ignored them.

Without turning his head, Tony shot a quick look between the two groups. He caught the slight, barely discernible incline of James’s chin. Keeping his facial expressionless, Tony folded his arms and said, “There is no way my angel tried to stab someone.”

Snorting, James folded his arms, mirroring Tony. “No, she’d just try to bite them.”

“That’s it!” Clint shouted, eyes widening as he looked between them. “That’s what you meant, for the thing, Jesus, ouch, Laura.” Both looked equally startled at his reaction but Clint jerked and glared at his wife, rubbing his side, and Tony could see the glint of a talon before it slid away, as Clint grabbed the Starkpad out of her hand, “It’s taken me fucking weeks to figure out your cryptic double and triple speak, to find you what you actually want for Christmas, so be thankful we work for a extremely generous billionaire, and I can pay for expedite shipping.”

“Don’t forget, handsome,” Tony added helpfully, shaking his head in mock annoyance when Clint snorted, “I can take away your presents too.”

“You’re the handsomest in the room, Tony,” Clint replied immediately, “No need to go fishing for complaints and making everyone else jealous.” He paused, “Though if it ends with Mr. Possessive over there, we might not have to worry about the kids stabbing or shooting anyone.”

Tony laughed and saluted James with his coffee, “At least there won’t be blood to clean up.”

Laura snorted her water and threw the cap at Tony, who caught it with a wink, “Come on, you have to admit there was absolutely no lie in my sentence.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to give them a heads up,” She waved a hand expressively, “Considering you know they’re sitting right there.”

“Say the word, and they’d never see me coming,” James said, and it took a second for the words to translate, and Tony blinked when he realized he was the only one who understood. He didn’t get to respond, though, because that seemed to be the signal for the three at the table.

Although Sam seemed to be the more hesitant of them, as he stood more slowly. Steve was the first to shoot to his feet and stomp to stand at the end of the island, glaring at them. It was interesting that while Steve glared at them, his jaw ticking angrily, he didn’t jump into accusations or try to question or demand answers of the million things he must feel left out of knowing, because he schooled his expression after a pause and held out a hand to Laura, “Considering Tony as our host, neglected introductions, my name is-”

“I know exactly who you are, not that I care,” Laura interrupted with a sharp-lipped look, “I can’t say I’m any more impressed than I was when my daddy told me stories of the Howling Commandos.”

“There is no way your ‘daddy’ knew the Commandos, ma’am.” Steve replied evenly, “So whatever stories he told you were probably based on propaganda stories or the comics.”

Raising an eyebrow, Laura turned and pinned Natasha with a look, the other woman visually swallowing, “You slipping, Natalia or just hoarding information for your own purposes?”

“I’ve been busy,” Natasha responded, voice clipped.

“Too busy to check the damage you wrought eight months ago?” Laura demanded, slamming her bottle on the counter, water splashing everywhere, “Too busy for a fucking phone call, or text to make sure we were safe? Or too busy covering your own ass, and the star-spangled one beside you? Are you fucking him yet? Is that what this is? Protect the Alpha, and you’ll be safe, because I know you don’t care about the other one. His guilt and culpability are already established, on live TV as it was, but you know that, don’t you, Natalia?”

Natasha flinched again, though at the name or sentence, Tony couldn’t tell, though he could see the definite change in Sam as he processed the sentence, his complexion paling rapidly, and his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

Steve had no trouble filing in the words, though, his expression pained as he struggled to keep his temper, “I’m unsure where this anger is coming from, ma’am, but I feel that it’s unfair of you to not only take it out on us, but attack my friends at the same time. If you’re unsatisfied with something you think we’ve done, we can discuss it and resolve it, calmly like rational adults.”

“Sweet baby, Jesus,” Tony breathed, and shook his head, a sort of horrified laugh bubbling inside of him, “are you fucking delusional? You can’t fix what you did, Steve!”

“No one asked you, Tony,” Steve snapped, “and if you aren’t going to help mediate this, then you might as well leave.”

“You realize that not only is this my home, but you also showed up here, right?” Tony said dryly, “You don’t like what people – people mind you that have a perfectly justified and reasonable right to be pissed at you, have to say, then maybe you should leave.”

“I understand that you like to be the center of attention, Tony, but you really aren’t helping this situation.” Steve replied through clenched teeth, “Obviously, you’re poking just to get a reaction-”

“Whose idea was it to do the datadrop?” Clint demanded, interrupting this time, glancing between Steve and Natasha.

Bewildered, Steve shook his head, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the fucking question, Steve.” Clint ordered and glared when Steve opened his mouth, “and no, I won’t watch my fucking language. Not only have you been an absent asshole, you’ve been rude to my wife, judgmental of my kids, and a bigger ass to the one man who has not only the power but the ability to make you disappear. That man is not only my friend and brother, he’s also my boss, and it’s my duty to inform you that you’re getting really close to triggering DMDTT – also known as Dead Men Don’t Tell Tales.” He shifted on the stool, and Tony noticed that James and Laura had shifted seconds before him.

Once again, Tony got lost in his thoughts, unable to understand how this was his life. One Legend, one former Deaf Circus performer, and the other a Clone, three Assassins, each of them with unique abilities but still somewhat blood thirsty in the defence of him and the kids. Not only was that a change, but it was also a nice one. It also meant it was a good thing he was a billionaire, because he could see himself having to pay off people later if they got caught.

The growl Clint let out drew Tony’s attention back to the conversation, and he blinked, trying to get back on track, and winced when the disclaimer Steve had said finally processed. “You’re a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Clint, which technically means I’m your boss as the highest active agent and leader of the Avengers, Tony has no hold over you.”

“Is that a new motto, ‘get the stupider but prettier pray to follow’, because you have to see that’s a sinking ship, right?” Clint asked Natasha curiously, and turned to look at Steve, “S.H.I.E.L.D.’s done, and has been since the datadrop, which you’d know if you weren’t bopping all over the world on other peoples’ dime, also, as a man who has neither, a family, kids, or even a job, your opinions on what I have, or say means shit to me.”

“I didn’t know you had a family,” Steve said slowly, completely ignoring the sentence about S.H.I.E.L.D. “Why did you never say anything about them?”

“Seriously?” Clint flailed in the chair, automatically catching the stress ball James tossed his way, which earned him a narrowed-eyed look from him, and a calculating one from Natasha, though James quirked an eyebrow at Clint, crossed his arms, and stared back at Natasha, expression blank.

Natasha must have read or sensed something in it, because she swallowed hard and answered Clint’s original question, “I found the information and spoke to Steve about it. We determined together that it needed to be shared so that Hydra couldn’t hide in the shadows again.”

“And not calling Tony to deal with that information?” Clint asked pointedly, lifting an eyebrow daringly.

“It was discussed and discarded as an opinion, given we didn’t know who to trust,” Natasha admitted, nervously wrapping her arms around her body.

“Did you even look at the information you had before you slapped it on the internet for the world to see?” Clint asked, tossing the ball back to James, who looked like he barely moved but caught the ball all the same, and threw it back.

“Not an in-depth look,” Natasha admitted, looking away.

“Not an in-depth look,” Laura repeated flatly, “couldn’t be bothered to see what all was there, or you just didn’t care?”

“It was enough of a look to make sure your file wasn’t there,” Clint snapped and pointed at Steve’s, “Nor his, or Fury’s, which makes me wonder why you were important enough not to be there?”

“Telling the world about Hydra was too important,” Steve stated firmly, “nothing else matters but exposing their plots and plans.”

Three things happened at once, Laura rose, toppling her chair, thunder crashed from a clear but frozen sky, Jarvis speaking in his ear to let him know Thor had arrived on the roof, but before he could respond, a growl, to high and young to be anything but a kids filled the air, and a second later James caught Conner, holding him firmly but carefully against his chest, a rumble vibrating James’s chest, as the preteen’s chest heaved, tears filling his eyes.

“Nothing else matters? My eight-year-old sister had to shoot and kill Reavers who came to our home because of your actions! You dropped our information on the internet, compromised our lives for nothing but your own gain, looking for a ghost story that has been haunting people for decades.” He glanced around at the room at adults, “you sacrificed good agents, and ops on the off chance you’d flush an organization known for an ideal. Do you even know how many died? You sacrificed my grandfather, his girlfriend, their friends and students – other mutants like myself, my mother, and my father, who wasn’t even in the states but in Madripoor, because you thought you were right.”

“But I was right!” Steve protested passionately, “The world had to know that Hydra wasn’t dead, and I’m sorry things happened to you, but you’re fine now, so it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Uncle Tony was right, you are fucking delusional,” Conner growled low, the sound flexing like a full-blown wolf’s, and Tony had to bite his tongue, to prevent the grin of amusement that absolutely wanted to break free, which he knew was completely inappropriate, but catching the first overt sign of puberty in the form of his inner wolf was probably the best part of the night, and he couldn’t wait to rub it in later.

“You shouldn’t let him speak to me like that!” Steve snapped, glaring at Clint.

“He hasn’t said anything I disagree with, but was too polite to say myself, and considering I was being held captive for three months while he dealt with this, he’s earned the fucking right to tell you off.” Clint snarled back, moving to stand next to James and his son, showing his support. “The worst part about this is, you don’t even understand what it is you did, and if you did, you wouldn’t care either.”

“I did what was right!” Steve declared, glaring at them as if they were in the wrong.

Conner swallowed, the sound audible, his voice trembling and thick with tears when he spoke, “Treason. What you did was treason, and if this were still the forties, they’d have executed you by hanging at Fort Leavenworth, if they even brought you home instead of dropping you in an unmarked grave, and calling it a day. They should have after you not only ignored orders, but deserted you posting, and right now, I wish they had because I’ve never been more disappointed in meeting a supposed hero than I am right now.” Conner jerked in James’s hold, and he let him go, “Fuck you, Captain America, they should have left your ass on ice. I hope if your friend is found, he’ll be just as disappointed as this generation is, because it might be grandpa’s stories or the comics as you seemed to believe, but the Bucky in those stories would have kicked your ass for being a stupid punk, and not thinking shit through.”

The stunned silence was almost stifling, but Conner only swiped at his eyes and stalked from the room. Laura followed after her son a moment later. James slipped out a second after her, after exchanging a look with Clint, who nodded, and didn’t bother hiding the three Stark guns he accepted from the assassin, as he tucked them in the front and back of his jeans. Then handed the third to Tony, who accepted it with a frown, that only increased when Clint muttered, “Get used to it, starting tomorrow you’re carrying.”

“I have two repulsers on me right now,” Tony protested.

“Which is fine if you have a moment to duck while it activates, but it’s not instant, a gun is,” Clint stated warily, running a hand through his hair before turning to their guests and assessing them critically. Tony took a minute to do the same, and in the same breath, resolved to work on communicators that could speak mind-to-mind, because he would maim someone to know exactly what Clint was thinking, and wanted to know if the man had picked up on the same thing he was.

The three of them were still standing there, expressions cycling through shock and disbelief, though Natasha quickly seemed to realize the lapse and her expression shuddered, showing nothing, but a blankness that at one time would have been eerie, yet seeing the Winter Soldier’s mask, Tony realized how much he could actually read on Natasha Romanoff’s face, and knew she’d be horrified to learn that. Yet she was, even now, calculating the odds and coming to the realization that she’d laid most of her eggs in the basket of Steven Grant Rogers, which might not have been the best call she could have made. It left Tony wondering if she regretted that psych-eval she’d presented as fact, and whether she had the educational degree to back up the words. The man from the ‘40s was still apparently stunned, though if it was at the genuine rage in an eleven-year-old’s voice, the words, language or the truth Conner had shoved in Steve’s face, Tony couldn’t be sure. Though he would bet one of his better cars that sometime in the next 24-48 hours, Steve would either pretend the conversation didn’t mean what it meant, or the kid had been coached to say such horrible things, and actually had no idea what he said, because he couldn’t possibly know what he was talking about. Steve was a hero! That meant he was always in the right. Nothing and nobody could possibly understand what Steve had sacrificed to protect the little people. It would be sad if it weren’t also true, and Tony could already feel the headache building, yet it did give him an idea, and he nudged Jarvis to get the ball rolling on that.

Sam Wilson was the obvious man out, yet, in a way, Tony didn’t feel as bad for him as he should have. As a former Air Force who lost his wing man, he’d probably grown up, just like every boy and girl in the United States, on the stories of Captain America, meaning it had been the dream of a lifetime, being picked to play wingmen to the ‘man’ himself, and with the rose tinted glasses, he’d never seen or thought to question what was being kept from him. He was now, though. Every thought played out on his face, like it was a movie, though he was keeping his questions to himself. He dropped his eyes when he realized he was being observed by two men.

It was how Thor found them, strolling into the kitchen, his face showing his hesitation, which quickly changed to a jovial one, though Tony could pick up on how the God appeared to be forcing it a bit. “Ah, friends, it is good to see you!”

“Hey, Point Break,” Tony responded suddenly exhausted, and knew it showed by the slight narrowing of Clint’s eyes, even as the other man shifted closer, a more overt show of protection that it probably warranted, “While I’m always happy to have guests, and I do in fact need to speak with you, right now isn’t a great time, as you can see things aren’t like you left them.”

Thor looked around the room, seeming to identify the two factions, not that it was hard, and Tony knew for all that the god-like to play dumb, he was anything but, as the blond nodded sagely, “So it would appear, friend-Tony. I had already sensed the tension before I entered.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Tony muttered, copying Clint’s action of sliding the gun into the waist of his jeans, “So is this a business trip, or pleasure?”

“A bit of both,” Thor answered after a pause. Brows furrowing, head tilting to the side, he regarded Tony. “Something is different about you, Anthony.”

“It’s new and private,” Tony said, so firmly that Thor’s head reared back like he’d been struck, his eyes widened – almost comically large. His hands came up in supplication. “Of course, such a thing is meant to be treasured and protected. We of Asgard understand-”

“Thor,” Clint snapped, glaring at the god who had the grace to look ashamed.

“Forgive me, if my brother were here, he’d hit me for such blatant disrespect.” Thor bowed gracefully, “To answer your question, Anthony, it is a trip of both, as I have business to discuss with the Avengers, before I’m off to visit the fair Lady Jane for her Yuletide celebration.”

“The Avengers no longer exist, Thor,” Tony said, ignoring the hiss of anger Steve let out, “Though Sword’s Initiative may be of assistance,” He glanced at Clint, “time tomorrow?”

Clint shrugged. “I’ll check and give Hill and Couslon an update to clear their whole afternoon.” Clint muttered and pulled out his phone, shooting off a text, then frowned at the response he got back: “Laura said they’re already aware.” He glanced at the trio, then looked at Tony, “Apparently, they’ve been keeping track of their movements. Be sure to remind me to tell Phill off tomorrow.”

“I can wait to speak to them,” Thor said sincerely, though he hesitated briefly before asking, “Is it a council of people I must appeal to?” He asked and hastened to add, “Not that I have an issue with a formal format, it just helps the mindset to put across the applicable points necessary beforehand if I know the type of setting.”

“It is,” Tony admitted, and sighed sinking his weight against the counter, rubbing at his chest, “A council that is, current members include me, Hank Mcoy, Ororo Munroe, both formerly of the X-Men, Phil Coulson, Maria Hill, Rhodey – James Rhodes, and Carol Danvers, though her placement is still pending as she just arrived back on Earth today or yesterday – the details are fuzzy there.” He gestured to Clint, “Either Clint or his wife, Laura, or Jimmy – you’ll meet him later, will be there as my bodyguards, but technically anyone has the right to sit in meetings as we aren’t in the business of hiding what it is we are attempting to do or build in regards to future actions.”

“We can go over the full details later, Anthony.” Thor said, a look of concern growing on his face, “You don’t look well, and while I know you aren’t one to like advice, you should go and rest.”

Tony opened his mouth, but Thor shook his head, eyeing the trio who still hadn’t spoken since Thor had entered, “No, please don’t argue, I’m not speaking out of condensation, but out of knowing. As I said, such things are honoured on Asgard, the separation…” He trailed off, clearing, not wanting to say more, though he didn’t need to, as James appeared behind him, slipped past the God without a look, though the stiffening of his shoulders indicated he didn’t miss the look he received as he approached Tony.

“Volya wants a story, and says I don’t do the voices right,” James stated, gripping Tony’s arm, and Tony almost sighed in relief at the touch, the headache gone, but the exhaustion lingered, and he stifled a yawn behind his hand.

“Yeah, alright, let’s go read my daughter a story.” Tony agreed and shot Clint an apologetic look. The other man let out a brief laugh. “You think I’m staying to listen to the million and one complaints?” Clint laughed again, “Man, I love you as my brother, but even you don’t pay that much, and I promised Laura she could have a long, relaxing bath tonight, so I’m on bedtime duty too.”

“Alright, J?” Tony agreed without arguing, “The trio only have access to their floor and the gym until tomorrow morning when they may join us for breakfast – unless they wish to leave, we won’t hold them hostage.” He glanced at Thor, “Did you need a room for the night?”

Nodding, Thor grimaced, “Though it behooves me to realize it is inconsiderate of me to show up unannounced and expect such a thing.” “Not a problem, Lightning Bug, we’ve got room,” Tony said, grabbing a Starkpad off the counter, and handed it to Thor, who not only smiled at the nickname, but accepted the pad with a nod, “I’m not sure what you know, but J will bring you up to date on the happenings over the last couple of years. If you have any questions, either make note of them or ask him, and he should be able to clarify things.” He paused and tilted his head. “I don’t know if S.H.I.E.L.D. offered a contract to work here on earth, but I can send you a standard one we have for Sword, if you wanna look it over?”

“I hate to admit, but I don’t know what I might have missed, so I appreciate the opportunity to catch up, Anthony.” Thor inclined his head, “As for S.H.I.E.L.D., no contract- which in hindsight is problematic- was offered when I first appeared on Midgard, so I will gladly review what is offered and offer my thoughts on it tomorrow.”

Tony nodded, glanced at Sam, debated for a second before offering an olive branch, “I don’t really know you, and I can guess what they’ve shared about me, though if you haven’t ascertained they have low opinions on me.” He waved another Starkpad. “Jarvis has access to everything pulled from the Datadrop, including a chronological order of events starting with Iron Man, and no, that’s not conceit talking, that’s to understand how fucked up S.H.I.E.L.D.’s actions continued. That’s if you were curious about what you’ve missed out on.”

Sam nodded tightly at that, but at least muttered a soft thanks, accepting the Starkpad, ignoring the look of disapproval Steve sent his way. Tony didn’t really begrudge him the attitude; he’d been pissed when the Datadrop happened, but he still believed he had it worse. Tony had watched it on the news, feeling like the last to know, while Sam had been in the thick of it. It was his own fault for not asking a question or demanding answers. When no one said anything else, James prodded Tony to stand and slid an arm around his shoulders, tucking him against his body, but put him between the wall and James so when they passed Thor, James was actually closer to the God, even though Tony could feel the tension the position put his soulmate in. Thor thankfully said nothing and even stepped to the side, proving he had brains, and offered a respectful nod, “Thank-you for the hospitality, Anthony. I will be sure to catch up and speak with Jarvis once I get to my room, if he would kindly light the way?”

“Sir?” Jarvis asked.

Tony leaned against James’s arms, knowing what he was being asked, “The X-Men’s floor, J.”

“Very good, Sir. Thor, if you step into the elevator, I will let you off on the appropriate floor. Breakfast is at seven in the morning, and I would be happy to ensure you’re awake, if you wish to join, or even assist in the preparation of food.” Jarvis said.

“No, wait, where are you going?” Steve said, suddenly realizing everyone but the three of them was leaving the room. “We have things we need to talk about, misconceptions and lies you’re spreading, blatant disrespect, lack of discipline, lying to teammates-”

“Steve?” Sam interrupted, voice hard, and waited for the man to look at him, “Shut up.”

Steve sputtered and shook his head, “What? No, Tony can’t be allowed-”

Natasha cleared her throat and jerked her head once. “It can wait till tomorrow, when everyone has slept.” She raised her eyebrow when he opened his mouth to argue again, “No, the three of us are running on six hours of sleep in three days, you might be a supersoldier, and while I’m enhanced, even I’m feeling the strain. I can’t imagine how Sam feels.”

“Like you even care,” Sam muttered waspishly, and then shook his head when Natasha turned a hurt expression his way, “Don’t even bother, if that room is available, I’d appreciate it, and a wake-up call at 5:30, please.”

“If the three of you would head to the elevator, I will take you to the floor, and you may choose any of the rooms there as they’re all available.” Jarvis replied neutrally, pausing briefly, before adding, “and Ms.Romanoff, please remember Sir’s orders, only the floor assigned and the gym. If you are caught attempting to get in anywhere else, the defences have been extensively upgraded, which, for your sake, don’t include the bugs you attempted to place, though that will be your only warning regarding that.”

Natasha paled rapidly at the warning, taking it for the threat it was, and she was silent as she prodded Steve from the room. Tony and James were long gone, though he’d listened to the entire conversation via Jarvis and smiled as he entered Volya’s room after knocking on her door.

***

 

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