Chapter Text
Tony shifted in his seat, looking out the window as houses flew by. This was hardly the first time he'd been moved to a new home, but he still had the same feeling of nervousness. He wondered what these people would be like. They took in all of the at-risk kids, so they must be real hard asses, he guessed. Tony wasn't really sure what tagged him with that name, but it was in big red letters right next to his name on his file.
And, though he might not be a very strong reader, he understood enough to know that that wasn't normal. He’d seen other kid’s files, and none of them looked like his.
Still, it'd be nice to get away from the group home they'd locked him in the past month while "transitioning." Adults had all kinds of code names for things--most of which Tony understood through context. That one, however, was on the short list of words he had yet to crack.
"We're here." The woman driving said, pulling up on the curb and pushing the gear stick into park. She looked around, dark face lined with disappointment before she opened her door.
Tony had been expecting a, "best behavior”, or some other reprimand. Instead, his social worker seemed to understand it wasn't needed. Or more, it wouldn't be adhered to.
Tony tried. He really did try to sit still and listen and not act out. But his body didn't always listen to him. And when it did, sometimes his head still wouldn't. Tony hated the looks he always got when his desk was eventually moved to the side of the room to face a wall, always within the first week of starting a school.
"He's a disruption to the class," the teachers would say. Tony's head would be hung low, the same words repeated over and over again at every location.
This time, he was determined to make it different. He'd be so good he'd wipe everyone off their feet! He set his face with a strict look and opened tge car door.
The social worker didn't offer her hand as they walked up to the door or the decent sized house, and Tony was glad. He wasn’t some little kid that needed to be escorted everywhere. And people he didn’t know were not allowed to touch him.
Well, he did know the social worker. Her name was on the top of every file about him ever. She'd been there from day one, taking Tony from home to home and all of his school meetings when he'd get in trouble and the foster parents didn’t want to deal with it. But he didn't like her. She was always cross with a stern look across her face, never tempted to change when Tony tried to smile at her.
The woman wasn’t the embodiment of kindness, either. Her face held a permanent frown, wrinkles showing she had no intention of smiling any time soon. She wore old clothes, too. They almost looked worse than what Tony wore, and had their own shade of tattered and gross.
Tony never really talked to the woman, and she rarelt adrrsses him. Instead, they had settled on an agreement of silence to not bother each other.
The door swung open to a well built man with blond hair and an all-American smile dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with a three letter word Tony couldn’t read. Tony thoughr he kind of looked like a cartoon character with the way he stood, one hand on his hip with his legs spread just far enough apart to mark a classic Superman stance. All he was missing was the cape.
"Hey guys," he smiled cheerily.
The social worker nodded a hello and pushed Tony through the door with a hand on his back, sending a fresh spike of pain through his abdomen. Tony knew better than to push the hand away,but he hated the way he was always being shoved around. No one seemed to notice he had two legs and could walk just fine.
The blond man closed the door and smiled as another built man with long black hair tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing nurse scrubs, the light blue kind, and they had no flattering qualities to the man’s skin tone. Tony held back a laugh as he thought the man looked like he’d been shoved into girl’s clothes.
"Buck, you want to gather the kids?" The blond asked.
The dark haired man--"Buck"--took a look at Tony, then nodded and walked up the stairs.
The blond man led them into what looked like a living room and asked for Tony to take a seat.
The room itself looked straight out of a “Better Homes and Gardens,” decorated and honey in a way Tony didn’t think a real house could be. The gray couch looked soft and plush, and off in the corner, Tony could almost spot what looked like a toy bin.
Tony hesitated, unsure if this was a test or not. He'd been in homes where he wasn't allowed to touch furniture half as nice as this. Plus, his clothes weren't exactly clean, and neither was he. The group home didn't have many rules about hygiene, not that the staff would have cared enough to abide by them. But the showers were always cold and he had to pay the older kids to gain access to them.
But, when the man took a seat on the other couch, Tony took a chance and followed. It was a few moments of silence and Tony trying not to jump out of his seat that brought four more people into the room.
“Buck,” stepped off of the stairs and into the living room, followed by three kids, none of them older than twelve. The first was a boy with short black hair and a chiseled face. It was kind of weird to see on someone so young, but he was tiny, like a walking twig dressed in a purple shirt and jeans. He was picking at his ears, too, seeming to nervously rub them.
The other one was a girl with long red hair and a sharp face. She glared at Tony, making him shift in his seat. She wore a shirt with flowers on the front, but Tony wouldn't let that fool him into thinking she was dainty.
The last one was another boy, younger than Tony. He hand longer, curly hair that fell into his soft face. Only once did Tony catch the boy's amber eyes before the fell right back to the floor.
"Okay, now that we have the whole crew here, I believe it's time for introductions." The blond man smiled, letting everyone take a seat. "First off, I'm Steve and this is James. Bucky, if you'd like."
Steve pointed to each person in turn, naming the older boy as Clint, the girl Natasha, and the youngest as Bruce. Tony bit on his lip, trying not to comment as he wanted to.
"Everyone, this is Tony, the boy we've been telling you about." Steve seemed much more pleased about Tony's presence than the rest of the family.
It was awkward to sit there in silence. But, Tony wasn't really ever happy to just sit. And silence made his “wiggling” worse. Finally, Steve seemed to have picked up on that and let everyone go back to what they were doing. Natasha took Bruce's hand and Clint followed them up the stairs.
"Do you have a bag with you?" Steve asked.
Tony shook his head no.
Steve seemed to dislike that answer, but simply took a breath and held a hand out for Tony.
“Thank you for dropping him off; I think we have it from here.” Steve said to the social worker.
She simply nodded, sending Tony a look he couldn’t quite decipher before grabbing her bag and walking towards the door.
“Let me show you your room,” Steve said, hand still out-reached.
After a moment and some wiggling fingers, Tony reluctantly took the hand and followed the blond man up the stairs.
Tony took note of the layout, finding the four-bedroom house oddly shaped. Natasha's room was right by the stairs, what was clearly Clint's room sharing a bathroom. On the other side was a large, open room with a massive bed in the middle. Next door was the room that Steve led Tony into.
It wasn't small by any means, but it definitely wasn't huge, either. In both corners sat a twin size bed, the one on the right sporting a green cover with a picture of some weird cartoon character permanently smiling. On the left side was a small night stand with a few children’s books stacked on the bottom, and a simple tinted shade lamp on top.
The other side had nothing more that a blue bed spread over light gray sheets, neatly made with military precision, and a dark wood night stand with nothing on it.
Between the two beds, in the middle of the room, sat a large carpet designed to look like a city. The roads winded through small paths between buildings, even going so far as giving parking spots to each building.
"This will be your bed." Steve smiled, walking in and straightening out imaginary creases on the far bed. Tony followed, not sure what to do with himself.
"I'm sorry you have to share with Bruce, but he isn't loud and I'm sure he won't bother you."
Tony nodded, just appreciating the fact that he didn't have to share a bed. And the fact that he had a bed.
Steve stood around for a second more before smiling and walking towards the door.
"I'll let you settle in, then." He smiled over his shoulder. With a nod of his head, he was out of the room.
Tony let out a breath of air, flopping down on what was now his bed and staring at the ceiling. This house was about as weird as the people living in it. And why did two men just decided to tag-team raising a bunch of foster kids? None of it made sense.
"So what's your deal?" A slurred voice asked, breaking his train of thought.
Not that Tony really had a train. One of iis teachers had called it a hummingbird. “Constantly going and never staying in one place for long.”
Tony sat up, looking toward the door where the other three kids stood defensively. Man, he headed initiation games more than switching homes. He really wasn't in the mood to play alpha-dog. And fighting on the first day didn't seem like a great way to start his “best behavior” thing.
"I'll only be here for a few months, tops. There's no need for you guys to do this." Tony said, standing up. He was an uncomfortable head shorter than the older, but taller than the younger one by quite a bit.
He knew from past experience he was worth nothing but shit in a fight, but that wouldn’t stop him. When he moved to take stance, though, he was reminded of the sharp pain in his chest.
"We don't care about that." Clint said, making himself at home as he leaned against the door-jam, still holding the younger boy’s hand. "Why don't you have any clothes with you? And how'd you end up with the red word? You can't be any more than a three, tops."
Tony rolled his eyes. The numbering system for at-risk kids was the stupidest thing on earth.
"Four." Tony said, eyeing the older boy. "But not for anything like you think."
Natasha gave him a once over, then seemed to be disinterested in the whole thing and left for her room.
"What about your clothes?" Clint pushed on.
Tony looked down at the only t-shirt and pants he now owned, snarling. "They were burned a week ago by the kids at the group home. They didn't like me much either. So, if you want to take something of mine or break it, you’re fresh-out of luck"
Clint's expression softened, and his eyes turned down. "Everyone in this house has been there," he said, looking back up.
After a moment, he took Bruce's hand and walked away from the room.
Tony wasn't sure what just happened, but when he turned to take a seat back on his bed, there was another knock on the door. Clint stood once more, watching as Bruce walked toward Tony with outstretched arms.
"Take them. He won't leave until you do." Clint said.
Tony looked back down at the young boy, catching a small glimpse of his dark brown eyes before the shot away. Tony took the folded shirt and shorts, nodding a thanks as the boy retreated to Clint.
"Take a shower and clean up. You'll feel better," Clint advised, walking back away from the room.
A glint of light flashes off the older boy's ears, making Tony look a little closer for a second. And then he realized what it was: hearing aides. Clint was deaf, or at least hard-of-hearing.
Tony had only met one other kid with hearing aides, and he hadn’t made it very long in the group home. Ont of the older kids had yanked her implant of of her ear and smashed it under his foot. He didn’t come back, either.
Suddenly, Clint’s sympathy touched Tony a lot more. He wasn't just offering Tony a shirt and pants, but a small glimpse of friendship too. He knew where Tony was coming from, and was offering help.
Tony smiled softly. Maybe there was a small possibility that it wouldn't be so bad here.