Chapter Text
Tony tossed the wrench down on the table as he collapsed backwards onto the couch in the workshop. He was bordering on the level of exhaustion that could prevent him from even feeling smug about the improvements he'd made to the Quinjet's new engine. Which was to say, still not too exhausted to be annoyed that a single, solitary all-nighter (plus previous morning, afternoon and evening) was enough to make him bleary from sleep deprivation.
He didn't mind the now mostly grey hair, he could rock that, and he mostly didn't mind the wrinkles, science could fix that, but he did mind that, at a mere 63 years old, his stamina was starting to sack out in a major way. And he also minded that, more and more, he was the supply guy for the Avengers, rather than part of the front line. He enjoyed focusing on the tech. Superscience for purposes of saving the Earth and general badassery was always welcome in his tower, but he had to admit that some of the shine was starting to wear off. His new unofficial position on the team was shuffling him to the sidelines.
Especially annoying since Steve “Vaudeville” Rogers looked about 35. So did Natasha. Thor still looked about 25. Clint at least had the good graces to age like a normal human being, but he was still younger than Tony, and seemed to be barely slowing down. Oh, he'd complain about a knee now and then, but mostly he was still able to keep up. Bruce, out there in the wilds of the 3rd world, seemed to be aging, but the Hulk didn’t seem to be, so it was anyone’s guess how that would play out.
And that just left Tony, creaking his way into obscurity all by himself. Sure, Pepper wasn’t far off from him in age, but she had fallen off a lot fewer skyscrapers, which, it turned out, was not good for keeping one’s youthful flexibility. Pretty soon Tony wouldn’t be able to go out with the team at all. And between his needing to retire out of the Avengers and his son moving out, there wouldn’t be a lot connecting him to the tower and the other residents anymore. Or connecting them to him. Not the way they had been, anyways.
Enough of that. Time to focus on the new generation.
"Jarvis, where are we on the breakfast countdown?
"Ms. Potts is already in her kitchen, sir, as is young Mister Rogers. Your son is still in the shower. I expect he will be somewhat late to breakfast. You told Ms. Potts you would be arriving at 8am. it is currently 7:57am."
Tony leaned his head back against the couch with a stifled groan. "Jarvis. Reminders, please? There are no other clocks in here. You are the clock."
"You disabled unsolicited reminders until further notice at 4am this morning, sir. Shall I inform Ms. Potts that you will be late?"
Jarvis was a poor substitute for Pepper. He never knew when to ignore Tony’s instructions. Even after all these years and all those AI upgrades, Jarvis still insisted on listening to Tony the vast majority of the time.
"No, no" Tony rubbed his face "They've all seen me worse than this. I'm hardly even greasy. I'll just wash my hands and head down. If Pepper doesn’t like the grease, she should let me upgrade her automated cleaning service like I keep offering."
Tony headed over to the sink. He'd ignored worse fatigue than this for less worthy purposes, and he was sober, and barely hung over, so that helped. "I mean, what is she doing right now? She's probably hand making breakfast for Phil and Jamie, right? a CEO of one of the worlds biggest and best companies, mother of two, practically the mother of two more, and she's down there slicing grapefruit. That is not what I call a sensible division of labor." She didn't allow much in the way of house staff. One tower infiltration had been enough for her. Well, for all of them. He wiped his hands on the almost-clean towel. "Tell her I'll be down, Jarvis. Time to get my boy into college." One short elevator ride down a couple stories had him exiting the tower floor housing Pepper and the boys.
Pepper, fully primped for the day, looked up from the kitchen countertop where she was, sure enough, putting sugar on a grapefruit and sliding it in front of one of the empty stools. Jamie was already at the counter, tapping his spoon on it's surface with his head propped up on one hand, the very image of fifteen year old sulk in baggy clothes. Tony had to feel for the kid. There was no way he'd hit anything like 45 kgs. yet, despite Pepper’s top shelf genes helping him out. Her visible genetic contribution seemed to have mostly gone to coloration, rather than height. Just her and Jamie so far, even though mooching breakfast at the Potts apartment was a favorite pastime for at least half of the tower’s full-time residents.
"Morning all" Tony did his best to saunter, despite fatigue. Sauntering was a specialty. He could saunter while tired.
Pepper spared him a long-suffering look of irritation at his various grimes, and gave him a quick once-over with her eyes, an unwarranted sobriety check. Her voice was pleasant enough "Morning, Tony". Tony just raised his eyebrows to indicate his innocence of any knowing violation of health codes, and sat on one of the stools, leaving one seat empty for Phil.
Tony glanced at the still-sulking Jamie "Hey, kiddo, what's your problem? I would think this would be a big day for you."
At that, Jamie did look up "Me? Why? Phil is the one applying for college. Not me".
"Well, because,” Tony grabbed some toast onto his plate, "in not that many months, Phil will be leaving. Flying the coup. And that will leave you," he gestured with his toast, "an only child for the first time in your life. I've been an only child. Trust me, you'll love it."
Pepper sighed. "Tony, please stop talking like that. Phil is going to college. Not to Mars. He's not dying. And Jamie is not going to be an only child."
Pepper was clearly having a little trouble cutting the apron strings. Tony remembered college, parts of it. He was sure that, even if he'd had someplace to go back to, he never would have gone home once he was out. Phil’d made his desire for independence loudly and forcefully heard ever since he was fifteen. He’d had had nearly three years to get his point across. Jamie might not be an only child, but once Phil was gone and putting as much distance from himself and everyone in the tower as possible, he’d probably end up feeling like one.
Tony put down the toast, ignoring the small but sudden tightness in his chest. "Speaking of, where is Phil? Jarvis? I don't hear the shower."
"I'm here, I'm here." Phil stomped wearily into view. Despite being fully dressed, other than one missing shoe, and having clearly showered, he looked about as tired as Tony felt. One headphone hung off of his head blaring jazz, the other bud jammed in his ear. He nearly collapsed onto the stool between Jamie and Tony with a small “oof,” then a more controlled, "Where is everybody?"
Jamie poked his cereal "They all left because of your smelly shoe under the couch" Pepper looked pinched. The boys were allowed a certain amount of mess in their own rooms, but everything was supposed to be collected out of shared spaces before bed each night. She must not have noticed the shoe.
"Is that where it is?" Phil craned around, half upside down on his swivel stool, dark wet hair dripping on the floor, trying to see under the couch. "Oh" he yawned again and straightened up.
Pepper answered while pouring him some juice "Steve isn't coming by until after breakfast. I haven't seen Signe. Or Alma, actually, which I'm not thrilled about. Maybe you could go check on her when you and Tony are finished with your essay? And music off at the table, please." Pepper finally sat down to her own meal, sitting on the opposite side of the counter, facing them.
"Essay?" Phil sleepily managed to get out around a mouthful of cereal.
Tony patted Phil on the back "We're gonna finish up your college application essay today. I stayed up special. Get you your pick of colleges."
Phil swallowed his bite, watching Tony, fairly nonplussed "Oh. I finished it."
"What?" Pepper looked up at him "When did you do that? You told me last night you hadn't started it.”
Phil appeared mildly offended “Yeah, and you said I needed to get it done. So I did. I already sent off all the applications this morning. Sixteen of them."
Pepper wasn’t happy. "You sent them off? Without letting your dad or I look them over?"
"Jarvis looked them over." Phil answered irritably. Tony recognized that old "adults are so overbearing" face vividly from his own teen years. Which was odd because from his current vantage point he couldn’t actually remember a single instance of any actual overbearing adults having been around him in his teens. The closest he'd got had been Rhodey.
Tony cocked an eyebrow. "Jarvis looked them over? I don't remember Jarvis going to college. Jarvis, did you go to college when I wasn't looking? I'm not reimbursing your tuition."
Jarvis's voice had just the faintest edge of disapproval. "I reviewed Phillips essay, sir. I advised that the theories presented seemed sound, and assisted with the grammar, but I did mention that essay writing is not one of my more common functions." Phil gave the ceiling a mild glare, as if Jarvis had ratted him out.
"Well, Phil, good for you." Pepper said, trying to lighten the sarcastic mood. With both of them sleep deprived and snarking, things could get unpleasant quickly. She glanced at Tony with a look between a plea and a warning, ostensibly addressing Phil. "I'm glad you got it done."
Tony's brain took a second to catch up, proccesing yet another instance of Phil not needing him. He hated how those little things were so hard to wrap his head around, especially since there was nothing surprising about them. "Yeah. Good for you." He agreed vaguely.
On the other hand, if Phil screwed up the essay, he could end up at a second-rate college... "I don't know why you couldn't wait for oh, two hours, and get the opinions of people who actually got in to college, but-"
Phil glared fiercely. Tony usually liked that glare. It reminded him of Pepper’s glare, which was an object of rare sentimentality for him, but now he was getting it both from Phil and from Pepper, who presumably blamed him for ruining her tranquil breakfast before work. Unexpectedly, it was Jamie who piped up first.
"Why would it even matter? He's a super-genius. And part of the 'Stark Legacy'. It's not like he won’t get in. He'll get in wherever he wants."
Phil threw his hands up "THANK you, at least somebody has faith in my ability to organize words in my native language. I mean, I speak more languages than anyone in this tower. Except Thor but that doesn’t count. I think I can write one stupid little five page essay in English and attach a writing sample.”
Jamie rolled his eyes, apparently feeling less supportive than previously implied and not looking at any of them. "Right, and if he doesn't get in, you can always just build them a new dorm building so that they will."
Phil reached out one arm without any particular effort or speed and shoved Jamie most of the way off his stool. Jamie stubbornly wrapped his legs around the stools leg in response, keeping himself from toppling off completely, and grabbed at Phil’s arm, trying to push it off.
“Boys.” Pepper scolded. Phil let go of Jamie and went back to eating his cereal. Jamie straightened himself on the stool with a surreptitious glare at his half brother. Of all the things to tease Phil about, Tony had no idea why Jamie consistently chose money, other than the fact it seemed to get under Phil’s skin to an admittedly entertaining amount. They were fighting a lot lately, though, so maybe it was just as well that Phil would be leaving soon, and giving the little runt some room to grow. Tony tried again to convince himself that this would be for the best.
"Anyways." Phil continued "It's done. It's in. They're in. It's fine."
Tony finished off a piece of toast. "Ok. It's done. We'll see what happens." He tried to keep doubt and sarcasm out of his voice. Phil was a 'super genius', after all, just like Tony. And Tony was fairly sure he'd completed his own MIT application while sleep deprived and drunk. So it should be fine. He gave his best encouraging smile. Phil just poured another bowl of cereal indifferently.
Jamie interrupted the uncomfortable silence, “mom? When did you tell pop 'after breakfast' would be? I want to go check on Alma too.” There was a knock on the door, and Jamie wilted with an anticipatory grimace.
"Come in!" Pepper called
Signe ducked "her" head into the room, surveyed those seated at the table, and grinned. "Good morning!" He crossed the space from the door to the counter with a few long strides, changing from “her” default female shape to the male body Tony thought of as a better match. Her longer hair drifted off into little ripples of light, while her hips slimmed down and her shoulders broadened. Tony was still at odds with himself over who the strangest resident of the tower was- Thor, with his cape and hammer and cheesy Elizabethan speech even after 18 years continuously spent on Earth, or his recently gender-swapping, shape-shifting, occassionly blue, 194cm tall daughter/son.
Jamie perked up at Signe’s entrance, transparently relived that it wasn’t the other Rogers. Phil yawned again. Signe immediately began riffling through a cabinet. "Father always forgets to tell Jarvis when we run out of things. And we are completely out of Pop Tarts." He said, most of his arm disappearing into the cabinetry "I've told him he should go buy some more, if he wants any breakfast. And to pay you back for these. Oh! you have strawberry!" Signe pulled out a box and made himself comfortable on the counter next to the toaster with a plate and a settled sort of look. There was a perfectly good dining table with room for 12 not 3 meters away, but it pretty much never got used anymore.
Then his brow furrowed and he paused. "Wait, Strawberry?" He peered into the toaster suspiciously. "Ms. Potts, aren't you deathly allergic to these? Am I going to hurt you with the strawberry fumes?".
Pepper smiled "Good morning, Signe. And no, as it turns out, there are no actual strawberries in strawberry Pop Tarts, but thank you for asking. And please tell Thor he does not have to replace our Pop Tarts. I stock them for you, anyways. But are you sure that's all you want? I'm not sure Pop Tarts…even a box full...are the best breakfast for a growing...boy." She finished with only a slight wobble of uncertainty in her voice.
Signe grinned as four freshly toasted Pop Tarts made themselves available with a ping. " 'Boy' is fine, Ms. Potts. So is 'girl'. I only make those two" he pointed at Jamie and Phil with a pastry "call me a guy all of the time as vengeance. From anyone else, I don't care. I would especially never correct you. Oh, or you Mr. Stark."
Tony acknowledged the tacked on respect with a tip of his fork, then inquired "Sorry, vengeance?" He was pretty sure if Signe was actually out for vengeance there would be much worse things at play than some pronoun rules. Still. Didn't hurt to stay informed. And Signe was generally perfectly happy to provide any requested information, unlike some adolescents in this tower.
Signe sat up with defiant shoulders and a snarky grin "For pretending I was a weak helpless girl when we were small...before I learned to shift so well." Tony raised an eyebrow at that. Signe had only been able to sustain this kind of shift for about 6 months, but there had never been a time when Signe wasn’t easily the tallest and strongest of the tower’s four kids. He’d been the tallest person in the tower period for about the last 9 months.
“What she means", Phil clarified, "is that she's a bully who thinks it's funny to make us call 'him' a 'he' in front of other people when she's looking like a girl, because it makes us look crazy."
"He can be called whatever he wants to, Phil." Jamie stated disapprovingly, sitting up straight for the first time that morning to look his half brother in the eye with more reproach. "And she's not a bully. I mean he! He's not a bully. Damn." He slumped back again, aggravated with himself. Tony surpressed a smirk at Jamie’s good intentions and high personal standards. Adorable.
Signe just laughed and crammed down more Pop Tart. "Is Alma coming?"
"Nobody’s seen her" Phil answered, "Mom wants you and me to go check on her after breakfast."
"And me!" Jamie reminded hastily.
Pepper frowned, slightly "Jamie, your dad will be down here right after breakfast. I think you should stay and see him. You've hardly seen him since he got back into town four days ago."
Jamie immediately averted his eyes, glaring down at his grapefruit "He didn't ask me if after breakfast was a good time. Nobody asked me when I want to see him. He's here almost all day. Why do I have to see him right when I want to go check on Alma?"
Phil gnawed some fruit off his grapefruit rind, watching his brother. "He's got a point, mom. He's a little old for you to be making play dates for him." Ever the proponent of increased independence for teenagers. Jamie continued to glare at the fruit.
Pepper was trying not to be annoyed or worried. "I did not 'make a play date for him'. Steve just asked when would be a good time to stop by."
"Well, I can talk to him myself, later. Or he can talk to me directly, if he wants to make plans." Jamie said with iron-clad calm and no eye contact with anyone. He stood up, and brought his dishes to the kitchen sink. He'd hardly eaten anything. Pepper always gave him more than he’d eat. Signe slid off the counter while cramming an impressive amount of yet another Pop Tart in his mouth, and gathering up the rest of the box.
Phil took this as a cue and hastily drank the rest of milk in his cereal bowl, and stood up. "I'm done. I'll go check on Alma now." He headed towards the door, Signe and Jamie joining him.
Pepper sat up straighter, not pleased at the sudden end to her breakfast, trying not to look overwhelmed. “O-ok…I’ll see you boys after work. I'll be home for dinner. Have a good day." Jamie and Phil both managed some variant of "you too” before the door closed, and Signe managed a some what more enthusiastic "And you!"
Pepper gave a frustrated sigh and leaned back in her chair, putting her napkin on the counter. "And there they go."
"Yep." Tony polished off the rest of his toast. There was a long moment of silence as they both sat, lost in thought.
Tony frequently got the urge to talk to Pepper about their son moving out. He occassionly had at least managed brief conversations about the logistical side of it. And she had tried to bring up more of it with him a few times. The problem was that she seemed to believe Phil would still be theirs when he left, and Tony knew better.
In fairness to Pepper, she had better chances with Phil than Tony did. She was both the boys' unabashed favorite. She was just fond enough of Tony to think he stood a chance at the same treatment from their son. So maybe this didn't freak her out the same way it freaked him out. Maybe she wasn't losing Phil.
But she at least understood his position better than anyone else. Signe showed no signs of ever leaving. Alma was just a young kid. Steve wouldn't know what this was like for a few years yet. Tony was the only one loosing their child.This was probably why other people had friends. Friends who weren't damn near immortal superheroes who couldn't understand the plight of mere mortals like Tony. There was Rhodey, but the twins were barely older than Alma,
"Well." Tony prepared to get up to go, and the door knocked.
"Come on in, Steve" Pepper called back.
Steve came in, but stopped in the doorway at the sight of Pepper and Tony eating breakfast alone. His shoulders dropped, radiating disappointment. Well, good morning to you to, Rogers. Steve didn't sound surprised. "He's gone already."
"Flown the coop." Tony agreed, stretching.
Pepper looked guilty and tired. "He went with the others to check on Alma, Steve. I'm sorry,”
"You've been stood up. Sorry, man.” Tony added. Steve might not yet know what losing your kid meant, but at least he shared the experience with Tony of having your kid turn on you. Going from childish adoration to teenage disdain.
"He just left?" Steve now looked just about as lost and annoyed as Tony felt, which was a guilty sort of comfort. Steve finished entering the room, and shut the door behind him. Which meant it looked like he planned to stay for a while. Just fantastic. Because if there was anything Tony wanted to deal with today it was Steve’s practically ageless face and perfectly toned body as he fretted about the kid he wasn’t actually losing any time soon. On top of that, Steve was probably only two hours into his day and fresh as a damn daisy.
Pepper folded her napkin unnecessarily on her empty plate. "He wants you to talk to him from now on, instead of arranging things with me. I'm sorry. I should have kept him here but...it's been...just...that sort of a morning. I guess he sort of has a point. There's really no reason you shouldn't talk to him directly, as long as I know what’s going on."
Steve gave an open palm shrug "I would if I could ever reach him. He doesn't answer my calls. Or texts. Or emails. He's avoiding me for some reason." Which was no news to anyone. Jamie wasn’t even particularly subtle about dodging Steve anymore, grimacing openly whenever any father-son time came up. Jamie and Tony had Steve dodging as a common pastime, albeit for slightly different reasons.
“Ah, He’s 15?" Tony suggested helpfully, as Pepper roller her eyes at what she presumably considered tactlessness "What? Since when is that not a good enough reason to avoid your parents? It was always good enough for me." Tony pushed back from the table. Pepper was still looking disapproving. That’s what Tony got for trying to give a non-Steve-blaming reason. “Well, it’s the nicest reason I can come up with. Trying to be polite here." Steve looked at him more sharply. A look with both a warning and a question in it. And Rogers should have known better, he really should. Tony was far too tired and far too irritated to tactfully back down from a challenge like that. He could stand to blow off a little steam.
He spread his hands. "Well, you have to admit, he’s got a couple reasons to be bitter about you." Steve’s eyes narrowed, considering, maybe a little anxious, but not hurt enough to be a deterrent to Tony. "I mean, it has to suck for him, being Captain America’s runt." And now both Pepper and Steve stiffened. "Don’t give me that look. I’m just saying. He’s short. That’s not a secret. There are lots of secrets around here and that isn’t one of them." And Tony knew a thing or two about having a family legacy to live up to. Any idiot could tell that Jamie wasn’t going to be living up to the Captain America legacy. "Not like he hasn’t got many fine qualities" Tony amended graciously. Because he did. Jamie was a great kid. Anyone would be lucky to call him theirs. Tony would have given even 1/4th a chance. “I’m just saying, how many of those qualities do you think he attributes to you? But he knows where the asthma, height, and the heart trouble came from." Tony shrugged again, standing. "And he gets along with Pepper just fine."
That struck a nerve. Probably just a hair harder than Tony’s meant to. Which was fine. Steve drew himself up to his full and excessive height. “Well, I don’t think you calling him a runt is going to help with that." He stated, clearly defensive.
Which Tony wouldn’t, not in front of Jamie. Poor kid already had a complex, Tony wasn’t going to exacerbate it. "Call it what you want. My point stands." Tony headed towards the door, which Steve was blocking just by standing there.
Steve looked down at Tony sternly. “Still. I don’t want to hear that kind of language out of you, especially around him." And it wasn’t a threat or an order but it was damn close. Tony felt his shoulders tighten and his hands try to form fists, but he kept his posture loose. Rogers tried to moderate his tone back to reasonable, but missed the mark and hit condescending dead on. "You’re supposed to be his family. He doesn’t need to hear that coming from you."
What a load of bullshit. Jamie wasn’t Tony’s family. Jamie belonged to Steve and Pepper. Phil was the only thing connecting Tony and Jamie, and Phil was on his way out and Tony didn’t need any more reminders of that this particular moment. "Oh, fuck off, Rogers. You don’t get to give me orders off duty."
Steve just looked even more serious. "I’m not giving you orders, I just-" Steve cut off as Tony radiated you’re seriously going to try that? at him. Steve pretending not to give orders was on a short list of things that pissed Tony off more than Steve giving orders. "Ok, fine. You want to call it an order, call it an order. But don’t let me or him hear you call him that again."
"Well, in case you hadn’t noticed" Tony gestured behind him to the rest of the room, where Pepper sat, angry at them both "He’s not here."
Steve actually flinched. Because Steve may be on sure footing when he felt like he was defending Jamie, but didn’t seem to have many defenses against Jamie himself. And didn’t that just sum up parenthood?
He pushed past Steve, who numbly moved out of the way, and left the room before he had a chance to push Steve from flinching to looking actually distressed, because he couldn’t trust his mouth right now and could get into a real fight if he wasn’t careful.
Oh Fuck all of this. Tony was getting some scotch and going to bed.
* * *
Jamie headed towards the Barton’s door, stretching his legs to avoid being overtaken by Sig or Phil. On the one hand, he was pleased to have escaped another leave-it-to-beaver advice session with pop. On the other hand, now he was stuck with an over-tired, crabby Phil until he could get Phil to just go to bed. He really didn’t want to put up with Phil’s whining.
He knocked on Clint and Alma’s door, and was immediately rewarded with a high, girlish voice shouting, “Come in!"
Jamie opened the door as Phil pushed passed him into the living room, but Signe stopped just behind him, and started laughing. She changed back into her female form, like she usually did around Alma, so Alma wouldn’t feel left out. Jamie looked up where Signe was looking, and saw Alma, or at least several pieces of Alma, sticking out of various ceiling tiles. One thin, dark leg was sticking out of one tile, and her head and about 2/3rd of her torso were hanging out of another one, dangling upside down, braids swinging as she waved her free arm at them.
Despite the awkward angle, her voice was cheerfully reproachful. "Clint boobie-trapped the ceiling! He is the WORST parent I have EVER had!"
Phil wandered over to directly under where Alma was dangling, craning his head up. He reached up to poke her neck, just under the jaw, and she squealed and slapped his hand. Alma was extremely ticklish. Phil sounded distantly amused "Well, that’s a new one, Al. I’ve never seen you break 4 tiles at once before. Impressive."
"It was Clint!" She objected, grabbing Phil’s arm and pulling, trying to get some leverage out of the ceiling “He did this on purpose!" Phil pulled back on her arm, trying to wedge her free. While she was upside down right above him. Wasn’t he supposed to be a genius or something?
"Phil...she’s going to land on her head or yours if you keep doing that" Jamie commented from a safe distance. Alma was 12, but she had long, bony legs and he didn’t want to be caught under one if it swung down.
"Hm. You’re right" Phil took his arm back "Sorry, Al, looks like you’re stuck up there." He added, strolling away.
"Aaah! Phil!!" Alma flailed her one arm after him, squeaking her disapproval. Signe laughed again. Phil leaned against the table nearby, arms crossed, looking amused and utterly unhelpful. The table, on the other hand, could be helpful, and would whine about it less than Phil would.
Jamie looked at Signe "Sig, could you just pull the table over here? I think I can help her down if I can stand up next to her, instead of right under her, and then she won’t have so far to fall."
Alma smiled, "Thanks Jamie, thanks Signe. Nice to know somebody around here wants to help" Signe dragged the table under Alma with no difficulty, and held the table down while Jamie climbed onto it, trying not to step on any of Alma’s hair clips littering the table. Up close, this seemed more complicated. The ceiling tile had shattered unevenly, and the hole was just too small to get her through without scraping her up badly. He pushed one hand in past her back, and pulled, trying to widen the already ruined tile. It didn’t budge.
"What’s the prognosis, doc?" Alma enquired with mock seriousness.
"I think we need to do a tile-ectomy" Jamie answered. He pulled again, but all he got for his trouble was dusty fingers. This would take hours at that rate. He chanced a glance at Phil, who was now sitting in one of the chairs that had been gathered around the table. He was leaning back, one ankle on the opposite knee, still in one shoe, arms crossed, with no apparent intention of helping.
Jamie considered asking for help. But no, that’s just what Phil was waiting for. He toyed briefly with the idea of trying to make the help request sound like an order. Pop could sometimes get Tony to do things using what Jamie thought of as his "army voice". He busied himself for a couple more seconds, trying to work up the nerve to try it, and failing. Signe was also starting to toss Phil a couple if disapproving looks.
Phil yawned and settled further down on the dining chair, then spoke up "You know, most apes can use tools."
Jamie refrained from snapping back at him. Phil was just like Tony that way. He liked it when he could rile someone up. He tried to come up with something suitably snappy but unaffected, but Signe beat him to it. "Then go and get one, ape.”
Phil rolled his eyes, but got up off his chair, and went to the hall closet, where Clint kept most of his tools. Phil being Phil, he came back with some bizarre little laser-based tool, instead of a perfectly useable knife. A laser tool that Jamie had only seen a couple of times before, and that he had no idea how to work. He didn’t need to ask if Phil knew how to work it. He would. And Phil didn’t need to ask Jamie if Jamie knew how to work it. He wouldn't. Phil was the one that half lived in the workshop.
Phil climbed up onto the table next to Jamie and set to work on the tile, suitably far from Alma’s skin to be safe, and hunched over to keep from hitting his head on the ceiling. Within a couple of seconds most of the problem tile had fallen away, giving Alma the room she needed to squirm into a position that let her come down in a controlled, if not really necessary, flip. Jamie and Phil climbed off the table, and Signe put it back more or less where it had been, with Alma sitting happily on it, cross-legged.
Alma had various ceiling-dust covered cuts on her shoulders and ankle, and Jamie felt a flare of anger at Clint over it. He had no doubt that Clint had, in fact, boobie-traped the ceiling tiles, since he was also the one teaching her to crawl around in ceilings, climb the sides of buildings, and shoot various weapons. Couldn’t he just teach her to play baseball or something?
"Alma, your arm" he pointed out. It twisted his stomach up thinking about it, but Alma frequently just didn't notice injuries that weren't major. Mom said it wasn't strange, coming from some of the worst parts of a war torn state like Somalia, just like how it had taken her ages to get used to being able to eat whenever she was hungry, but he hated being reminded of that. Once she’d walked around with two industrial staples in her foot for hours without knowing it. It also made him a little jealous; he’d love to be able to ignore demands from his body like that.
She looked at her arm and shoulder. The cuts weren’t deep, but they were filthy, and one or two of them were dripping some. "Aw, my shirt" was all she said.
Jamie sighed "You should really go wash that out and put some disinfectant on it.”
"Psh, I’m fine. Signe got cut up worse than this sparring with Clint yesterday."
For once Phil backed him up "Sig is a half-Asgaurdian, half-frost giant with super healing powers. You’re a skinny little shrimp. Go wash it out."
"I am not a shrimp! I’m really tall for a girl my age." She objected, but, at Phil’s say-so, she did go to the kitchen sink and start rinsing the cuts out. "I’m taller than Jamie, and he’s three years older than me."
Jamie felt his lips thin in irritation, then his shoulders tightened as Phil laughed "Wow, even on four hours of sleep I’m more tactful than you. You suck at talking, Al. You know our little Jamie doesn’t like to be reminded of his status as the tower runt."
Jamie gritted his teeth. He was more than two years younger than Phil, so of course he’d always been smaller than him, but it seemed like just the last year that Phil started being a jerk about it. About that, and any other thing he felt like prodding. Jamie had given up trying to understand why, and accepted it as a permanent feature of his brothers personality,
"You have no room to call others puny" Signe butted in with a grin at Phil. She stood a good half a foot above Phil, which seemed to Jamie to be the only thing keeping Phil in line sometimes.
“You,” Phil retorted, pointing, "are half Frost Giant. Emphasis on giant. That’s a whole other scale. Not a fair comparison."
Signe snickered at Phil, "Runt."
Phil leaned back in his chair. Sig’s height seemed to tick him off more when she looked like a girl. “Tsh. Shut up."
Signe pressed on “Besides, you may be taller, but even Alma spars better than you do.” Alma grinned proudly, climbing back up to sit on the table. Alma and Signe both were better fighters than Phil or Jamie. Jamie because he couldn’t breathe well enough, Phil because he refused to practice beyond covering some extremely basic self defense.
Phil rolled his eyes. “I don’t see you actually winning your bouts either, Sig.” Signe was the only one of the kids allowed to spar full-out with the team. She loved it, but she didn’t generally win.
Alma interjected indignantly "Only because her dad doesn’t let her use frost powers during sessions. Which is so mean!" Signe looked a bit downcast at that, and looked outright uncomfortable as Alma continued "I can’t believe he still won’t admit that you’re adopted. That’s just...so...I mean..." Jamie caught her eye, and shook his head slightly, trying to cue her to shut up. Alma glanced at Signe’s expression and stopped. She picked up a brightly colored plastic hair clip from the table to fidget with. “Well, it’s dumb, that’s all. Sorry, Sig."
"It gets old." Signe admitted "But, since I'll likely never be allowed in Asgaurd or Jotunheim, I guess it doesn't matter that much."
"It’s still stupid." Alma muttered. “I wouldn’t like it if Clint or bapa pretended I wasn’t adopted, or pretended I wasn’t from where I’m from.”
"Sig, you should talk to him about it." Jamie said, earnestly. "I'm sure he knows that everybody’s figured it out. I mean, we’ve all seen you go blue and everything. He knows we all know you. Why does he keep lying to everybody about it?"
The tower was so full of secrets. Signe’s birth-parents were just one of the things no-one was allowed to even ask about. Loki was mostly taboo in general. Jamie could almost deal with that. At least everyone knew. The worst secrets were the ones you didn’t know were there until you asked about them and ran into an unexpected and heavily guarded wall.
"I don't think he's ever even acknowledged it to dad.” Phil agreed "And both mom and dad told me not to ever say anything about it in front of anyone."
Signe waved them off. “Ah, you all worry too much. Everyone does know. I will respect his wish to not discuss it yet. Speaking of Loki distresses him." Jamie felt sure that, even though she was trying to brush it off, she was bothered by it.
He remembered one particularly uncomfortable moment from several years ago, when Signe had been upset, turned blue, and iced over Thor’s kitchen floor. Jamie had never seen Thor react that way before- with a combination of anger and something that verged on panic. He had really yelled at Signe that day, rattling the room with the force of his voice, and Jamie hadn’t ever been able to shake the memory of that shocked, confused expression in Signe’s face at his reaction. She’d been off kilter for over a week afterwards. Truth be told, he was still a little angry at Thor for that, even though, overall, he was probably the best father in the tower by Jamie’s estimation. Most of the time he seemed so proud of Signe.
Alma kept playing with her hairclip, thoughtfully. “Do you think your grandparents know? I mean, were you officially adopted, or did Thor sneak his name onto your birth certificate?”
Phil squirmed in his seat slightly. He always got squirmy when Signe or Alma seemed upset. He stood up from the table. "Well, this is fun and all, but I’m going the fuck to bed. To dream of getting the hell out of here, and into a magical land of keggers and girls who aren’t practically my sisters. You kids have fun now."
Jamie rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to hang out with a sleep deprived Phil, but Phil used to actually hang out with them, at least sometimes. Jamie missed when everyone would go swimming together, or when the four of them used to play poker. These days Phil was either by himself in his room or with Tony in the lab, working on his damn nanites. Which reminded him-
Jamie turned to Phil before he could leave "Hey, Phil" Phil turned and stopped "Have you heard mom say anything about what she wants for her birthday?" Signe and Alma also sat up and looked at Phil. While Jamie’s mom only really claimed him and Phil as her kids, Alma and Signe were also really attached to her, which had resulted in some really interesting gifts over the years. Clearly, they both intended to present her with something again this year.
Phil grinned the smuggest looking grin Jamie thought he had ever seen. At least, the smuggest grin he'd seen since the last time Phil talked about his pet secret project. "You mean other than my anaphylactic allergy stopping nanites? Which, by the way, are pretty much ready for their debut?". Jamie couldn’t even really be angry at Phil for this one. Nanites that would eliminate their mom’s allergy were, as far as he was concerned, a pure good. He had given up the idea of topping that gift as soon as Phil had told him what he was planning. But he couldn’t show up empty handed, and he hadn’t been able to come up with anything he even felt he could set on a table next to Phil’s gift. “Nope,” Phil continued, “no idea. But I can pull up her browsing history and give you a printout of stuff she’s looked at a bunch of times."
"That would be much appreciated" Signe said. Alma nodded.
Phil shook his head, still smiling smugly, "Oh, no, not for you. Just for Jamie. You two will have to beg help off him, or get the info on your own.” Phil said, starting to walk backwards towards the door.
"What? Why?" Signe demanded.
"Because he didn’t call me puny." Phil answered, reaching the door. Jamie raised his eyebrows, but honestly that was just like Phil. Insult you, then give you a gift for not insulting him back. "Good night!" he said, shutting the door behind him.
Jamie rolled his eyes and looked at Signe and Alma, "Don’t worry, of course I’ll share them."
"Ah, he still likes you the best,” Signe said. But her tone was approving.
"He does not, he’s just yanking your chain." Jamie retorted. He didn’t want to think about that right now. "Lets go get physical training out of the way, I skipped it yesterday so it’ll take me a while." Signe and Alma agreed, and Alma went to get a snack to take with her, since she’d missed breakfast.
He hated the feeling he got at the thought of being Phil’s favorite. Firstly, because he didn’t want to degrade his relationship to Signe or Alma. Secondly, because that phase was over. Phil was getting ready to move on, and he didn’t need Jamie to entertain him anymore. Phil had complained more than any of them about the lack of alternate friends in the tower, and the difficulty with making friends outside the tower. At college that wouldn’t be a problem for him anymore, and Jamie would become truly obsolete. And he knew what Starks did with anything obsolete.
* * *
It’d been an easy little 3 day op, no surprises, no special danger. And, with just her and Clint, low on interpersonal tensions. Just a little intel gathering and contingency planning on an upstate professor with some shady research and an unstable psych profile. Dr Frank Lezanski hadn’t actually crossed any lines of legality yet- although she was pretty sure Director Hill would have still already moved against him by this point, and Fury would have been considering recruiting him. But that wasn’t how the Avengers operated. As long as he didn’t actually cross the line, they’d only watch. Well, watch and set up a system of covert alerts to let them know the moment he made his move.
Clint had gone to find Alma and, he’d noted cheerfully, probabaly to replace some of his ceiling tiles. Natasha took about an hour to herself, and then she was appropriately dressed and off to lunch with Pepper at one of the towers ground floor restaurant options.
Pepper was there before her, seated at their usual table which was, unsurprisingly, the most secluded table in the house. She looked up at Natasha, smiling and stowing away a tablet as Natasha approached. She looked tired, deep lines under her eyes, color-matched perfectly to the rest of her skin with expertly applied concealer. Par for the course, these days. But her greeting was warm and real. “Hi. Looks like the mission didn’t give you much trouble.”
Natasha took the seat opposite Pepper. “Nope. Pretty much exactly what we expected. How were things back here?”
“Oh, same as usual.”
Natasha tilted her head to the side, picking up her ice water, already on the table. “That bad?” She would keep giving Pepper openings to at least vent. Right now Natasha wasn’t sure how else she could improve things, but that at least she could do.
It worked as the invitation it was. Pepper huffed a wry little laugh. She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe this is normal, with the kids getting to this age. I’m sure I was just as stubborn.”
Natasha didn’t bother bringing up her longstanding belief that normal had never been an option for any of the kids, nor most of the adults who lived at the tower. Nor did she bring up her belief that normal lives seemed to turn out ignorant, vulnerable, unexceptional people and weren’t worth pursuing. Pepper had known normal once, and clung to it harder than the rest of them. It was an old argument that always ended in a draw anyways. Instead, she answered “Maybe. But it doesn’t seem to be agreeing with Tony or Steve.”
Pepper sighed. “It’s not agreeing with me, either, but it is what it is. And maybe Phil will calm down once he’s had a little more freedom.”
“Probably. I suspect he’ll see the value of this group a little more once he has to go out among ‘normal’ people for a while.”
Pepper smirked. “Are you calling my son a snob?”
“No. He is, but no. I just don’t think he’s ever had to interact with someone of an average IQ for more than 5 minutes. If you’re not careful he’s going to end up breaking into R&D on the weekends just to get some intellectual stimulation.”
Pepper laughed. “It wouldn’t surprise me. You weren’t around much back when Bruce first moved in. Tony would not stop pestering him.” She looked wistful. “First Bruce gone to God-knows-where, and now Phil leaving. Tony might have to start actually talking to Stark Industries employees at this rate.”
“And how was everyones favorite genius billionaire philanthropist while I was out?”
Pepper didn’t look at her, she toyed with her fork on the tablecloth. “I don’t know. Either he’s drinking less, or he’s hiding it. I honestly don’t know which. Ever since his last blow up with Steve about it-“ Pepper straightened with a bright, cheery smile as the waitress came towards them, confirming their usual orders.
As soon as the waitress turned to leave, Pepper’s phone went off. She sighed quietly but deeply, and pulled it out of her purse. She looked pleased when she saw the screen, and answered the call with an apologetic look towards Natasha. “Hi Rhodey.” She listened. “Of course, you know you’re always welcome to stop by, any time.” Her smile dimmed, turning to concern. “About what?” Pause, “that’s not very reassuring. Can’t you just tell me why?” Another pause. “Alright. Yes, Clint and Natasha just got back. Yes, I’ll make sure everyone’s there. The kids? Why would I- ok. Alright. Rhodey you’re really worrying me, here.” She looked exasperated, her her voice didn’t stray from politely concerned. “Alright, I’ll see you at seven. Bye Rhodey.”
Natasha frowned more openly. “What was that about?”
Pepper looked a bit shaken. “I have no idea. Rhodey just said he wants all of us- specifically all of the adults to meet with him tonight to talk about something. But he wouldn’t say what.”
That boded poorly. He’d called Pepper. Not Tony or Steve, so it wasn’t Avengers business. That really left two possibilities- Tony, or the kids. Neither option was comforting. Particularly since Rhodey shouldn’t be in possession of information on either subject that they wouldn’t already know. Unless there was some external threat. Or if Tony really was hiding his drinking and Rhodey’d found out about it. Either way, this was bound to be bad news, aimed close to home. The best they could hope for would be that someone had found Bruce, but even then, he should have called Tony first, not Pepper.
Natasha nodded. “I’ll talk to Clint and Tony. You get Thor and Steve?” That Pepper would host was assumed. Truthfully, so was the chain of communication, but Natasha would keep offering her chances to let someone else deal with Tony, even if she never took them. It’d be good for them both. Sixteen years divorced and she still felt responsible for him. He still let her be responsible for him.
Pepper shook her head, as expected. “I’ll tell Tony. But if you could get Thor that would be great.”
Natasha agreed. She’d offer to lighten Pepper’s load, but she wouldn’t try to argue Pepper out of it. It was her business. Instead, she changed the subject. They didn’t speculate any further during lunch. They discussed books- the lives of fictional people who they could watch fall apart, then set aside.
* * *