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1.
The first time Scott met Captain America, he had been honest to God shocked by how unreal the man seemed.
Turns out that despite being ridiculously up-to-date on all of the Avengers’ latest activities via the news, the occasional trashy tabloid magazine, and the frankly embarrassing amount of time he spent imagining his daily routine as part of the team, there was still quite nothing like seeing Literal Captain America in the flesh. Especially after tumbling rather unceremoniously out of the back of an unmarked van. Maybe it was the air of moral uprightness the guy seemed to exude effortlessly, or the uniquely Captain America-y brand of unshakable confidence that was somewhat problematically infectious. It was like a page from one of his old comics come to life, him shaking Cap’s hand with way too much vigor and then stammering out a jumbled greeting that had him wanting to kick himself.
He saw Sam stifle a grin from where he stood, but he couldn’t even bring himself to mind. Honestly, he was just glad to be invited to the table (technically, the airport parking lot). Not just any team, but the Avengers, man. Hell, he would gladly do it even if his only role in the lineup was the designated comic relief.
But the interaction remained lighthearted for only a moment. The Captain’s demeanor shifted from amicable to stoic in a split second, so fast Scott would not have caught it if he had not been staring. He got the memo – friendly introductions were done, and it was back to business instantly.
“They tell you what we’re up against?” Cap asked, face not betraying any emotion.
Sam had said something about Russian super-soldiers and abandoned Hydra bases on the ride over, but Scott had been too jet-lagged to pay proper attention to the pseudo-briefing and had opted to grab a few winks of sleep instead.
“Something about some…psycho-assassins?” Scott managed to put together, and was apparently close enough. The discussion that followed regarding the legality of the situation was one that felt a little too uncomfortably familiar to those he used to have with his partners-in-crime, apparently one of whom was now Captain freaking America. The day was really not turning out as Scott had expected; how often was it that the paragon of American excellence asked you to engage in internationally lawbreaking behavior together?
The PA overhead blared before he could give it any more thought, some German nonsense he didn’t understand but the Terminator-looking one-armed guy apparently did. Airport evacuation.
“Stark,” Sam muttered, moving to address Cap directly as something unreadable passed over the latter’s face. The two stared at each other for a second too long, as if debating something that Scott didn't get the memo on. He felt like he was missing some crucial piece of information – he had seen the news of Stark leaving the team following the Ultron debacle alongside the Avengers’ perfunctory press statement about how the team would be continually evolving even with his absence, but even then, there was no reason for the man to antagonize them when they were just trying to prevent a disaster from happening.
Cap closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out an exasperated sigh, almost strangely like he was at odds with himself. On anyone else, Scott might have thought it was uncertainty. The entire team stood tense, eyes trained on their team leader in trepidation as the PA announcement repeated itself.
“Stark?” Scott echoed, which managed to snap Cap out of the mild daze he had been in. The flash of hesitation that had been on his face disappeared, replaced by the steely gaze and set jaw that made up the famous Captain America Look.
“Suit up,” Cap said simply. The question that hung in the air remained unanswered.
“Wait, wait, I’m confused. Isn’t Stark on our side? Tony Stark, famously an Avenger? Shouldn’t he be helping us? Are we going to fight him? Dude, what even is going on?” Scott babbled as they barreled through the now-empty airport terminal.
They had figured that it would be less conspicuous if they split up and took different routes to the jet hangar instead of sprinting through the airport like a group of wanted criminals. Which, apparently, they now were. Because Tony Stark was out to arrest them. Scott was only vaguely nervous about that, what with the guy being one of the most powerful people on the planet and everything. Mostly confused, if anything. He was sure he resembled a lost kindergartner on a field trip right then. Sam was a long-suffering presence beside him, and next to him, the metal one-armed guy named Bucky, who had shared nothing else about himself but that.
“Uh, as of three hours ago, he is most definitely not on our side. Let’s just say he and Steve disagreed on some things. They give you the rundown on the Sokovia Accords yet? According to those Accords, we aren’t supposed to be here right now, so he’s here to take us in. Steve doesn’t want to fight him; he thinks that he can reason with Stark,” Sam explained.
But he will, if necessary went unsaid.
Scott fought the urge to suggest that people typically came to bureaucratic compromises in offices and conference rooms instead of in the middle of European airports. Or that when people disagreed, Plan B usually didn’t involve duking it out in extremely public spaces, but he didn’t think Sam would appreciate that. It must have shown on his face anyway, because Sam just shook his head as the tarmac came into view. Cap had reached before they did, and was in the middle of a heated exchange with Stark and War Machine. From the raised voices that could be heard even in the building and the massively pissed-off expression on Stark’s face, said discussion wasn't going very well.
“Those two are impossible with each other. Put them in the same room and they’ll blow it up. Can’t have a conversation without tearing each other’s heads off. See, there we go again.” Sam gestured at the commotion
Scott frowned at that; when Sam had called him up in the middle of the night, he had expected the enemy to be an alien of some sort with a vendetta against humankind, or maybe a super-villain with a streak for world domination. Not embroiled in an internal conflict with a confrontation so high-profile the prospect of the inevitable fallout made his previous enthusiasm stop dead in its tracks
"Listen," Sam said, as if to reassure him, "Steve's usually a pretty level-headed guy, this is just…they're not great at talking to each other." Scott tried his best to understand, but he found it hard to fathom someone managing to get under even Captain America's skin.
In the time he spent pondering the great mysteries of the Avengers' dynamics, Black Widow and another spandex-clad figure had joined the fight on Stark’s side. The latter had somehow managed to swipe Cap’s shield when Scott had been distracted for only a second. The confusion settled into a pit in his stomach, churning out theories ranging from personal agendas to political conspiracies. Scott wasn’t privy to the details, but he didn’t need Sam to tell him that whatever had gone down between the two ex-teammates had been bad, if not downright unfixable. Was there any coming back from this? Would there be an Avengers after this, even?
“Alright, Lang!”
And that was his cue to move.
2.
Stark was the last person Scott had expected to visit them in the Raft, considering he was the one who put them all in there. One would think he would at least have some guilt for turning against half his teammates before unceremoniously locking them up, but Hank was right. You really never should trust a Stark, even if just to have a conscience.
He certainly looked worse for wear, one arm hanging limply in a sling and the other probably not to be in a much better state if the exposed wrist littered with injuries was anything to go by. The bruise painting his left eye a dark shade of magenta looked particularly nasty, especially atop dark circles that gave away at least several sleepless nights. A far cry from the polished and ostentatious man Scott had known from Forbes lists and television interviews. A tinge of twisted victory curled in his stomach from knowing he’d contributed at least in part to the current state the usually-glamorous man was in, but mostly resignation awaited the gloating that was sure to come.
The one time he tried to do something unquestionably right with his newfound superpowers — joining the Avengers, for God’s sake — and had still managed to land himself back in the inside of a cell again. How he was going to get out of this one, he had no idea. Hank and Hope were going to be so pissed. The jab he’d attempted at Stark fell flat and only succeeded in making Scott feel even more like shit.
Stark's brief exchange with Hawkeye stayed in his mind, though. It was mostly one-sided, with Barton doing little more than ignore him by the end, but Stark maintained that he didn't think Ross would put them here, in a place for maniacs.
It almost sounded…sincere, maybe even some regret, if he was being honest.
He quickly tossed the thought aside. What even was Stark’s play here? Convince them to switch teams now that he had them all locked up neatly in prison? Spill all of Cap’s secrets in exchange for freedom? Or maybe he was really just here to glare condescendingly down at them in an Armani three-piece while making a speech about “ideals”. Scott wouldn’t put any of that past him, especially if what Hank had said about his bloodline bore any merit.
In the end, there hadn’t been much of any of that.
Stark strode past the rest of their cells and headed straight for Sam’s, which would have had Scott concerned if not for the extremely (tried and tested) sturdy bars of the cell that he could not so much as put an arm through. It wouldn’t have been necessary, anyway, turns out Stark just wanted to talk.
Now, he hadn’t meant to purposefully eavesdrop, but the convenient location of his cell being adjacent to Sam’s made the conversation exceptionally easy to overhear. And sure, pressing himself up against the wall to capture the full exchange probably didn’t help that particular argument, but could you blame a guy for trying to get some context for this insanely ridiculous mess?
"…You're the good cop now?" Sam said, the bite in his voice audible even from across the wall.
"I'm just the guy who needs to know where Steve went." Scott couldn't help but frown at that. Steve? Steve was for friends, for Sam, Bucky, and Natasha — people who seemed to know Cap better than he knew himself. Even Wanda was solidly in "Cap" territory. Just how close had Stark been to Cap? The scenario he had constructed in his head of a long-brewing feud that had finally come to a head between two deeply divided factions within the Avengers felt like it was crumbling by the second.
"Look, I'll tell you," Sam finally relented after some back and forth, "But you have to go alone and as a friend."
"Easy," Stark responded without any hesitation. He practically exuded relief. What happened to the guy who was all for doing Ross' bidding?
After Stark had gone, and with the cameras still buzzing with the telltale signs of tampering, Scott knocked on the wall that divided him and Sam. "Aren't you worried that he's gonna spill the beans to Ross?"
"Nah," Sam replied. "They're not on the best of terms right now, but Tony wouldn't do that. He and Steve have a complicated relationship, to say the least. Back in the day they were…well, it's really not my place to say, you know?"
Scott fought the urge to remark that a "complicated relationship" would be more aptly used to describe what he had with Hope right now, not people who had just wrecked an airport over disagreements. "How can you be sure? You said they couldn't talk to each other without biting each other's heads off," he pressed.
"Two things can be true," Sam mused, "Did you hear what Tony said there at the end? He said he made a mistake, that he was wrong about Bucky killing King T'Chaka. Do you know how often you have Tony Stark willingly admitting that he was wrong? Not very."
Scott thought he might go insane from sheer bewilderment. "So he's desperate. To find Cap. After beating each other half to death," he said, drumming his fingers irritably against the cold concrete.
He heard Sam's laugh from the other side of the wall. "Desperate, yes. But probably not for the reason you think."
Not to say that Scott didn't have the utmost faith in Captain America, but he had been surprised when the man showed up, alone. Huh.
Clint cheered from the opposite side of the floor, and Scott heard the jangling of Wanda's chains as she got up to greet him. The rustling next to him indicated that Sam had done the same, but he sounded far less cheery than Clint and Wanda did.
"Hey, are you okay? Where's Barnes? Stark?" Sam asked worriedly. Scott glanced up at the cameras in his cell — sure enough, they had been disabled. Maybe the two of them had made up in Russia?
As Cap came closer into view, Scott realized that he appeared much worse for wear than the last time he had seen the man. There didn't seem to be any new major injuries, and he looked well physically. But the weariness in the blond's face was more suitably aligned with the passage of years rather than what could not have been more than a week, and there was a bone-deep tiredness in the way he carried himself that Scott could have sworn was not there when he fled the airport. This was not the face of someone who had his team back together.
"I'm alright, Sam. Nat's disabled the cameras, we should be in the clear for a while. The locks should be down soon," the blond said, coming to a stop in front of their cells. "How have you guys been holding up?" Scott could almost see Sam narrowing his eyes at the questions that went unanswered.
"We're fine. You guys alone in the jailbreak attempt? You know, Ross is gonna have Tony's head on a platter for this," Sam joked, and Scott didn't know what reaction he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't for Cap to visibly flinch at the mention of the other man's name. Something had happened in Russia alright.
As the lights went dark around them, Scott couldn't help but overhear bits and pieces of the conversation between the two men. From what he could gather, the whole undead supersoldier thing had been a ruse to lure them to a bunker in Siberia, where some serious shit had gone down. At the end of it, Bucky had chosen to go into cryo in Wakanda with the help of the new King T'Challa. There had been a fight too, or at least Scott thought that was what he heard, because the captain's voice was shaking too much by the end. They weren't going to be back on the team anytime soon, that's for sure.
At the end of it, Scott thought he might have seen Steve trembling slightly, but it was too dark to be sure.
Sam remained oddly quiet.
When the locks on their doors finally fell open with a clang and Sam darted forward to pull Steve into a tight embrace immediately, Scott found himself unable to get up from where he sat leaned against the concrete. He thought of Cassie. Luis. Hope. Hell, even Hank. All the people he had left back at home, people who were waiting for him to get back. He thought of the lost expression in Steve's eyes.
Maybe Captain America didn't know everything, after all.
He had spent so long being in motion, flitting from one job to another, first a criminal then a superhero, trading one prison for a larger, more secure one. Eyeing the open doors of his cell, Scott only felt exhaustion. He was tired of running. He just wanted to see his daughter again.
This time, when Steve held out his hand for Scott to take, he shook his head gently, "I have a family to get back to, I don't think I can…"
Across the room, Scott saw Clint sit back down as well, holding his fingers up in a lazy salute. "I get it. Family's important, Scott," Cap nodded, "Hold onto it while you can."
"I'm sorry, Cap. I know you didn't intend it to be this way either." Then, pushing his luck, "I know you two were friends."
"It's fine. It doesn't…none of it matters anymore. It's over." Cap offered him a shaky smile before turning away. Scott thought he had been talking about the war, but he swore he might have seen the glisten of something in those blue eyes. It was gone faster than he could blink.
3.
Years passed before Scott saw any of the team again. He had been doing well, finally having finished serving his house arrest term and being in a stable relationship with the woman he loved. Then in a split second, five years had gone by and his adorable kid was almost as tall as him. So many people were gone. Hope…Hank…Luis…rows upon rows of what the city called memorial plaques but were really just glorified tombstones for the dusted. It was a sharp, devastating kind of hurt that was jarringly different from the type of quiet ache that everyone else wore. Whoever was left, anyway. He hadn't been sure if there would even be anyone to answer the door when he turned into the driveway of the sleek Avengers Compound he had once only dreamt of entering. All that felt like a lifetime ago.
As Cap and Black Widow led him through the empty halls towards a sleek, modern room that was probably meant to be part of a communal area, Scott couldn't help but privately contemplate that the compound was designed in mind for hell of a lot more than three people. His voice seemed to bounce off the walls as he explained the gist of his grand plan, and the emptiness of the loveseats and couches scattered around the room made him feel unsettlingly like he had stepped into a haunted house. From the way the two practically lit up at his announcement of a plan, his attentive audience evidently did not share the sentiment, or maybe they had just gotten used to how disturbingly quiet the place was.
At the end of his tirade, Scott found himself being convinced by Cap that the best possible step forward was to go to Tony Stark, of all people. Skepticism was written on even the Widow's face, but considering how they weren't exactly overflowing with options, Scott acquiesced in the end.
The car ride up to Stark's lake house was an awkward one to say the least. What do you say to people whom you hadn't seen in years (two by Scott's count, seven by everyone else's) and were only now reuniting with because the world had gone completely to shit? Cap and Natasha remained resolutely quiet in the front of the car while Scott spread himself out comfortably over the backseat. Gone was the initial jubilation of having a potentially workable plan; the tension alone was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Instead of stewing in silence, Scott eyed the two former Avengers, making note of what had changed in the years since they last saw each other. Surprisingly, Natasha was the easier of the two to make out. When Scott last saw her on the news, she had been wearing her hair in a blonde bob and was almost always dressed in combat gear. Impeccable as always, but there was a vulnerability to how she held herself now that could only be born from pain, the kind of softness that spoke of having nothing left to fight for anymore. Scott had seen it often in other men during his prison stints. Those men usually didn't last long.
He could understand, of course. Back at the compound, Scott had seen the list of the dusted superheroes — Sam was gone now. Sam had been Scott's first real friend in the superheroing business, and he knew Natasha had been close with him too. Also gone were Wanda and Bucky, alongside dozens of others, for whom Scott felt a pang in his chest at never getting the chance to know. If even he felt their loss so markedly, it must have been agonizing for their ex-leader.
Scott turned to get a good once-over at Cap, who was gripping the steering wheel with a force much greater than necessary for the slow winding path they were driving on. He had aged, too, but where Natasha had grown softer around the edges, Steve might as well have wrapped himself in his shield to keep from breaking. If Scott thought Cap had been stoic at the airport a few years ago, it was nothing compared to how unreadable his face was now. Interesting how he had gotten a change of attire for the trip though, the dark leather jacket a switch-up from the plaid shirts or uniform he usually saw the captain in. If Scott didn't know better, he would have said Steve got dressed up for the occasion.
"So," Scott broke the silence after it became clear neither of the two was going to say anything, "Don't you guys find it strange how Stark's got his fortress all tucked away by a lake in upstate New York?" The compound was already pretty far out from the city, but where Tony Stark apparently lived was even more secluded. Somewhere along the journey, the road became single-laned and Scott realized they hadn't seen another car in the last fifteen minutes.
"Tony's always had a penchant for nature, that sort of thing," Natasha smiled, "You know when he first claimed he was retiring, he said he was going to build Pepper a farm."
"Yeah, what is he married now?" Scott had seen the news of the engagement before the Blip; it was pretty hard to miss when you were as high-profile as Stark.
Natasha hummed, and Scott didn't miss the sidelong glance she threw at Steve. He filed that away to examine later. "A few years ago, yeah. The ceremony was at the lake house, actually. Small, but very charming. Friends and family only."
Scott couldn't resist the snort that tore its way out of his way out of his throat, "Glad to know I wouldn't have made it on the guest list even if I wasn't busy doing time in the quantum realm."
Natasha raised one manicured eyebrow and deliberately turned away to study the trees outside the window instead. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that. My plus-one refused to come with me, you could've taken his spot." It was clear as day who she was referring to.
"Nat!" Steve hissed. From his tone, they'd obviously had this conversation before, though by their demeanors it didn't seem like it was one that had ended agreeably. Strange, Scott thought. He had always thought of Captain America as the kind of guy who readily gave out second chances and was generally amenable to olive branches. Was it personal, then? Maybe Cap didn't think Stark and his wife were a good match. It was too late to find out, anyway, because they both refused to broach the topic for the rest of the ride, much to Scott's annoyance.
He felt the shift in atmosphere the moment they reached Stark's house. Scott hadn't seen Stark ever since that fateful day in the Raft, and he painted a much better picture now than he did then. Practically glowing with the light of fatherhood. Scott was unendingly jealous. Still, that was nothing compared to whatever was going on between him and Cap. Scott watched as their eyes met over the porch and felt himself holding his breath for reasons even he was unsure of. The air seemed to stand still in that split second, the entire world pausing for them until the moment inevitably broke. Stark gave Natasha a quick nod and even sort of acknowledged him, but Scott couldn't help but think that he had borne witness to something private. The blooming confusion had to take a backseat for the time being; he only hoped whatever this was would make Stark more receptive to their plan instead of digging up age-old conflicts.
Life didn't always go the way he wanted it to. Stark might have heard them out, but outright refused to be any part of it, and not for their lack of trying. Well, maybe Cap had been a little bit too gentle about it. The sharp, no-nonsense Captain America Voice (to which Scott had personally experienced first-hand to be very, very effective) didn't even make an appearance. Where had the inscrutable, tough-as-nails man from the car gone? Scott privately thought that he even seemed accepting of Stark's decision to stay behind and play happy family. Really, at a time like this? This was their one chance. He made a last-ditch attempt to convince Stark of the viability of the plan, but the guy stood his ground firmly.
"If you don't talk shop, you're welcome to stay for lunch," Stark said to them, but his gaze was trained on the blond. Though Scott would have preferred to stay, if only for the additional time they would get at persuading their best chance at saving the world, Cap obviously didn't share the sentiment. His hands were gripping the edges of his shirt so tightly that Scott was afraid he would accidentally rip it, and the antsy way he was standing around gave off the distinct impression that he wanted more than anything to leave. Wasn't he the one who wanted to come here? Maybe the picture of tranquil domesticity that Stark made had him feeling uncomfortable.
As Natasha went inside the house to catch up with Stark's wife, the three of them stood awkwardly on the porch. Rather, Scott hung around awkwardly, and tried not to eavesdrop as the two men made what he assumed to be small talk. He wasn't very successful.
"Sorry we couldn't stay for lunch, maybe next time," Cap was saying, although Stark didn't seem to buy it.
"Next time? When's that, in another five years?" Stark smiled thinly, "You're a busy man, Rogers. Didn't even have time to come to the wedding."
Scott didn't miss the way Steve instantly froze. Clearly, he hadn't expected to be confronted with it so directly.
"Tony, I-"
Stark cut him off before he could begin. "It's whatever, Cap. Didn't expect you to care anyway. See ya." As if perfectly on cue, Natasha emerged onto the porch right as Stark made to leave. Just as Scott turned to acknowledge her, he saw Steve grab Stark's wrist from the corner of his eye. He desperately hoped it wasn't about to get ugly.
Natasha stepped across the threshold and took in the scene in front of her, but the two men barely noticed her presence. Stark seemed to have slapped off Steve's hand on his wrist. Making eye contact with Scott over the porch, she cocked her head as if to ask what the hell happened here? Scott could only shrug in response — he had no idea what any of that was about, and he had been present for all of it.
In the end, that had gone nowhere, so they had to make plans to meet with Dr Bruce Banner instead. Natasha took over the driving for the trip back to the compound, and her choice of conversation material was definitely…interesting.
"Pepper told me they've separated," she said casually, eyes fixed on the road. Scott could see Steve's rapid blinking even from the back seat.
"That's a shame," he finally replied after a few long moments of silence.
Natasha sounded extremely unimpressed. "Steve."
"You saw how happy he was." I don't want to take that away from him hung in the air, unsaid. "It doesn't have to mean anything."
Captain America is not honest all of the time, Scott mused.
4.
Unwilling as Scott was to admit it, the time heist had practically spelled out disaster from the start: from the untested quantum theories that had a largely non-zero chance of killing them all, to the painfully few number of Pym Particles that left no room for mistakes. It was only natural that the first few things that happened were a bunch of mistakes — he had been turned into a baby, an old man and wasted a Pym Particle. And somehow that hadn’t been enough of a sign that the trip was going to be a massive failure, because Scott found himself stranded in fucking 2012 New York with no one but Tony fucking Stark as backup.
Wasn’t that just lovely.
There had been an amazing moment when he almost thought the plan had worked, albeit a rather unflattering instant where he found himself tangled in 2012-Stark’s t-shirt and choked half to death from the copious amount of body spray he wore, but Scott knew he had seen 2023-Stark swipe the case containing the Mind Stone off the floor right as his 2012 counterpart let go of it. That was supposed to be it, mission success, meet-back-at-home-to-celebrate, yay!
Then the Hulk exploded into the lobby, and, well.
“You are my least favorite insect-themed super person, you know that?”
Back at the rendezvous point and stuffed undignifiedly into the back of a broken-down Sedan, Scott contemplated between throttling Stark and ditching him in 2012.
“Me? You were the one who couldn’t keep a tight enough grip on an infinity stone. Yeah, wow, it’s almost like it’s the only thing standing between us and certain doom, how important could it be-” Scott started, glaring daggers in the direction of the passenger seat where Stark slumped, “And spiders aren't insects. I’m the only insect-themed super person you know.”
“Yet you've still managed to be my least favorite. I don’t know if you missed the memo while you were stuck in candyland, but ‘certain doom’ already came five years ago; it’s a bit late for that. Also, I seem to recall your tone being nicer when you were literally pleading for my help on my doorstep, so maybe save some of the attitude for someone you don’t owe half of this mission to-” Stark cut in, earning a snigger from Scott before he’d even finished his sentence.
“Oh please, let’s not pretend like you would have even heard me out if I had been alone.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You hit your head on the way here, Lang?”
“I’m just saying, if it hadn’t been Cap that asked, you wouldn’t even have given it a chance.” Scott knew it was a risky thing to say, but the anger and frustration that burned in his stomach imbued him with the courage he needed to say it. He never got this— whatever this screwed-up thing was, and that was saying something considering his own flimsy relationships.
The words had their intended effect. Stark colored immediately, and launched into the beginning of what was sure to be a never-ending tirade, “Are you- Are you kidding me? You think this is about- what, impressing Steve? Jesus fucking Christ-”
“What, then? You’re telling me you guys went from hating each other’s guts to- to whatever this is, just like that?” Scott knew he was prying, but he couldn’t bring it within himself to care anymore. If they weren’t making it out of this trip with the stone intact, he deserved to at least know what he had spent three years under house arrest for.
“Hating each other’s guts- I can’t do this with you, let’s just sit here and contemplate our individual failures in silence, capiche?”
Scott disagreed vehemently, but it didn’t stop Stark from ignoring him in favor of examining the cracked windshield with great interest. He already knew Stark and Cap didn't exactly hate each other; if anything, they resembled more a couple of estranged exes than enemies who were forced to work together. Still, the exact nature of their relationship eluded him.
"You remember that kid from the airport?" Stark finally said, "Red and blue suit, talks a lot. Shoots webs?" Scott did remember — he had simultaneously been awestruck and a little freaked out at how durable that fluid had been. He also recalled seeing the kid on one of the screens that contained the profiles of the dusted.
"He was my, ah, he was my intern. But he wasn't supposed to be there, you know. At the airport, or in space when we fought Thanos," Stark waved him off when Scott's mouth dropped open at that, "Anyway. I kind of dragged him into this whole mess. Figured it's my responsibility to get him back."
Scott had an inkling that the kid — Parker, wasn't it? — meant a lot more to Stark than he was letting on. Despite the initially indifferent way he had dismissed them at the lake house, it was clear that Stark had lost people he cared about tremendously too. It was so wildly different from the image of the selfishly uncaring man that Scott had made up in his mind that he was taken aback with surprise. There was a gentler side under the unflappable Iron Man persona that he suspected people didn't often get to see.
"Must've been some intern," Scott remarked.
"Yeah. Though having Cap on your side certainly helped your case, I definitely trust him more than I do you," Tony smiled, a small, fond little thing that Scott couldn't quite place. He couldn't even bring himself to be mad at the latter part of the sentence. "God knows no one can stop him when he really wants something done." His voice had gone soft, but the affection there was impossible to hide.
Scott once again got the uncomfortable feeling that he was seeing something he wasn't supposed to. Luckily, the subject of their conversation arrived just in time before it got awkward. Scott turned his attention back to the mission and heaved a huge sigh of relief when he saw the case Cap was carrying. Well, at least something had gone right. Still, the missing space stone was going to prove itself to be a problem — it was very much an all-or-nothing situation.
As Scott listened to Tony explain the unfortunate demise of their mission (and the stone with it) to Cap, he watched the captain's reaction closely. The version of him from the airport battle would have expected the two to start arguing over the failure of the mission immediately, but now he knew better. At the same time, he couldn't help but chime in with some timely jabs at Stark about how he pretty much lost their only chance at saving the universe.
Cap just sighed exasperatedly by the time they were done. Sharing the sentiment, Scott was ready to call it quits and or start yelling when Tony suddenly jumped out of the car with a maniacal glint in his eye. It was a visual that Scott was familiar with from Hank's brainstorming sessions. This was going to be nothing good.
"I got it! There's another way," Tony exclaimed. "To retake the Tesseract and acquire new particles. We'll stroll down memory lane. Military installation, Garden State." New Jersey? What the hell did any of this have to do with New Jersey?
Scott was royally confused, but Cap seemed to have gotten the memo instantly. "When were they both there?" Scott had no idea who he was talking about. Had this been discussed in the pre-mission briefings at all?
"…I have a vaguely exact idea." Somehow, Scott managed to power through the bewilderment and panic that was taking ahold of him to shoot them both an incredulous look. No way they were actually going to bet their whole lives on a vaguely exact idea, right?
"How vague?"
Scott had the niggling feeling that Captain America's famed ability for rational thought went straight out of the window when Tony Stark was involved.
The attempts at interjecting with his own concerns went largely ignored, the two stuck in their own little world and speaking a secret language that proved impossible to decipher.
He tried one last appeal. "Cap. Captain. Steve, sorry, America. Rogers." Ironically, it was Stark who turned to acknowledge him. "Look, if you do this, and this doesn't work, you're not coming back."
But there was no talking them out of whatever crazy plan Stark had concocted. The pair only had eyes for each other; it was like the rest of the world had faded away and they weren't currently in the middle of a literal race against time. Scott was about to yell at them to snap out of it and focus on the mission when all of a sudden, it was as if a switch had flipped in his mind, and everything was clear as day. The deeply personal nature of the war so many years ago. Natasha's jabs at them. The lingering touches and stares. Why Steve refused to go to Tony's wedding and why the latter minded so much. The unbearable fondness. It all made sense now.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
5.
Scott scarcely had time to contemplate the very much non-platonic nature of their co-leaders' relationship before the weight of the mission slammed back into him. Five seconds. That was all it had been. And somewhere lost in those seconds that could've been forever, Natasha was gone. Another one of them, dead. Scott wondered, not for the first time, how much this mission would end up costing them. The price had already been too high, but there was no other choice.
The urgency of the mission meant there wasn't enough time for a funeral, only a brief gathering by the water. They had been her family, and Scott was partially responsible for her death as the one who came up with the plan in the first place. He seemed to bring trouble everywhere he went. Even the prospect of snapping everyone back the next day couldn't raise the team's spirits — the compound was deathly silent, and Natasha's absence gaped like an open wound. The building was physically suffocating despite being equipped with what was likely the most advanced air-filtration system money could buy. He had to get out.
The lake had a kind of calming stillness to it even in the pitch-black of night, the only light source being a dim camping lamp perched on the dock. As Scott trudged further out, he soon realized he wasn't alone. Two figures sat by the edge of the water, the sound of their voices low but still audible from where Scott stood by the bushes. He could only catch sight of a glint of blond hair in the faintness of the light, yet it was all too easy to guess who the other shadow belonged to.
Curiosity might have killed the cat, but he was an ant, so sue him for listening.
He wasn't sure what he had expected to overhear. Post-mission analysis? Mushy romantic confessions? What he got was far more private than anything he could have imagined.
"Why didn't you ever reach out? Even Bruce came to the baby shower," Tony murmured. The hint of vulnerability in his tone was impossible to ignore, and the way it was said told of a question that had been pondered over and over a million times.
"I thought you didn't want to hear from me," came the simple reply, and Scott had gotten good enough at reading the man over the past few weeks to know he didn't mean it entirely. He wasn't the only one.
"That's bullshit. I told Nat to take you as her plus-one, but you always conveniently had something else that needed to be done," Tony scoffed.
A moment of silence, and then, "I was scared. Didn't know how to face you. Your happy life, cute kid…I didn't want to ruin it for you."
"I wanted you there." Tony bit out, "Pepper almost convinced me not to. Said something about not wanting to make it awkward, but she was just looking out for me. I probably should have listened to her more, maybe I would still have a marriage. I went ahead with it anyway, and you never even showed." His voice turned bitter at the end, as if finally allowing years of repressed emotion to escape.
"Tony, I'm sorry-" Steve started, but Tony beat him to it.
"If this is about my inability to maintain long-term relationships, don't bother. It had been a long time coming, and she always knew what I needed before I did, anyway."
It was at that moment that Scott came to the realization that the two of them, on whom the fate of the entire universe hung, might actually be fucking stupid. Love really did make people dumb. He felt deeply sorry for what Natasha probably had to go through watching this play out over the years — they obviously loved each other, but were completely clueless that it was mutual.
"I wrote you more letters after the first one," Steve suddenly said. "Nat tried to get me to send them as a gesture of peace, but I was afraid. Why do I always seem to be afraid when it comes to you? I was scared that by telling you about Bucky and your parents, we'd lose what we had spent so long building. And now it's lost anyway."
Scott had never really spared a thought for whether Captain America could be scared. He was always the first to charge into battle, the one to make the difficult decisions, the one who bore the weight of the world. Fearless, always. How often was it that the man admitted to being afraid? Possibly even rarer than Tony Stark conceding he was wrong, he thought wryly.
"It's probably for the best that you didn't send them," Tony replied lightly, "I know I said resentment is corrosive, and all of that, but for a long time it was all I held on to. Talked a lot of shit behind your back too." Steve chuckled, but Tony carried on, "No, really, there was this one time a few years back when Bruce and I got really drunk building his new lair and I pretty much spent the entire night talking his ear off about how horrible you were. Probably spilled all your secrets too."
Scott pointedly noted how he had chosen not to respond to the latter part at all. Perhaps Tony was scared too, in his own way, and what was lost likely wasn't as far gone as Steve had made it out to be. Deflection was a common enough coping mechanism.
Steve, as it turned out, was content to let it slide. "So if Bruce secretly hates me now…"
"No, if Bruce hated you, you'd know." They both laughed at that, as if both were recalling an age-old inside joke. Scott was almost used to it. "Besides, there's no one you can't charm with that aw-shucks face of yours. That's how you're in everyone's good books, you get them with those eyes."
"I don't know about that, you've always been rather immune."
The tension that Scott thought had dissipated when Tony returned to the compound came back in full force. The air was thick enough to cut with a knife, but deathly silent outside the sound of leaves rustling in the cool night breeze.
Nobody said anything for what felt like an eternity, and Scott caught himself involuntarily holding his breath when Tony finally made a show of turning his head to look Steve straight in the eye. "I think we can pretty safely say that that's not true."
The words hung in the air between them, like they would be tangible enough to touch if only they tried. And by God did Scott want them to try; he had always been a sucker for romance movies. Still, Steve remained quiet despite all of Scott's silent begging for him to open his mouth before the pseudo-confession fell flat onto the ground.
"Did you know Lang accused me of coming on this mission solely for your sake? Psh-" Tony started right before the moment inevitably turned awkward, and Scott was so caught off-guard at the mention of his own name that he almost fell into the flowers after his knees went weak. Dropping into a crouch, Scott found himself praying to every deity he knew that Cap's enhanced hearing hadn't picked up on his little commotion. Apparently he need not have worried, because Steve's attention was all on the man in front of him; Scott suspected that a giant meteor could have struck the compound and neither of them would have noticed.
"Did you mean that? After everything?" Steve finally asked. Scott had never heard him sound so hesitant in his life, and he'd spent a not insignificant amount of time with the man. He could even understand what really simmered below those words, now. Do you not hate me anymore? Do I have a chance?
Tony sighed, exasperated. "What do you even want me to say, Steve? Yes, I spent all of my adult life and a large chunk of my adolescence being hopelessly attracted to you. Still am. Probably will be for the foreseeable future. Natasha probably knew. Fuck-" he swiped a hand over his face as it all came rushing out in a single breath.
Even from a distance, Steve's flinch at the mention of their fallen friend's name was evident. Somehow, it also seemed to be exactly what gave him the boost of courage to square his shoulders and open his mouth. If not for the torturous pining he had already endured for ages, Scott might have found it rather hilarious how much Steve acted like he was preparing for battle. "She told me, uh, before we went to your house, she told me that I should tell you how I felt." Tony visibly stiffened at that, his posture going from relaxed to rigid in an instant. "I know the mission's dangerous, and losing Nat today, it was- We could die tomorrow, and I've already had enough regrets to last me two lifetimes. If I don't make it back, I want you to know that I'm sorry for everything, and that I lo-"
Before he could finish, however, Tony clapped a hand over his mouth, much to Steve's chagrin. "Don't say that. There is no if you don't make it back," Tony said fiercely. "We're all gonna come back, you hear me? We're all gonna come back, and then you'll tell me, and then you're gonna buy me the most outrageously expensive dinner afterwards. There is no acceptable scenario where we don't make it out alive, you understand? I refuse to be the last call before you put the plane into ice. This is gonna work."
Steve gently lifted Tony's hand and settled it against his cheek instead. "Okay, Tony. Afterwards." He was smiling now, a genuine one, not the kind he sometimes made after rousing speeches to boost morale.
"You have to admit your track record of saying life-changing things before something goes horrifically badly is not great." Tony quipped, "Let's not jinx it."
Still, when Steve leaned in to brush his lips tentatively against Tony's cheek, the latter did nothing to shy away from it. And if what was supposed to be a brief kiss lingered, no one else had to know.
+1.
Scott was sad to say that he did not get to witness in person what was possibly the greatest love confession of the century. The sheer amount of administrative work that had to be done in the aftermath of a massive alien invasion was frankly astonishing, and he had been signing documents confirming his immediate admission to the Avengers from the moment he opened his eyes as a normal-sized man in an unfamiliar hospital bed
(Yes, he had passed out sometime after the aliens started turning to ash. Being giant-sized was draining.)
And then came the interrogations by the government agents, which were promptly followed by what felt like a press conference assembling right outside his room. The best part, though, was undoubtedly getting to see Cassie and Hope again. Oh God, Hope. She was back. Even Hank was more tolerable after his brief absence.
"Did we lose anyone else?" The question he dared not ask finally slipped out after the bright glare of the sun gave way to the soft glow of twilight. The hospital room had cleared at long last, with only Hope sitting by his bedside while Cassie was curled up on the couch after an exhausting day
Hope shook her head. "No one major." Scott heaved a sigh of relief, unable to put his finger on how he had already become so attached to the rest of the team despite having only worked with most of them for the better part of two weeks. "Stark came pretty close though. The wizard had to do a thing with the green stone to keep him alive, but last I heard he's doing pretty well in Wakanda. Everyone else is mostly still here in New York, though."
"Steve?" He couldn't help but ask.
"Cap? Since when are you guys chummy like that? He's in Wakanda too." She raised an eyebrow at the way his lips quirked up in a knowing smile. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing at all."
A few months later, Scott found himself being summoned to the rebuilt Avengers compound by General Ross. The last time he'd seen the man was from the inside of a prison cell, so he thought he had some right to be skeptical.
The new compound was constructed only a few miles away from where the old one still laid in ruins, but maintained the same sleek exterior. It was honestly surprising how fast they were able to put it all back together, especially the insides, which had undergone major design changes from how Scott remembered it. Instead of glass decoration and sharp edges, there were now plush beanbags and lived-in couches (apparently Thor had dragged it in all the way from New Asgard. Jury's still out on whether it was going to be a permanent fixture). Not that anyone could mistake the compound for what it was, though; the gym and training grounds hosted enough gear and equipment to train a small army. According to Sam, who showed him around the new place, almost half the team were based out of the compound now.
"Didn't know they had Captain America giving tours now," Scott joked, eyeing Sam's shiny new uniform with only a little jealousy. "Budget cuts?" Truth be told, the Avengers' current relationship with the US government was still rather strained despite having literally saved the world. They had been praised to the heavens when everybody came back of course, but it only took a few months for old foes to come knocking, Ross included. Bringing his ungrateful ass back from ashes wasn't enough for them to be left alone, apparently.
"For old times' sake, mostly. And because I was the last to get here. I'd pay you to repeat what you said about the team running out of budget in front of Stark though," Sam snickered, steering them down a hallway with the ease of someone who had lived there for years.
"Stark's here? With Ross?" For some reason, he had been under the impression that the man was happily retired; it was apparent now that even such a terrifyingly close brush with death wasn't enough to keep him away. If Scott wasn't already convinced him and Steve were a sure thing, he would have thought that Tony was purposely flirting with death.
"I wouldn't use the word 'with'. Anyway, here we are." Sam opened the door to a room at the end of the hallway. Scott found himself in a large conference room with the usually boisterous team sitting in a jittery silence that was typically reserved for life and death situations. Which it was, in a way. Ross's pompous, self-assured ass was settled at the head of the table with a stack of official-looking papers sitting in front of him, the space next to him left deliberately empty for Sam to slide into. Scott almost felt sorry for him as he took his own seat near the back of the room — surely being the leader of the Avengers has to be exhausting enough by itself even without this bureaucratic bullshit.
A quick glance around the room revealed that he was surrounded by mostly familiar faces, though Nebula and the rest of the aliens were notably missing. Ironically, it was almost the same lineup that had torn up the German airport so many years ago, sans the spider kid. Most looked suitably nervous, Rhodes drumming his fingers against the table agitatedly and Wanda giving off the strong impression that she'd rather be anywhere than in the room, even Nat (who had miraculously been portaled unharmed onto the battlefield at the end) appeared twitchy. Tony, playing the role of the bored sponsor effortlessly, had his head resting on his fancy new red and gold prosthetic that hadn't been there the last time Scott dropped by to visit, like he was about to doze off any second. Still, Scott understood him well enough by now to know how important this was, and that below those million-dollar sunglasses was a man possibly sharper and more alert than the rest of the room.
Next to him, Steve Rogers cut a formidable figure and looked like he was trying to kill Ross just by glaring at him. The juxtaposition was almost funny
The General elected to ignore the way the Avengers' ex-leader was shooting daggers at him and shuffled the papers on the desk before clearing his throat. "As you might know, the world has been saved." At that, someone let out a loud snort somewhere in the room. "However, the matter of super-powered regulation is not only for wartime. It's equally important that we all be on the same page about your…abilities, and the perimeters of this team's operations. We might not have agreed on this a few years ago, but now I'm willing to offer you a do-over." Ross's lips twisted in a smile that showed very little teeth. "The Avengers will operate as a branch under the United States government's Special Forces unit. You go where we say, when we say, and in return, all your past transgressions will be forgiven. Water under the bridge."
Sam stood up immediately, mouth open in a rebuttal, but Ross held up a hand to cut him off. "This applies in particular to the Enhanced. That means Rogers, Maximoff, Barnes, and whoever Spider-Man is. If not, you will effectively be considered war criminals of the United States."
"With no due respect, the U.S. government allowed HYDRA to infiltrate one of its top-secret security agencies and fester under its nose," Steve spat, "Oversight is necessary, but certainly not by the United Nations, and even less so the United States government. There will be an independent board formed that the team will be accountable to, but no government will be part of day-to-day Avengers operations. And we most definitely will not report to you."
Ross blanched, "How dare you, Rogers! This government made you what you are, we own you and your body and the serum-"
"Actually," Tony cut in with a drawl, "Steve is his own person. And anyway, since I'm the only living heir between Dr Erskine and my father, if anybody were to own his body, it would be me." Shocked gasps sounded in the room, and Scott could see Steve turning a spectacular shade of scarlet.
"Well well well, wouldn't your buddy here like to know about how you called me here to specifically discuss the Accords then, hmm?" Ross turned on Tony, lip curling into a snarl. Despite all that had happened earlier, Scott still felt his body tense up. Tony was the one who had called Ross? But even as the rest of the room turned to stare at Tony in shock, Steve's expression didn't betray a hint of surprise at the revelation.
"First of all, we called you here to inform you that you currently have zero authority to be poking your wannabe Pinocchio nose in Avengers business at all. Matter of fact, Sam here just spoke to the president yesterday about all the illegal under-the-table deals you've been making with contractors to afford that gauche mansion you've been parking your sorry ass in. He doesn't seem very happy about it, so you might find yourself out of a job very soon, in fact. Don't you know the first rule of doing shady business is to not do business with Justin Hammer? That idiot's got a mouth bigger than the Pacific."
The color was slowly draining from Ross’ face, "That's classified national security information-"
"Oh please. And you know I've got plenty more where that comes from. All I need is to ask FRIDAY to just do some digging into what you've really been up to during those Fiji getaways you've been so fond of, and I assure you you will be seeing the inside of the worst jail cell I can find for the rest of your life," he finished, a confident smirk dancing on his face that reminded Scott of the sharp businessman side of Tony he had seen on magazine covers.
"This is- this is blackmail!" Ross had gone completely white, eyes searching around the room for help. Laughably, he landed on Steve. "Come on, Cap, you can't be okay with this! It's not right!"
"I'm not Cap anymore, General. And you know what that means?" Steve said with a dangerous smile, "It means I can throw you out of this building right now without having to worry about consequences. And I will, if you don't get the hell out immediately."
Ross left pretty quickly after that.
Everyone sat in stunned silence before Wanda broke the silence, "So when you said he was yours-" The entire room erupted into chaos after that.
"Let me get this clear. So when you told me, 'Sam, I'm moving back to the city to help with rebuilding efforts,' you actually meant, 'Sam, I've decided to move into Tony Stark's townhouse because we are in love and dating.'" Sam seethed, "Dude, you let me congratulate you on finally landing an affordable place!"
Having moved back out into the communal area, everyone was sprawled out on the couches or across the floor. There was a movie playing in the background, but no one was really paying attention to it in favor of listening in on the gossip about their ex-team leaders' love lives.
A faint blush settled on Steve's cheeks. "It was new at the time!"
Both Natasha and Rhodes let out sounds of disbelief. "It was not new," Nat snickered, laughing like only she was privy to the joke. But now, yeah, Scott could see where she was coming from.
"You think you had it bad? Imagine being me for, say, the past ten years," Rhodes chimed in, doing an awful impression of Tony's voice,"'Oh my God, Rhodey, he's so annoying, his hair is so shiny and his eyes are so blue.' 'Is he going to call me? Should I call him?' It was just that, over and over again."
Tony let out an affronted gasp, "I do not sound like that." Nat was already reaching over to high-five Rhodes in a show of solidarity. "Seriously, did everybody know?"
Scott had to put his hand up for this one, "I mean, even I did." He thought it was best to leave out how he had overheard their conversation before the fight with Thanos, but even without it, their affection for each other was clear as anything. Steve groaned and put his face in his hands while Tony patted his shoulder comfortingly. At least they were being good sports about all this.
When it came time to leave for the day, everyone was reluctant to go; Scott found himself lingering by the doorway as Tony reminded everyone that it was Morgan's birthday party next week. He never imagined that he would be able to have all this, be part of a team and have his family together with him at the same time. It had been a difficult journey to get to where they were, and many more near-death experiences than he would have liked, but right here, right now?
Everything was exactly as it should be.