Chapter Text
As Stephen’s had the opportunity to observe these past few weeks, Tony has only two moods now. Both reflective of how good or bad the meetings with the Rogues go.
He either storms into the lab with an angry pout and dives into his ongoing engineering projects, alternatively storming into the Sanctum and glaring his way through a five hundred pages long ancient text about the mystic arts; not saying much while at it.
Or he storms the lab slash Sanctum, mumbling a hundred curses before being half-way through the door and spending the next few hours loudly complaining.
It’s quite the rollercoaster – especially since last week, he managed to do both in the same day. Morning meeting with the Rogues? Queue silent brooding. Afternoon meeting with the UN? Queue loud complaining.
While Peter already made a meme out of it, Stephen is only now catching up with it, realizing that this mood cycle is unlikely to break anytime soon. Not with the way this whole Rogues vs. the UN is going.
He sometimes wishes the Rogues tried testing their luck with running away from the Compound. This whole situation might have been avoided.
Alas, as the doors to the Sanctum fly open, letting the chilly autumn air inside, Tony storms in with murder written all over his face and the way he slams the doors behind him only means the two moods are only about to escalate.
“Unbelievable,” he utters and plops down on the other end of the sofa with enough force to make Stephen jump in the seat a little. “Unfuckingbelievable. Shit, is Peter here? Crap!”
“He’s not. With the way you’re talking lately though, perhaps we should extend the swear jar rules on anyone. You would be bankrupt in a week.”
“Fuck you and fuck the swear jar!”
“My point exactly,” Stephen smirks, settling back into the cushions and resuming his reading.
“And fuck this book, too!” he snatches it from his hands, glaring daggers at it. “I read that shit two days ago, it’s full of medieval witchcraft bullshit!”
He sighs, watching the fuming man. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse!” he flails his hands around, the book flying across the floor. “You know how I said this emergency plan is fucking fool proof and shit?! Back when we were setting it up in case the Rogues come back into town?! Well hoooooooooly shit was I wrong as fuck!”
“I told you, one wave of my hand and they are gone without a trace. Offer still stands.”
Tony closes his eyes, trying to compose himself with a long inhale and exhale. “Tempting. Very fucking tempting. But you see? It’s not like all of them are being difficult about this.”
“Ohhhh let me guess. It’s just Rogers and his tilted face.”
Tony nods. “Mmmhmm. No,” he keeps on nodding nonetheless. “Blair Bitch is… wait…his tilted face? What does that even mean?!”
He frowns, but keeps the smirk on. “Isn’t it obvious? He does the thing.”
“The thing? What thing?”
“Whenever his brain sounds the bitches are pulling my arm alarm, he tilts his head just a tiny bit to the side.”
“You mean pulling his leg?” he pouts and folds his arms.
“Doesn’t rhyme then.”
“Right. Sounds legit.”
“And the tilt intensifies when someone tries pulling Barnes’s arm, so there’s that. Seeing that his brain seems to make that conclusion twice every minute, his head is basically in perma-tilt.”
“Didn’t realize you paid so much attention to his tilting head?” Tony squints at him.
“There wasn’t much else to pay attention to. Not if you didn’t want me to send anyone to the Dark Dimension,” he shrugs. “Had to distract myself with psychoanalyzing Rogers’s face.”
“That’s why I’m not inviting you on any more of these. Even Fury could tell you were channeling your inner Voldemort after just five minutes.”
“Speaking of Fury, how’s he enjoying his new not-so-secret post?”
“Definitely a lot more than Ross is enjoying the Raft. Actually,” he cringes, “Fury might be enjoying this a little too much. He’s buying nobody’s bullshit – not the Rogues’, not the UN’s…he’s perfect for the job, but I swear he’s getting off on all the drama. The never-ending drama!”
“Then why don’t you let him handle it? You don’t have to be there.”
“Ohhhh but I do. It’s either me or Vision and I’m not throwing Viz into that melting pot of crap!”
“Bruce and Thor are back on the official roster, they could go.”
Tony shifts in the seat, turning entirely to face him, one leg folded up on the cushion. “You are still high-key set on getting the Rogues killed, aren’t you? Bruce would have let the Hulk trash the place by now and while Thor is more intelligent than anyone gives him credit for, his conflict resolving skills only include trial by combat! We’re not trying to start another war in here.”
“I understand.”
“But?”
“But I still think dropping Rogers into a portal and forgetting all about him will save everyone lots of grey hairs and years otherwise lost due to stress.”
“Is that your vengeful Lord of the Dark Arts speaking or is it the doctor? I can’t tell anymore.”
“I only have everyone’s best interest in mind.”
Tony nods, squinting at him again. “Everyone’s but Rogers’s.”
“Naturally.”
“What about the Wicked Witch of the West?”
He’s been thinking about that a lot. Not that he really wanted to spend his time and brain cells on Wanda, but as the Sorcerer Supreme he had little choice. At the end of the day, he is the one responsible for all practitioners of the mystic arts on Earth. Calling her a practitioner of anything at this point is quite a stretch though. She can barely control her emotions let alone her powers.
With a lot of practice and a good teacher, she could however reach her potential. Stephen is yet to decide if she deserves that chance.
It’s one thing being brainwashed by HYDRA and forced to work for them for decades and a completely another thing to willingly join them to become their tools of war. Everyone – Tony included – tries to downplay it all by saying she was young and troubled and had no other options. Stephen doesn’t buy that for a second.
Being a young, troubled teen is not an excuse to join an openly evil organization of murderers. Something him and Bruce both agree on.
Giving second chances is nice and all, the question is how many second chances does it take before it’s too many? And as far as he’s concerned, she had her second and third chance already.
“The option to take her to Kamar-Taj for training is open I suppose. I know she’s the UN’s biggest concern because of her volatile powers…she’s my biggest concern because of her mindset. We can tackle her powers, but Kamar-Taj is not kindergarten. If she won’t learn to respect rules and authority by herself and fast, then she’ll find herself on the streets of Kathmandu in seconds.”
“Hm. They say miracles do happen, so maybe she’ll make it.”
“You’re very optimistic, you know that?”
“That a bad thing?” Tony sighs, resting his head against the back of the sofa.
“No. Only when you expect an outcome…that objectively has a smaller chance of happening than winning a lottery. Twice. In one week.”
Tony shrugs, his strained features relaxing into a smile. “Guy can only hope. Anyway. Where’s Wong?”
“Upstairs, identifying a mysterious and undoubtedly dangerous relic someone brought in this morning,” Stephen whispers, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Ahhhhh. Is it just as mysterious and dangerous as the hexed brown box from last week…that turned out to be just a Mc’Donald’s burger thermo-box painted brown?”
“It is quite possible, yes,” he smirks this time.
“Okay. Whatever. I don’t wanna be a part of your mystical prank wars. Does that mean you’re free this afternoon?”
“Afternoon, night and considering the complexity of that particular relic, I’m thinking morning as well. Why?”
Tony mirrors the smirk and suddenly hauls himself up from the sofa. “Peter has plans.”
“When doesn’t he have plans?” he rolls his eyes.
“Exactly, so you’re in or what?”
“Wha…I’m…I’m in I suppose, but what are the plans?”
“No idea. It involves dressing casual and warm, that’s all I know. Meet us at his place in an hour?”
That doesn’t sound suspicious at all. “Uhhh…sure.”
“Awesome! Later, Beer witch!” Tony beams and all but dances out of the Sanctum, his previously shit mood completely forgotten.
“Huh,” Stephen muses, an estranged feeling of nervousness taking root in his guts.
Little over an hour later, he’s standing on the crowded parking lot near the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in New Mexico, staring at the giant space ahead that transformed itself from nothing to a hot-air balloon airport.
“Can’t say I’ve ever been to Albuquerque before,” he utters, looking around with a note of confusion. “Or seen this many hot-air balloons in one place.”
“Isn’t it awesome?!” Peter exclaims, grabbing onto Ned. “DUDE! We’re taking that one!” he points to the Star Wars themed balloon.
“Cool,” Ned nods and the two of them get a head start, speed-walking towards their chosen vessel.
“Guess we’re flying hot-air balloons,” Tony shrugs and sounds almost too innocent about it.
“Haven’t done that before either. Looks…fun?”
“That’s the spirit!” Tony clasps his shoulder and leads them after the teens. “Let’s avoid the Avenger-themed ones,” he cringes, nodding to the side.
“Hm? Oh. Oh. Those look…”
“Disgusting.”
“Funky.”
“Kinda creepy, too,” Tony shudders, his gaze lingering on the truly creepy, cartoon version of Thor. “Good thing I’ve got my eyes on that one,” he smirks, pointing at another balloon.
“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Stephen rolls his eyes, stifling the rippling chuckle. Standing there might and proud is a Stark Industries balloon…only the ‘r’ in Stark is crossed out and replaced by an ‘n’ and the boring gray background is splashed with red and gold.
Clearly a work of an unknown prankster.
“I thought these were Peter’s plans,” he squints at Tony.
“They are,” he replies without a pause and sets off toward the Stank balloon. “Have fun, kids!” he calls after Peter, who waves at them and either Stephen needs glasses or that there was a wink as well.
“Right,” Stephen nods, walking alongside Tony, not believing him for a second.
Half an hour later, they’re up in the air and it’s just as he thought – fun. A bit cold and windy, but with the Cloak on he barely feels it. And Tony is definitely in the clear with the leather jacket, a fancy scarf and aviator glasses. Like ten out of ten in the clear. How is he supposed to focus on the view?! Of the landscape?!
“Peter’s doing some radical flying over there,” Tony chuckles, pointing at the Death Star balloon.
The kid apparently persuaded the operator to let him do the steering for a bit and now the balloon is gliding over the horizon in crazy circles.
He echoes the chuckle and joins Tony in observing the out of control vessel. Unlike Peter, Tony is keeping their flight rather calm and smooth. He took over the whole operation, all but kicking the guy that was supposed to pilot them out with a teasing “I’m Stank, I don’t need a pilot”. And he sure doesn’t.
Stephen finds his eyes flicking over to him without really meaning to. There’s no helping it. The serene expression that has made its way onto Tony’s face is such a huge contrast to his lately perma-stressed one, that Stephen dares not look away. He looks so…happy.
The thought alone brings a giant smile to his lips, one he cannot get rid of even as they make a final round in the flight area and land back on the plateau.
“Well, that was fun,” Tony grins as they’re joined by the two ecstatic teens.
“This was the BEST idea, ever!” Peter agrees, eyes wildly looking between Tony and Stephen as if watching a tennis match.
“Yeah! Too bad that old guy didn’t let us land the balloon, too,” Ned pouts.
“Uhhh…if you would have landed the thing the same way you were piloting it, I don’t think you can blame him for that. I could almost hear him praying when he let you take over,” Tony teases them.
“NAH-UH!” Peter argues of course. “It would have been fine!”
“Sure,” Tony placates them, pursing his lips to hide the grin.
“It would!”
“We believe you. Right?”
“Why of course. It would have made for a spectacular landing. Nothing short of the Hindenburg kind,” Stephen joins in the teasing match, making Peter groan.
“Hindenburg wasn’t a hot-air balloon,” Peter pouts.
“Which is a shame, really,” Tony comments, leading the group over to the souvenir stands. “It wouldn’t have burnt down if it had been just an air-filled balloon.”
“It wouldn’t have burnt down if it hadn’t ran into bad weather,” Stephen points out.
“And if the hydrogen hadn’t leaked out.”
“Or if they hadn’t grounded the whole thing with those wet ropes.”
“Someone knows their Hindenburg,” Tony smirks. “Shouldn’t expect any less from a fellow Pi-remembering geek. But seriously, building an aluminum construct and then filling it with hydrogen of all things, that’s just asking for trouble.”
“History is filled with cases of human stupidity, which is what makes it so fascinating.”
“Fascinating in not the word,” Peter mumbles.
“Don’t mind him, he’s got a History exam incoming and he hates it,” Tony explains. “But I agree, fascinating is really not the word. More like annoying.”
“I suppose…then again, if our annoyingly stupid ancestors weren’t prone to make such obvious mistakes, human society would be developing at a snail’s pace. Learning from mistakes and adapting is what has gotten us this far. When you think about it, you only know aluminum construct plus hydrogen plus bad weather is a bad idea because of Hindenburg.”
“Uh, no. I know that because I have a brain, thank you very much.”
“If you think so,” Stephen shrugs, smirking.
“Are you doubting my genius?”
“And if I am?”
“Pffft. Then you’re not getting this sick souvenir for a gift,” Tony sticks out his tongue at him and picks up the cute-sized hot-air balloon off the souvenir shop table.
“Oh no…what am I going to do without it?” Stephen overplays the horror, earning a round of giggles.
Needless to say, they all get a souvenir in the end and move onto snacks.
They grab a hot dog and watch the still ascending and flying balloons until the sun begins to set. Stephen portals Peter and Ned home and joins Tony by the snack shop.
“Seriously? A milkshake?” he cringes at the gigantic cup Tony picks up.
“Don’t worry, got you an herbal lemonade,” Tony smiles, offering him a smaller cup with his other hand. “Didn’t ask what the herbs were so…yolo it.”
He takes it with a scoff. “You’re spending too much time with Peter…starting to talk in memes instead of full sentences. Old memes, at that.”
“Oldies but goodies.”
“Are you saying memes are like music?” he squints at him, taking a test sip of the lemonade. Not bad…for an herbal beverage bought at a questionable fizzy drinks stand.
“Ohhh yes they are. Even better, they’re like whiskey. The older they get, the better they are.”
“That’s so not how it works.”
“Are you going to listen to your meme heretic of a brain or me, the meme genius?”
“Is that another one of your self-proclaimed titles? Hm. You trying to top Daenerys?”
“I would most definitely top Daenerys, there’s no question about it. Better question is, who wouldn’t I top in Westeros,” Tony gives him a wicked smile and Stephen does not almost choke on the lemonade. Nope.
“Somehow I don’t think we’re both talking about the same thing here.”
“And you’d be right. The ancient and ever elusive question of toppings is as old as human kind and pizza.”
“Oh we are so not talking about the same thing.”
“Mmmmhmm,” Tony nods, sipping the milkshake with the grin turning even wider.
That spiraled into a completely different dimension of a talk real quick. And made his heart beat a whole lot faster, too. If Tony wants to play the flirty game, he can definitely indulge him. “Well, it’s not such an elusive question when it comes to me, Doctor Stark,” he wiggles his eyebrows and snatches the milkshake out of Tony’s hands, stealing a sip.
“Reaaaaally, Doctor Strange,” Tony replies with a pout after giving himself a couple seconds to reboot.
“Always. On. Top,” he spells out and hands him the shake back, his own grin growing.
Tony takes a long sip, his sparkly eyes never leaving his. “Noted. Now, let’s look for something that will pass for a dangerous magical relic!”
Stephen laughs and follows him. “Here I thought you wanted to stay out of our magical prank war.”
“I’m staying out of it, alright. Doesn’t mean I can’t contribute with…research. I do happen to know a couple of Wong’s weaknesses not to mention I posses a particular set of skills that makes me a nightmare for Beyonce loving wizards such as him,” he mimics Liam Neeson’s voice and that’s where Stephen knows Wong’s going down. “Besides…Peter might have plans next week…again…so we have to keep Wong busy.”
“And when you say Peter…”
“…I really mean I have plans, yes. You’ve got me, Sherlock. This has been my scheme all along! Next week, I’m thinking Oktoberfest.”
“Oktoberfest. I have never imagined you to be a beer drinker,” Stephen squints at Tony.
“I’m not. But when in Oktoberfest, do as the Oktoberfest does…or something,” he grins. “It’ll be fun…overpriced beers, dreadful German folk music, oh and we can mingle in with the locals, wearing those Bavarian folk costume thingies…since you’re obviously into dressing up, I’ll join in.”
He chuckles, imagining just how ridiculous the two of them would look in that get-up. “Oktoberfest…very well. It’s a d - ”
A date. It’s a date. A date. This is a date, too. They’ve been on a date this whole time and he’s just now figuring it out?!
“Got me again,” Tony stifles a laugh when he spots his stunned expression. “You’re really channeling your inner Sherlock today, I’m impressed. Was actually worried I’d have to do something radically obnoxious like…spray-paint all the balloons with ‘IT’S A DATE’…in capital letters. Or have the announcer guy shout it across the field. Or use fireworks to write it all over the skies but nope. You’re as perceptive as ever, Doc,” he smiles at him and it might just be the last straw for Stephen’s brain.
“I’m an idiot,” he blurts out, making Tony laugh.
“Nah. Theset-up was too good for our own good. Pretending it was all Peter’s idea – which it kinda was by the way, the kid is an absolute google machine and somehow managed to give me like ten different October events we could go to before FRIDAY even fired up her search engines. Then the whole theatre about the UN this morning – that meeting got cancelled by the way…but I enjoyed cursing all about it anyway. Bringing Peter and Ned along…it wasn’t all that easy to catch onto.”
“So…it’s a date,” he repeats, trying to wrap his misfiring mind around the concept still.
“Yep. If…you want it to be?” Tony frowns a little, the uncertain expression immediately finding its place among those Stephen has sworn to never ever have to see on Tony’s face twice.
“If I…if I want it to be?! Yes. That’s a yes. Yes I do. If I knew that’s what it was this whole time, I would be doing so much better than this PG rated crap,” he chuckles, echoing Tony’s words from way back when.
“Right,” Tony nods, the beaming smile still on. “Well, we discussed topping, so not all was lost.”
“Oh we would not have been only discussing it.”
“I bet…so uh…this is usually the part where aliens from outer space or dimensions come crashing down on our heads.”
They look up as if expecting the next big crises to literally fall on their heads – then again, Bruce kinda did that so nobody can blame them.
“Huh. Nothing?”
“Suspicious. Ask FRIDAY to be sure.”
“Fri?”
“I am not aware of any disturbances in the Force, Master,” comes her reply, making them both cringe.
“Don’t…just don’t.”
“Peter’s science club again?”
“Yep.”
“Hm. We can always extend the magical prank wars onto the kids,” he suggests.
“That’s…not an entirely bad idea. We can go over that later. Now…,” Tony’s smile shrinks into a simple, content upward tug of lips as he steps towards Stephen, “…are we gonna tempt fates and assume there’s no imminent villain incoming?”
Stephen looks down into Tony’s hesitant eyes and for once, his brain finally decides to shut up and stop spinning. “Let them come, I will throw them into the Dark Dimension faster than they can say Dormam - ”
The sentence melts away into Tony’s lips as they meet half-way and the world might as well be ending around them and Stephen wouldn’t care one bit.
Aliens, inter-dimensional invaders, gnomes, HYDRA…nothing matters. Nothing but the man he wraps his hands around into a warm embrace and continues exchanging chaste – and not so chaste – kisses in the middle of the crowded shopping area.
Everything is just…right. After all this time, everything feels right.
The stupid smiles they keep sending each other as they embark on to find the next dangerous magical relic. The lingering taste of the banana milkshake on his tongue and lips. The happily fluttering Cloak around his shoulders and the gentle hand wrapped in his the entire time until they part back in New York in front of the Compound with a kiss good-night.
When he returns to the Sanctum that night, Wong takes just one look at Stephen’s gob smacked, still stupidly smiling expression and doesn’t even find it in him to give him crap about the bogus relic.
“Ah hell,” Wong curses and whips up his phone. “Happy? We totally lost all the bets. Yes. Uhuh. Just now. No way, I’m not betting on that! There are some things I really don’t need to know! And I’m kinda broke now…damn you Rhodey,” he finishes the call with a content smile anyway and wraps a hand around Stephen, steering him up the stairs. “Come on you crazy wizard, it’s nap time. I’ll give you the scorching glare and lesson when your brain is actually functioning.”
“Hm,” is all Stephen manages and lets Wong guide him to his room.