A Scandal in Latveria, pt. II
“Alright, so you already know the story. My dad helps make Captain America in a basement in Brooklyn, Steve goes on to be a national treasure, and Howard spends the next fifty years looking for Steve after he drops into the ocean. Everybody knows the story: S.H.I.E.L.D., the C.I.A., at least half of Congress - shit, even Barack Obama knows. Which, you know, is really kind of creepy when you think about it, since this all has to do with my childhood. And people look at me crazy when I tell them I’m in therapy.”
When Tony asked Phil to go out, he didn’t expect for them to end up in at a Denny’s. He should have known better, watching Tony finish two cups of black coffee and recount his entire childhood over cheeseburgers and fries.
“What you don’t know is that Howard idolized Steve, okay? Seriously, he had framed photos of them together in his workshop, and if you knew my dad, you’d know why that’s important. Howard didn’t even keep pictures of my mom. He couldn’t tell me how they met or what she was wearing on their first date, but he could tell you everything about Steve Rogers. All I ever heard about growing up was this brave, selfless, perfect guy. My bastard of a father loved him, because he didn’t love anybody else, alright? If he did, we certainly didn’t hear about it until long after he was dead.”
Phil nodded, contemplating the burger now falling apart in his hands. “So you grew up admiring Steve.”
Tony jabbed a fry at Phil. “Exactly. It was practically drilled into my brain. I couldn’t help but admire him. It was all Howard ever talked about, when he did talk to me, which wasn’t very often.”
“And when you met him, you were compelled to act on that admiration.”
“Oh, fuck no.”
“No?”
“I hated his guts.”
Taking a bite, Phil looked at Tony like he was speaking another language. “Why?”
“Because he was just a guy. After all of that pomp and circumstance, Steve Rogers was just this angry, fucked-up guy who didn’t know what to do with me anymore than I knew what to do with him.” Tony took a huge bite of his burger, chewing and swallowing with a shrug. “So, yeah, we tried to kill each other.”
Phil took a sip of his Coke and wiped his hands off on his napkin. “And now you’re not?”
“Definitely not.”
“I’m not really seeing how this brings us here. You were with Pepper. What the hell did you do?”
Tony looked guilty. His second cup of coffee must have been wearing off. “That’s because the story took a hard left turn three months ago.”
--
Three months after Manhattan, life with superheroes had started to feel like the norm.
It was another party at the house in Dubai, like many others Tony had thrown before. This affair was black tie only, the familiar faces of models, industrialists and bored socialites all replaced by foreign dignitaries, government contract holders and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Half of Asgard was there, too, excitedly inspecting the décor and drinking up the mead Tony had flown in for the occasion. There were X-Men in the kitchen, spies on the veranda, and Stephen Strange was having an intense debate with Reed Richards while The Thing chatted up girls in the hot tub. Looking around, Pepper saw no one she recognized, and got another glass of champagne at the bar.
Steve Rogers was wherever Tony was. Of course he was in that stupid dress uniform Tony was always chiding him about at public functions, sticking out like a sore thumb in a room of tuxedos and gowns. He kept his hands to himself, licking his lips, looking unsure as he navigated the crowd. Tony didn’t even have a drink in his hand, keeping them too busy to let anybody notice the alcohol withdrawal symptoms he had been having the last few weeks. He had neglected to tell anyone he was trying to stop drinking, but that was another matter entirely. What he didn’t know that night was that he was going to fall off the wagon twice before he finally told anyone. Pepper would be there to catch him the first time, Steve the second.
The important thing was that every time Pepper saw Tony across the room, Steve was there. Steve, having made himself a regular fixture at Stark Tower, and for whom Tony had grown fond in his own way. Steve, who made Tony his partner where the Avengers were concerned and a friend where they weren’t, and by his own admission was seeing less and less of Howard in Tony and more of Iron Man instead. Pepper knew better than to be jealous; there were certain things she signed away after knowing Tony for as long as she did, and one of them was jealousy. The world wanted a piece of Tony. That came with the territory, and most of the time Tony was more than willing to oblige. The one thing Tony didn’t - couldn’t, wouldn’t - do was cheat. Watching Steve and Tony together, the way Steve carried himself, the way he ducked his head and smiled when Tony wasn’t looking, it was hard to know if that made her feel better or worse.
Everyone was gone by eleven o’clock, like normal people who didn’t fight aliens and mad scientists for a living. Pepper was drinking her third glass of champagne by then, lying in bed, her heels lost halfway across the room. Tony sat down on the foot of the bed, jacket forgotten, tie pulled loose.
“Well, that went better than I thought,” he said, stretching out to lie beside her. “I half-expected something to blow up or get Hulked on, but for a dinner party for people in tights, I think we did pretty good.”
He was sober; she was a little drunk. Sprawled across the bed, watching the way the light coming from the pool beneath the opened balcony door changed the shadows on the ceiling. They had been here several times before but the roles had always been reversed. She snuggled up beside him, resting her head on his chest with a sigh. He took her hand to kiss it. She closed her eyes.
“He’s in love with you.”
There was no malevolence in her voice, but it still put a weight in his chest.
“Pep, c’mon. Of course he isn’t.”
“It’s the way he looks at you. I’m not blind,” she murmured into the fabric of his shirt. “Everybody can see it.”
“Steve just.” He found himself trying to lie, instincts kicking in, his brain looking for a way to compute all the variables into a neat and tidy solution. Sweep it under the rug. Minimize risk. Minimize consequence. “I’m not - it’s not like that. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
The whole room felt hot, the air too heavy. Tony felt sick with himself like he’d been caught stealing, or worse. There was nothing he could say to fix it, no way to put her mind at ease. Swallowing, he just held her tighter and watched the play of light above them.
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t know yet.”
In a moment she was asleep, and Tony was left with the choice.
--
Phil sat back. “Wow.”
Tony pushed his plate back, no longer interested in his half-eaten burger. “Yeah.”
“That sucks.”
“Basically.”
“So you’re together.”
“Yes.”
“Together-together.”
“Pretty much.”
“And he’s mad at you because you guys are trying to stay on the down-low.”
“First of all, never say down-low again. That’s so creepy. Second of all, Steve doesn’t want us put under a microscope. The minute everybody finds out our leadership isn’t exactly coming from a totally objective place, people start asking questions. Questions get us hauled up on the carpet in front of Congress, so he just wants to delay the inevitable as long as possible.”
“You okay with that?”
Tony shrugged. “You know me: Can’t keep a secret to save my life. Especially if it comes in a skin-tight jumpsuit.”
After a moment, Phil nodded. “That’s why you’re both covering for each other over this Doom thing.”
“What? No.” Tony made a face. “Doom shot first. Why do you people keep saying that?”
“Because we know you, and you always shoot first.”
“But Steve doesn’t.”
“Point taken.” Phil shrugged. “Mazel tov. I guess.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“And you do realize I’m bound by personal conviction to tell you that if hurt him, I will destroy you.”
“I know.”
“As long as we’re all clear.”
“Crystal.”
They fell into silence. Tony bent his straw into a series of complicated geometric shapes. Phil watched him for a few moments before speaking up again.
“So this is probably the part where you apologize for acting like an ass.”
Tony made another face. “Alright, admittedly, I haven’t exactly been on my best behavior. In my own defense, I am under investigation for starting an international incident. Also, I was trying to do something nice for my boyfriend and you just invited yourself along for the ride, which means you kind of started it.”
“Fair dues,” Phil said, tipping his chin thoughtfully. “But you were still an asshole.”
“Duly noted, and I will try to correct that moving forward.” Tony held his hands up in truce. “All good?”
“Close enough.”
“Hey.”
The fact that Steve had shown up at the diner without either of them noticing wasn’t surprising. Realizing how long he probably stood there listening was the embarrassing part. At least he didn’t look mad anymore, his hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders slumped tiredly. Tony immediately slid over in the booth but Steve didn’t sit down.
“How did you find us?” Tony asked, although he looked like he already knew the answer.
“After I came back from my walk I saw you guys had left to room. I figured you’d be here because the car was still in the parking lot and this is the closest thing in walking distance.” Steve looked to Phil apologetically. “Is it okay if I borrow him? We need to talk, in private.”
Phil gestured at the very contrite-looking Tony, who got up and obediently followed Steve out of the diner. It was a surprisingly good look on Tony. The sudden buzz in his pocket stole Phil’s attention, pulling his phone out and checking his messages.
How are things going?
He looked at it for a long moment, sighed, and dialed the number.
“Hey, it’s me. No, I just had a minute to myself. The trip’s been good - hectic, but good. No, of course you’ve been busy. I’ve been keeping up with it on my Google alerts. Yeah, that’s what I figured. That’s good, though. Hey, look, I just wanted to call you real quick to say.” Taking a deep breath, Phil squared himself up. “Actually, there’s a lot of stuff I need to say, but I just wanted to let you know after this trip is over I’m coming up there. Well, he’s going to have to give me the time off. I can’t really mention it over the phone, but I may or may not know where a few notable bodies are buried. Can’t really argue with that. But I just wanted to let you know I miss you, and I can’t wait to see you. Yeah, okay. Me, too. I love you, too. Bye.”
Ending the call, Phil sighed again, palming his phone. He signaled at the waitress two booths over with a smile, paid the tab and left. Walking back to the motel, his face was a little warm, the weight that had been on his back since Manhattan a little lighter. He came to their door and knocked before using the spare key-card. A series of rather awkward scenarios could have awaited him on the other side. Seeing Tony naked (again) he could probably live with, but Steve - he was just not prepared for that contingency. Standing idly by while his childhood hero dated Tony Stark was one thing, but anything past that was patently not okay.
When no one answered, Phil opened the door a few inches, expecting some kind of response. None came and so he went inside to find the lights shut off, the bedside digital clock glowing 10:21pm in the dark. Tony and Steve were asleep in the bed in the farthest corner of the room, a comfortable tangle of arms and legs under the hokey bedspread. Getting out of his shoes and jacket, Phil crawled under the blankets in the unoccupied bed and as he fell asleep, couldn’t help but notice things felt more okay than they had in a very long time.
--
Phil realized with some dismay that the only suit he brought was his work suit. Of course Tony brought three different outfits to choose from, and Steve at least had his dress uniform. He didn’t want to look like he was on the clock, but, under the circumstances - following two superheroes into a church - it might have been for the best. If something blew up, at least he would look professional in the aftermath.
The funeral was a somber affair in a little church, in an even smaller town with America flags outside every storefront. Steve looked like he was going to vomit on the ride over from the motel, pulling at his tie like a five-year-old wrestling with his car-seat. Sitting in the car outside the church, Tony kept slapping Steve’s hand away and fixing his tie and collar, smoothing the front of his jacket for non-existent creases.
“I didn’t expect there to be so many people,” Steve remarked quietly, looking out over the full parking lot of cars, trucks and mini-vans. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“You’re not going to throw up,” Tony reminded him. “We’ve already established that.”
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t even know any of Chuck’s friends or family.”
“We didn’t drive all this way just to turn around now.”
“What do I even say? Nobody’s going to know who I am.”
“I kind of doubt that’s going to be an issue,” Phil chimed in from the backseat. “You are on lunchboxes and t-shirts.”
Tony eyed Phil in the rearview. Phil coughed. Steve just sighed and stared out the passenger window.
“I don’t know.”
“Look, you came here for Chuck. Forget everybody else.” Tony shrugged. “Just do what you need to do.”
“If I throw up, promise you won’t hold it against me?”
“Baby, I’ll even hold your hair back for you.”
Sort-of smiling, Steve looked at Tony and took a deep breath. There were a hundred things he looked like he wanted to say, but couldn’t - shouldn’t - so he didn’t. From the backseat Phil cleared his throat. Tony rolled his eyes and opened his door to slide out.
“Yeah, yeah. We’re going, Phil. No need to pee yourself back there.”
The church was packed with Chuck’s family and friends, his wife, four children and sixteen grandchildren taking up the front two rows. Family photos, personal snapshots and letters filled pin boards placed around the flag-draped casket at the altar, chronicling Chuck’s life in washed-out Polaroids and children’s crayon drawings, baby pictures and Christmas mornings. There were only a handful of open seats in the very back and that suited Steve fine, arriving almost completely unnoticed and quickly sitting down. It was a quiet service, opening and ending in prayer before the mourners filed outside quietly to the parking lot, exchanging hugs and handshakes. Steve was stopped twice by two elderly veterans with medals on their chests, clasping their weathered hands around his and thanking him for coming. From her wheelchair, Chuck’s wife Vivian wiped her eyes with the tissues tucked in her dress sleeve and told him how happy Chuck would have been to know Steve came.
At the cemetery Phil and Tony had the mind to wait by the car, allowing Steve to listen to Chuck’s three daughters and one son, their wet eyes bright with memories of their father’s stories. They showed him pictures of Chuck from the war, back when he was the brawny young man Steve knew, with his broad smile and big laugh. For a few hours on a Saturday afternoon it was 1944 again, as though nothing ever changed.
After a while, Phil looked down at his watch through his dark sunglasses. “Think we should rescue him?”
Arms crossed, Tony shrugged. “Probably. I think Vivian wants to take him home.”
Vivian was hanging from Steve’s arm as she had been for the last half-hour, her chair abandoned, smiling up at him as he kept her on her feet. Squeezing a thin hand on Steve’s bicep, she smiled. Phil winced.
“Yeah, might be a little awkward.”
They watched Steve be swarmed by friends and grandchildren for another fifteen minutes before Tony glanced at Phil again.
“So am I off the hook yet?” he asked. “No explosions, no brothels, no nudity - just like I promised.”
“It could‘ve been worse.”
“Of course, once Fury finds out about this - because I’m pretty sure I saw at least one spy drone in Pennsylvania - we’re all going to charged with treason or something, but whatever. It was worth it.”
“Oh, you’ll be charged with treason. Me and Steve will be fine. Reprimanded, but fine. We’re his favorites.”
Nodding, Tony patted Phil’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Across the wide stretch of headstones, flowers and well-manicured grass, Steve began to make his journey back to the car. Head down, hands in his pockets. Tony met him halfway, out of Phil’s earshot.
“You ready?”
Steve took a deep breath, straightened up. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“And you didn’t even throw up.”
“You must be so proud.”
“Always.” Tony tipped his head over at the funeral party. “Vivian coming with us?”
Looking back, Steve chuckled softly. “I’m sure she’ll be fine without me.”
“Let’s hope. We barely have enough room in the car for Phil.” Stepping in close, Tony gave Steve’s shoulder a firm squeeze, turning to lead them back to the car. “You want to hit the road now?”
“Might as well,” Steve shrugged. “The sooner we get home the better. I’ve had about all I can take of fast food and motel rooms.”
The ride back to the motel room was quiet, packing up in an easy silence. There was a distinct lack of quiet going around these days, heading back north on the highway, out of South Carolina toward New York again. Back to Manhattan, where everything was bright and fast and noisy, and likely on fire by now. Somewhere on the other side of the Carolina border, Phil’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
Thinking about what you said last night. Can’t wait to see you. Talk to you soon.
Phil, at least, took some comfort in that.
--
“We have to stop meeting like this.”
It was ten o’clock in Washington, D.C., and Tony was arguing with the distinguished representative from Illinois. Beside him at the table, Steve looked like he was considering violence again. In the back of the meeting room, behind the horde of cameramen and reporters, Pepper appeared beside Phil with a smile. Immediately Phil kicked himself.
“Sorry. I completely forgot to call you when I got back into town,” he apologized. “It was a long trip.”
“So I’ve heard. How did it go?”
“Nobody died. Well, that’s not true. But nothing blew up.” He shrugged. “What’re you doing here?”
“Showing my support,” she said, looking back to the theatrics unfolding on the floor with a pursed mouth. “It’s easier to see what I have to dig myself out of while it happens rather than hearing about it later.”
“If it makes you feel any better, Doom fired first.”
“So I’ve heard.”
In his jacket, Phil’s phone vibrated. He excused himself to take it in the hallway. There was no name on the caller ID. He already knew who it was.
“How was your trip, Phil?” Fury asked.
“The south is lovely this time of year,” he answered, expecting at least a stiff talking-to. “And I submit myself for disciplinary action. Obviously.”
“I’m watching the hearing right now.” Fury sounded remarkably calm in the face of insubordination. “As far as I’m concerned, so long as those two are in D.C. getting their asses chewed, I don’t care about your extracurriculars.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I expect a damn phone call next time.”
“Won’t happen again, sir.”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
“And if I can ask one more thing?”
“Shoot.”
Phil took a deep breath. He had been rehearsing this conversation since last night. “I’ve been in the field for the last six months, and I have vacation time coming to me. I was wondering if I could cash some of that in after this Doom business wraps up?”
“Is this…a Portland thing?”
Hearing Nick Fury say that, on top of everything else that happened that weekend, was kind of like falling right into The Twilight Zone. Phil decided to just roll with it.
“Yes, it is, actually.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Again. Phone call.”
“I won’t forget.”
Hanging up, Phil was almost buoyant. Tucking his phone away, he stuck his head back into the hearing room. Steve was making an impassioned call to reason over the top of Tony’s rant about tyranny and Latverian fashion. Phil poked Pepper’s shoulder.
“Hey, you want to get out of here? I saw a coffee shop on the way in.”
Heaving a sigh, she nodded heartily. “Oh, god, yes.”
They left together, through the wide halls and outside. Down the steps and onto the sidewalk, Phil finally spoke up.
“Oh, and sorry about Captain America stealing your boyfriend, by the way. I just found out.”
“Thanks.” She shrugged. “It’s alright, we’ve worked through it.”
“I’ve noticed. The private jet helps, right?”
“Maybe. And the private expense account.”
“You’re buying, then.”
“And, well. To be honest, I don’t exactly envy Captain America right now.”
“They’ll sort it out,” he offered. “Or they’ll be brought up on charges and you’ll have the company to yourself. But I’m sure they’ll sort it out.”
At that, she smiled. “With any luck.”
When Tony asked Phil to go out, he didn’t expect for them to end up in at a Denny’s. He should have known better, watching Tony finish two cups of black coffee and recount his entire childhood over cheeseburgers and fries.
“What you don’t know is that Howard idolized Steve, okay? Seriously, he had framed photos of them together in his workshop, and if you knew my dad, you’d know why that’s important. Howard didn’t even keep pictures of my mom. He couldn’t tell me how they met or what she was wearing on their first date, but he could tell you everything about Steve Rogers. All I ever heard about growing up was this brave, selfless, perfect guy. My bastard of a father loved him, because he didn’t love anybody else, alright? If he did, we certainly didn’t hear about it until long after he was dead.”
Phil nodded, contemplating the burger now falling apart in his hands. “So you grew up admiring Steve.”
Tony jabbed a fry at Phil. “Exactly. It was practically drilled into my brain. I couldn’t help but admire him. It was all Howard ever talked about, when he did talk to me, which wasn’t very often.”
“And when you met him, you were compelled to act on that admiration.”
“Oh, fuck no.”
“No?”
“I hated his guts.”
Taking a bite, Phil looked at Tony like he was speaking another language. “Why?”
“Because he was just a guy. After all of that pomp and circumstance, Steve Rogers was just this angry, fucked-up guy who didn’t know what to do with me anymore than I knew what to do with him.” Tony took a huge bite of his burger, chewing and swallowing with a shrug. “So, yeah, we tried to kill each other.”
Phil took a sip of his Coke and wiped his hands off on his napkin. “And now you’re not?”
“Definitely not.”
“I’m not really seeing how this brings us here. You were with Pepper. What the hell did you do?”
Tony looked guilty. His second cup of coffee must have been wearing off. “That’s because the story took a hard left turn three months ago.”
--
Three months after Manhattan, life with superheroes had started to feel like the norm.
It was another party at the house in Dubai, like many others Tony had thrown before. This affair was black tie only, the familiar faces of models, industrialists and bored socialites all replaced by foreign dignitaries, government contract holders and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Half of Asgard was there, too, excitedly inspecting the décor and drinking up the mead Tony had flown in for the occasion. There were X-Men in the kitchen, spies on the veranda, and Stephen Strange was having an intense debate with Reed Richards while The Thing chatted up girls in the hot tub. Looking around, Pepper saw no one she recognized, and got another glass of champagne at the bar.
Steve Rogers was wherever Tony was. Of course he was in that stupid dress uniform Tony was always chiding him about at public functions, sticking out like a sore thumb in a room of tuxedos and gowns. He kept his hands to himself, licking his lips, looking unsure as he navigated the crowd. Tony didn’t even have a drink in his hand, keeping them too busy to let anybody notice the alcohol withdrawal symptoms he had been having the last few weeks. He had neglected to tell anyone he was trying to stop drinking, but that was another matter entirely. What he didn’t know that night was that he was going to fall off the wagon twice before he finally told anyone. Pepper would be there to catch him the first time, Steve the second.
The important thing was that every time Pepper saw Tony across the room, Steve was there. Steve, having made himself a regular fixture at Stark Tower, and for whom Tony had grown fond in his own way. Steve, who made Tony his partner where the Avengers were concerned and a friend where they weren’t, and by his own admission was seeing less and less of Howard in Tony and more of Iron Man instead. Pepper knew better than to be jealous; there were certain things she signed away after knowing Tony for as long as she did, and one of them was jealousy. The world wanted a piece of Tony. That came with the territory, and most of the time Tony was more than willing to oblige. The one thing Tony didn’t - couldn’t, wouldn’t - do was cheat. Watching Steve and Tony together, the way Steve carried himself, the way he ducked his head and smiled when Tony wasn’t looking, it was hard to know if that made her feel better or worse.
Everyone was gone by eleven o’clock, like normal people who didn’t fight aliens and mad scientists for a living. Pepper was drinking her third glass of champagne by then, lying in bed, her heels lost halfway across the room. Tony sat down on the foot of the bed, jacket forgotten, tie pulled loose.
“Well, that went better than I thought,” he said, stretching out to lie beside her. “I half-expected something to blow up or get Hulked on, but for a dinner party for people in tights, I think we did pretty good.”
He was sober; she was a little drunk. Sprawled across the bed, watching the way the light coming from the pool beneath the opened balcony door changed the shadows on the ceiling. They had been here several times before but the roles had always been reversed. She snuggled up beside him, resting her head on his chest with a sigh. He took her hand to kiss it. She closed her eyes.
“He’s in love with you.”
There was no malevolence in her voice, but it still put a weight in his chest.
“Pep, c’mon. Of course he isn’t.”
“It’s the way he looks at you. I’m not blind,” she murmured into the fabric of his shirt. “Everybody can see it.”
“Steve just.” He found himself trying to lie, instincts kicking in, his brain looking for a way to compute all the variables into a neat and tidy solution. Sweep it under the rug. Minimize risk. Minimize consequence. “I’m not - it’s not like that. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
The whole room felt hot, the air too heavy. Tony felt sick with himself like he’d been caught stealing, or worse. There was nothing he could say to fix it, no way to put her mind at ease. Swallowing, he just held her tighter and watched the play of light above them.
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t know yet.”
In a moment she was asleep, and Tony was left with the choice.
--
Phil sat back. “Wow.”
Tony pushed his plate back, no longer interested in his half-eaten burger. “Yeah.”
“That sucks.”
“Basically.”
“So you’re together.”
“Yes.”
“Together-together.”
“Pretty much.”
“And he’s mad at you because you guys are trying to stay on the down-low.”
“First of all, never say down-low again. That’s so creepy. Second of all, Steve doesn’t want us put under a microscope. The minute everybody finds out our leadership isn’t exactly coming from a totally objective place, people start asking questions. Questions get us hauled up on the carpet in front of Congress, so he just wants to delay the inevitable as long as possible.”
“You okay with that?”
Tony shrugged. “You know me: Can’t keep a secret to save my life. Especially if it comes in a skin-tight jumpsuit.”
After a moment, Phil nodded. “That’s why you’re both covering for each other over this Doom thing.”
“What? No.” Tony made a face. “Doom shot first. Why do you people keep saying that?”
“Because we know you, and you always shoot first.”
“But Steve doesn’t.”
“Point taken.” Phil shrugged. “Mazel tov. I guess.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“And you do realize I’m bound by personal conviction to tell you that if hurt him, I will destroy you.”
“I know.”
“As long as we’re all clear.”
“Crystal.”
They fell into silence. Tony bent his straw into a series of complicated geometric shapes. Phil watched him for a few moments before speaking up again.
“So this is probably the part where you apologize for acting like an ass.”
Tony made another face. “Alright, admittedly, I haven’t exactly been on my best behavior. In my own defense, I am under investigation for starting an international incident. Also, I was trying to do something nice for my boyfriend and you just invited yourself along for the ride, which means you kind of started it.”
“Fair dues,” Phil said, tipping his chin thoughtfully. “But you were still an asshole.”
“Duly noted, and I will try to correct that moving forward.” Tony held his hands up in truce. “All good?”
“Close enough.”
“Hey.”
The fact that Steve had shown up at the diner without either of them noticing wasn’t surprising. Realizing how long he probably stood there listening was the embarrassing part. At least he didn’t look mad anymore, his hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders slumped tiredly. Tony immediately slid over in the booth but Steve didn’t sit down.
“How did you find us?” Tony asked, although he looked like he already knew the answer.
“After I came back from my walk I saw you guys had left to room. I figured you’d be here because the car was still in the parking lot and this is the closest thing in walking distance.” Steve looked to Phil apologetically. “Is it okay if I borrow him? We need to talk, in private.”
Phil gestured at the very contrite-looking Tony, who got up and obediently followed Steve out of the diner. It was a surprisingly good look on Tony. The sudden buzz in his pocket stole Phil’s attention, pulling his phone out and checking his messages.
How are things going?
He looked at it for a long moment, sighed, and dialed the number.
“Hey, it’s me. No, I just had a minute to myself. The trip’s been good - hectic, but good. No, of course you’ve been busy. I’ve been keeping up with it on my Google alerts. Yeah, that’s what I figured. That’s good, though. Hey, look, I just wanted to call you real quick to say.” Taking a deep breath, Phil squared himself up. “Actually, there’s a lot of stuff I need to say, but I just wanted to let you know after this trip is over I’m coming up there. Well, he’s going to have to give me the time off. I can’t really mention it over the phone, but I may or may not know where a few notable bodies are buried. Can’t really argue with that. But I just wanted to let you know I miss you, and I can’t wait to see you. Yeah, okay. Me, too. I love you, too. Bye.”
Ending the call, Phil sighed again, palming his phone. He signaled at the waitress two booths over with a smile, paid the tab and left. Walking back to the motel, his face was a little warm, the weight that had been on his back since Manhattan a little lighter. He came to their door and knocked before using the spare key-card. A series of rather awkward scenarios could have awaited him on the other side. Seeing Tony naked (again) he could probably live with, but Steve - he was just not prepared for that contingency. Standing idly by while his childhood hero dated Tony Stark was one thing, but anything past that was patently not okay.
When no one answered, Phil opened the door a few inches, expecting some kind of response. None came and so he went inside to find the lights shut off, the bedside digital clock glowing 10:21pm in the dark. Tony and Steve were asleep in the bed in the farthest corner of the room, a comfortable tangle of arms and legs under the hokey bedspread. Getting out of his shoes and jacket, Phil crawled under the blankets in the unoccupied bed and as he fell asleep, couldn’t help but notice things felt more okay than they had in a very long time.
--
Phil realized with some dismay that the only suit he brought was his work suit. Of course Tony brought three different outfits to choose from, and Steve at least had his dress uniform. He didn’t want to look like he was on the clock, but, under the circumstances - following two superheroes into a church - it might have been for the best. If something blew up, at least he would look professional in the aftermath.
The funeral was a somber affair in a little church, in an even smaller town with America flags outside every storefront. Steve looked like he was going to vomit on the ride over from the motel, pulling at his tie like a five-year-old wrestling with his car-seat. Sitting in the car outside the church, Tony kept slapping Steve’s hand away and fixing his tie and collar, smoothing the front of his jacket for non-existent creases.
“I didn’t expect there to be so many people,” Steve remarked quietly, looking out over the full parking lot of cars, trucks and mini-vans. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“You’re not going to throw up,” Tony reminded him. “We’ve already established that.”
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t even know any of Chuck’s friends or family.”
“We didn’t drive all this way just to turn around now.”
“What do I even say? Nobody’s going to know who I am.”
“I kind of doubt that’s going to be an issue,” Phil chimed in from the backseat. “You are on lunchboxes and t-shirts.”
Tony eyed Phil in the rearview. Phil coughed. Steve just sighed and stared out the passenger window.
“I don’t know.”
“Look, you came here for Chuck. Forget everybody else.” Tony shrugged. “Just do what you need to do.”
“If I throw up, promise you won’t hold it against me?”
“Baby, I’ll even hold your hair back for you.”
Sort-of smiling, Steve looked at Tony and took a deep breath. There were a hundred things he looked like he wanted to say, but couldn’t - shouldn’t - so he didn’t. From the backseat Phil cleared his throat. Tony rolled his eyes and opened his door to slide out.
“Yeah, yeah. We’re going, Phil. No need to pee yourself back there.”
The church was packed with Chuck’s family and friends, his wife, four children and sixteen grandchildren taking up the front two rows. Family photos, personal snapshots and letters filled pin boards placed around the flag-draped casket at the altar, chronicling Chuck’s life in washed-out Polaroids and children’s crayon drawings, baby pictures and Christmas mornings. There were only a handful of open seats in the very back and that suited Steve fine, arriving almost completely unnoticed and quickly sitting down. It was a quiet service, opening and ending in prayer before the mourners filed outside quietly to the parking lot, exchanging hugs and handshakes. Steve was stopped twice by two elderly veterans with medals on their chests, clasping their weathered hands around his and thanking him for coming. From her wheelchair, Chuck’s wife Vivian wiped her eyes with the tissues tucked in her dress sleeve and told him how happy Chuck would have been to know Steve came.
At the cemetery Phil and Tony had the mind to wait by the car, allowing Steve to listen to Chuck’s three daughters and one son, their wet eyes bright with memories of their father’s stories. They showed him pictures of Chuck from the war, back when he was the brawny young man Steve knew, with his broad smile and big laugh. For a few hours on a Saturday afternoon it was 1944 again, as though nothing ever changed.
After a while, Phil looked down at his watch through his dark sunglasses. “Think we should rescue him?”
Arms crossed, Tony shrugged. “Probably. I think Vivian wants to take him home.”
Vivian was hanging from Steve’s arm as she had been for the last half-hour, her chair abandoned, smiling up at him as he kept her on her feet. Squeezing a thin hand on Steve’s bicep, she smiled. Phil winced.
“Yeah, might be a little awkward.”
They watched Steve be swarmed by friends and grandchildren for another fifteen minutes before Tony glanced at Phil again.
“So am I off the hook yet?” he asked. “No explosions, no brothels, no nudity - just like I promised.”
“It could‘ve been worse.”
“Of course, once Fury finds out about this - because I’m pretty sure I saw at least one spy drone in Pennsylvania - we’re all going to charged with treason or something, but whatever. It was worth it.”
“Oh, you’ll be charged with treason. Me and Steve will be fine. Reprimanded, but fine. We’re his favorites.”
Nodding, Tony patted Phil’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Across the wide stretch of headstones, flowers and well-manicured grass, Steve began to make his journey back to the car. Head down, hands in his pockets. Tony met him halfway, out of Phil’s earshot.
“You ready?”
Steve took a deep breath, straightened up. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“And you didn’t even throw up.”
“You must be so proud.”
“Always.” Tony tipped his head over at the funeral party. “Vivian coming with us?”
Looking back, Steve chuckled softly. “I’m sure she’ll be fine without me.”
“Let’s hope. We barely have enough room in the car for Phil.” Stepping in close, Tony gave Steve’s shoulder a firm squeeze, turning to lead them back to the car. “You want to hit the road now?”
“Might as well,” Steve shrugged. “The sooner we get home the better. I’ve had about all I can take of fast food and motel rooms.”
The ride back to the motel room was quiet, packing up in an easy silence. There was a distinct lack of quiet going around these days, heading back north on the highway, out of South Carolina toward New York again. Back to Manhattan, where everything was bright and fast and noisy, and likely on fire by now. Somewhere on the other side of the Carolina border, Phil’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
Thinking about what you said last night. Can’t wait to see you. Talk to you soon.
Phil, at least, took some comfort in that.
--
“We have to stop meeting like this.”
It was ten o’clock in Washington, D.C., and Tony was arguing with the distinguished representative from Illinois. Beside him at the table, Steve looked like he was considering violence again. In the back of the meeting room, behind the horde of cameramen and reporters, Pepper appeared beside Phil with a smile. Immediately Phil kicked himself.
“Sorry. I completely forgot to call you when I got back into town,” he apologized. “It was a long trip.”
“So I’ve heard. How did it go?”
“Nobody died. Well, that’s not true. But nothing blew up.” He shrugged. “What’re you doing here?”
“Showing my support,” she said, looking back to the theatrics unfolding on the floor with a pursed mouth. “It’s easier to see what I have to dig myself out of while it happens rather than hearing about it later.”
“If it makes you feel any better, Doom fired first.”
“So I’ve heard.”
In his jacket, Phil’s phone vibrated. He excused himself to take it in the hallway. There was no name on the caller ID. He already knew who it was.
“How was your trip, Phil?” Fury asked.
“The south is lovely this time of year,” he answered, expecting at least a stiff talking-to. “And I submit myself for disciplinary action. Obviously.”
“I’m watching the hearing right now.” Fury sounded remarkably calm in the face of insubordination. “As far as I’m concerned, so long as those two are in D.C. getting their asses chewed, I don’t care about your extracurriculars.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I expect a damn phone call next time.”
“Won’t happen again, sir.”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
“And if I can ask one more thing?”
“Shoot.”
Phil took a deep breath. He had been rehearsing this conversation since last night. “I’ve been in the field for the last six months, and I have vacation time coming to me. I was wondering if I could cash some of that in after this Doom business wraps up?”
“Is this…a Portland thing?”
Hearing Nick Fury say that, on top of everything else that happened that weekend, was kind of like falling right into The Twilight Zone. Phil decided to just roll with it.
“Yes, it is, actually.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Again. Phone call.”
“I won’t forget.”
Hanging up, Phil was almost buoyant. Tucking his phone away, he stuck his head back into the hearing room. Steve was making an impassioned call to reason over the top of Tony’s rant about tyranny and Latverian fashion. Phil poked Pepper’s shoulder.
“Hey, you want to get out of here? I saw a coffee shop on the way in.”
Heaving a sigh, she nodded heartily. “Oh, god, yes.”
They left together, through the wide halls and outside. Down the steps and onto the sidewalk, Phil finally spoke up.
“Oh, and sorry about Captain America stealing your boyfriend, by the way. I just found out.”
“Thanks.” She shrugged. “It’s alright, we’ve worked through it.”
“I’ve noticed. The private jet helps, right?”
“Maybe. And the private expense account.”
“You’re buying, then.”
“And, well. To be honest, I don’t exactly envy Captain America right now.”
“They’ll sort it out,” he offered. “Or they’ll be brought up on charges and you’ll have the company to yourself. But I’m sure they’ll sort it out.”
At that, she smiled. “With any luck.”