Chapter Text
After Siberia and the Accords, Tony immerses himself in business. Whether SI or Avengers related it matters little. Tony makes sure to keep himself occupied. If he’s busy he won’t have to think about it, he won’t have to deal with it. So long as he stays in constant motion then none of it can catch up with him.
With Pepper being CEO Tony finds he doesn’t have much in the way of board meetings to attend, only the occasional conference calls or stop-ins with R&D. He tinkers with Iron Man, manufacturing upgrades and repairs. That still leaves him with more than plenty of Avengers business to attend. With SHIELD gone and dispersed, half the Avengers excommunicated, and nothing but a small compound upstate, there is plenty for Tony to do.
He starts with rebuilding some semblance of what SHIELD once was, only on his own terms and under his own careful eye. He keeps it an extension of the Avengers Initiative now, seeing no need to divide the two. Tony is officially Director of the operation, with Maria Hill working directly beneath him. Tony trusts her and that’s more than he can say about most people these days. He did always like her and she has, somewhat begrudgingly, admitted she reciprocates.
The active team is much smaller without the members they had lost, but they make do and they keep an eye out for new recruits. It has grown quickly, but it isn’t much. Vision and Rhodey are now official members, of course. Bruce hangs around whenever he is in the country. Peter is on standby, but Tony isn’t allowing him a full membership until he’s eighteen, and even then it’s questionable. Bobbi Morse had reached out to them not long ago, offering her help. As ex-SHIELD and a known friend of Barton’s Tony was hesitant, but Maria had vouched for her. Scott Lang and Hope Pym have been taken on as consultants. Carol Danvers is their newest member.
It’s a small team, but they have a good dynamic.
Tony works the most he has in years; the most he has since he was dying. It keeps his mind occupied, so what’s the alternative?
It’s late, horribly late, but Tony can’t sleep. He’s digging through contracts and statements and articles until his eyes burn. The sun has set on the ocean outside some hours ago. He needs everything to be perfect for when they go before the UN, needs every base covered, no backends or loopholes or oversights. This won’t be a repeat of the Accords, he will make sure of that.
His head feel heavy and his shoulders tense from hunching over the table.
“Tony?”
He startles, fingers jumping across the page and head turning towards the voice.
“What are you doing? It’s one in the morning, and after what we’ve been up to you should be plenty exhausted,” Stephen Strange says around a yawn. He sweeps a hand through Tony’s hair, brushing the strands out of his face. His fingers linger along the base of his neck.
Tony leans into the warm touch, finding the contact a reassuring sensation. “Couldn’t sleep,” he says.
The others are coming back stateside in the morning, the “Exiled Avengers,” as he calls them. It has been two years and they were being flown in tomorrow via private jet. In less than twenty-four hours Tony would be face-to-face with Steve fucking Rogers.
“Worrying isn’t going to do you any good,” Stephen says. “It’s late, Tony, this is fruitless exertion at this point.”
Tony opens his eyes and blinks several times, he hadn’t realized they had fallen shut. But with Stephen’s thumb running soothing circles along his scalp Tony is feeling more relaxed. He takes in the site of the sorcerer dressed down in a pair of sweatpants and little else. Tony enjoys seeing the man in something other than his tunic and cloak. The uniform makes him look larger, more broad-shouldered and imposing. Like this… well, he looks average, if not incredibly handsome.
Not that he will admit it. They aren’t really at the stage of professing one’s beauty. More at the, I’m-Feeling-Vulnerable-And-I-Want-You-To-Fuck-Me stage. Was that a stage?
Tony should really go back to therapy.
“Come to bed, Tony. You need your sleep.”
“I don’t need sleep, I need to ensure the safety of our team,” he argues. His hands bunch into fists in his lap. “I need to make sure that what happened last time doesn’t happen again, I need to…” he shakes his head, frowning forlornly at the stack of papers and the numerous digital ones on his tablet, the blue light harsh against his eyes.
“I’m a medical doctor, Tony. And I say you need sleep. Now, if you would please.”
Tony pulls himself to his feet and sighs. “You’re bossier than Bruce.”
Stephen snorts but doesn’t comment.
Tony allows himself to be directed to his feet and to his room, falling into the sheets beside the sorcerer. He curls into the other man’s side, burrowing his head into his chest. He knows they're not really together, but he hopes he doesn’t mind.