Flying Midlife Crisis

“I was asking you to zip me up. I thought I was the one who’s suppose to have pregnancy brain.” 

“…Thank you all the same.” Steve snorted, giving a small smirk as Tony continued on, trying to read him. That’s how it was before.. a simplification of it, at least. Hopefully they could compromise where they could, and when they couldn’t… well…

A mediator could help. It wasn’t fair to put Natasha in that role she had sort of found herself in, but…  there had to be some sort of change, to how they did things. “…well, do I miss this? All of us, working together? The camaraderie? Yeah, I do. Do I want to lead? …not especially. I never really did, it just sort of happened, and… for various reasons, I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now. I’ve still got some trust to earn back, if not the team’s, then the public’s.”

It was one of the reasons he hadn’t reclaimed the ‘Captain America’ mantle. One of the reasons.

“We’ll circle back to you saying thank you later on.” He smiled at the small smirk. Maybe this unfortunate event was the universe’s chaotic way of trying to get them all back together? Extremely chaotic. Tony felt like he should just make amends and put everything behind. But that would mean, admitting defeat without getting the last word in. Was he truly like that?

“Hey I was ready to take the lead, I tried you know that as well as I did. But the public saw me more of the co-leader. the guy who pays for everything and the guy who would step up if Captain America couldn’t. And I still haven’t made peace with that. You kind of owe me for that.” He continued to smile, sliding back into this familiar seat of the rollercoaster they call friendship, was way too easy. And it made Tony feel like he was losing control of the situation. 

          ‘You’ve got a good heart. And should never forget that part of yourself’ - the junior developer’s brow creases a fraction as he mulls over the words, recent memory discerning that he hadn’t been told anything to that effect in quite some time. It’s a struggle to pinpoint a prominent figure saying such that doesn’t include his mother or his close friend Betsy… Perhaps it was the move to New York - everyone seemed so busy compared to Massachusetts or California, the art of conversation and shared sentiment inherently lost somewhere along the way ( how did the saying go: about being able to cry on the subway without eliciting attention? ). Quentin snaps back to the conversation, finding that a small smile had twitched into place.

                    “If it’s any consolation, you’re driving’s a little better than mine,” he teases lightly, shuffling his way out of the car with his bag slung over his shoulder. “That won’t be necessary, no offence but it might take longer if you tag along. I’ll just be a sec, sit tight.” Steadfast feet completely bypass the long line of customers, approaching the counter with a friendly wave - Beck opts to ignore the cries of annoyance, focusing on the workers at the pizzeria whom he had gradually cultivated an amicable relationship with over the past couple of months, engaging them in conversation. A large Margherita pizza is paid for ( it’s the safest choice ), the slender box grabbed and taken back to the car - peering through the glass with a quirk of his neck, Quentin urges for the futurist to follow him into the building. An ‘out of order’ sign is displayed in front of the elevator, the pair needing to take the stairs towards the third floor.

          “Sorry. It’s been on the fritz for over a week and the ‘super hasn’t taken care of it. I’ve actually been meaning to find a new place to move into but haven’t had the time to look around - I’m still adjusting to the city and work’s been taking up a lotta time.”

Did Tony step over the line? Maybe but he truly felt the way he did regarding Quentin. The words weren’t simply plucked from thin air. He saw how the young man interacted with the people around him, how he handled himself in tight situations. That was enough for Tony to make the observation, but honestly - maybe he was taken with how shy Quentin seemed in extreme social situations - not shy, awkward. Yes. Awkward. And seeing him now, from where he was. It was heartwarming. 

Tony laughed at the supposed consolation. “Thank you, I’ll make sure to add it as one of my special skills on my resume.” He was about to argue but he noticed the people and thought that maybe Quentin was right. He nodded. “Alright.” The silence in the car was truly deafening. Hands moving around the interior to try and occupy himself with something, only to find that turning all the knobs made time pass by quicker. 

Stark’s questions inflict a crease at his brow, a pause of thought given to the other Avenger’s words. 

          ( not quite enough to quell the frustration brewing under his skin )

Bucky knows, verbally, Stark can give him the runaround all damn day (hell, he expects it). Bucky may not be a technical or engineering genius, but he knows how to zero in on verbal pressure points (the bane of most of his relationships– the petty, ugly defensive response to leave an argument less scathed than otherwise), and he knows how to dig the soles of his boots into the ground and refuse to move.

     "I think the difference is clear to anyone with half a moral compass.“ There’s a grimace curling his lip, not quite a snarl, but his frustration’s clear, not really bothering to hide it. “The Avengers don’t operate outside the law to inflict harm– criminals, terrorists, invaders–? do. Intentionally. I’m not saying our lives are more important than anyone else’s. I’m not saying there haven’t been mistakes or collateral or causalities. I’m saying we’ve been through enough shit where things could’ve been a lot worse if the Avengers weren’t around. You know if we sign this document, we can only go where they tell us– oversight doesn’t have to mean restriction. 

     “When the Chitauri attacked Manhattan, and the World Security Council wanted to nuke the goddamn island, they didn’t want the Avengers to interfere, but you did. …Are you really gonna tell me that if given the same choice, you’d make a different call?”

The question hangs like an invisible noose between them, a stretch of silence that seems to last longer than it probably does in reality– frustration flaring to anger as Stark’s final comments begin to settle, longing to be ignored by the part of his mind that knows better than to pay them any spare thought, impossible to ignore by the stutter of anxiety thumping against his chest. Impulse urges him to stand, approach, but he controls it– only leaning forward, left hand closed into a fist he hadn’t been aware of until now.

     “Let’s get something straight– I never ‘worked’ for HYDRA. I’d rather die.” His own words sting as much as Stark’s– knowing what the other Avenger doesn’t regarding his present, begrudging alliance with the organization; no matter how righteous the end may be, the means are still ones he still has trouble stomaching. “Their ideals aren’t mine– they never have been and they never will be.”

Tony could see that his comment struck a chord and that was definitely not what he wanted. But this might just be the edge he needed to grind continuously to break down Barnes enough to understand exactly what this entire ordeal meant to him. His gut kept telling him there’s something deeper, stranger, beyond the boundaries of the contract. 

“You want to talk to me about a moral compass? You’re a foot soldier, no matter what side you were on, but you only did the dirty work nobody was willing to even try to take on.” Classic SHIELD move, probably one of the biggest reasons why Tony did not share their social views never mind their political views. But this... this was a lot more than just SHIELD. The Accords was bigger than all of them. “The Avengers are... was... a fluid unit. We knew the risks we took, each of us knew our limits and our capabilities. We worked together like one team. We didn’t need rules because we knew where to draw the line.” he shook his head. “some of the people out there, have no idea where to draw this line.” 

He rolled his eyes and leaned back against his chair. “It was a calculated risk, we turned the situation around, adapted, divided the moment and conquered it all together.” With a glance to the side, a flash of memories from how he struggled with that PTSD made his sigh. “Do you think I would’ve flown that nuke right through that wormhole knowing I wouldn’t come back?” Attention turning back to James. “They didn’t count on me coming back. Do I blame them? No. My life means nothing if I weren’t able to save thousands.” Standing up, this was getting too personal. “Some of us have a choice, others don’t. Everyone wants equality, but they’re never able to face the consequences when necessary.”

Tony turned toward a window, hands sliding into his pockets. He couldn’t focus on anything beyond the glass. Albeit nature, people, whatever was beyond it, it meant nothing to him. “But some people do and that’s where you want to draw the line. Can never be sure if those people would fall back into their old instincts or move on.” slightly he pivoted his body toward Barnes. “You make this document sound like a death wish, but I ask you this. Would you rather stand in line at the guillotine, take your punishment that fit the crime. Or would you get burned at the stake for something that never crossed your ledger?” 

“And honestly… it feels crazy to be here. With all of you.”

“The only thing I can think to tell you is to enjoy yourself. Because who knows when you’ll get another chance?”