Tony Stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
in_extremis) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2020-07-29 10:53 pm
in_extremis) wrote in revivalproject2020-07-29 10:53 pm
(no subject)
WHO: Tony and...open? Look, I do see those other two open waterworld posts down there, I just didn't want to get this all over them.
WHERE: Tarf system! I'm assuming Keith would put the Bloodsport on waterworld, too.
WHAT: Mini-event, mega-breakdown! Tony is feeling sorry for himself, so he makes use of the local delicacies.
WHEN: During the pit-stop event.
WARNINGS: First of all, I'm sorry. Second, mind the alcoholism and a relapse situation, it's a little dark in here.
The thing was, it really didn't matter.
If someone asked Tony what he thought they were doing here, he didn't have a good answer for them, except that maybe some people were here as a mercy, away from a planet or dimension that was strangling them and they were barely on their toes. It didn't matter what he was doing here, because some kind of mistake had been made along the way, obviously, and the entities in charge of making these decisions had made a severe miscalculation of his worth to this group that they were gathering. If it mattered at all, he was the rope.
The thing was, he wasn't really accomplishing anything anyway. The most material production he could claim was a few bullets, ever the weaponeer under the slightest bit of pressure, born out of a problem of his own making and a total lack of resolve for the slightest moral engagement. It was even worse knowing from Reeve that he should have been capable of being better than that. If he was worth anything, it was supposed to be that he was smart enough to be better than that. He hadn't really been from the start; making weapons was what he was best at, and what he always did, and the jewel in his bloody crown was the repulsor that he pretended was a clean energy system until that slight pressure.
And the thing was, Tony was the only one really pretending otherwise. Steve knew well enough to get out when he had the chance, that he wasn't really happy in the world Tony was building for him, and none of Tony's glittering visions of the future were ever going to be realized while he suffocated them under his control. Tony had maybe a few more months, back home. He knew what was coming, he always did. The dazzle of Tony's manipulation was going to wear off quick without the support of the Illuminati, and he was going to be standing alone trying to convince Steve that the whole world saw them as weapons.
That's the thing, the real thing boring a void through Tony's chest that he thought he could slap some duct tape on and ride out until something else could take him out first. Everyone figured it out eventually, that they were better off keeping their distance. Jon was smart, and bore the vastness of the present the same way Tony adopted the eternity of the future. The dazzle shouldn't have worked as long as it did. Reeve had done him one better and figured it out for him, knew there was only one place that path led, and Tony still dragged him back down it with a razor smile. Sansa was mourning, for god's sake. Maybe he did it on purpose. Nothing obsessed Tony and made that void grow sick on its own emptiness like the vulnerable flutter of his scarred heart at the sound of Jon's compelling voice.
The thing was, if Hellrung was here to say any of this to, he would recite the Prayer at Tony and Tony wouldn't be able to tell him if it was the serenity, the courage or the wisdom he intended to find in this bottle. It was just the first of several that Tony had slowly accumulated, not intentionally at first. Space, the ships, the whole new planets, that all should have been thrilling his heart to bursting, and he bounced down onto the sand fully intending to make good use of his sunglasses and at least pretend at what he was supposed to be doing. He knew Jon wasn't handling the ships well, and maybe if Tony found something here that would make the trip easier, maybe Jon would accept it and talk to him again. The natives were more than happy to watch Tony rehang a door that was slowly slouching out of its frame, then laugh at the face he made at a whiff of the leather and offer a drink instead. Good stuff, they said, takes the sting right out of the nostrils, and maybe out of being cramped in a spaceship that wasn't easy on the nerves. He came back for another, this time coaxing a winch back into repair that had snapped and left a net of still flapping fish on the dock as he worked, after he couldn't bring himself to go looking for Jon with just one bottle in hand. This wasn't a one bottle problem he had caused.
His fingers were pricked with splinters and his toolbelt notably lighter by the time Tony reclined on the sand with half a dozen bottles propped up in it next to him, holding one up to the sunlight curiously to watch the liquid refract inside.
The thing was, it didn't really matter what he did now. It wasn't going to change anything.
WHERE: Tarf system! I'm assuming Keith would put the Bloodsport on waterworld, too.
WHAT: Mini-event, mega-breakdown! Tony is feeling sorry for himself, so he makes use of the local delicacies.
WHEN: During the pit-stop event.
WARNINGS: First of all, I'm sorry. Second, mind the alcoholism and a relapse situation, it's a little dark in here.
The thing was, it really didn't matter.
If someone asked Tony what he thought they were doing here, he didn't have a good answer for them, except that maybe some people were here as a mercy, away from a planet or dimension that was strangling them and they were barely on their toes. It didn't matter what he was doing here, because some kind of mistake had been made along the way, obviously, and the entities in charge of making these decisions had made a severe miscalculation of his worth to this group that they were gathering. If it mattered at all, he was the rope.
The thing was, he wasn't really accomplishing anything anyway. The most material production he could claim was a few bullets, ever the weaponeer under the slightest bit of pressure, born out of a problem of his own making and a total lack of resolve for the slightest moral engagement. It was even worse knowing from Reeve that he should have been capable of being better than that. If he was worth anything, it was supposed to be that he was smart enough to be better than that. He hadn't really been from the start; making weapons was what he was best at, and what he always did, and the jewel in his bloody crown was the repulsor that he pretended was a clean energy system until that slight pressure.
And the thing was, Tony was the only one really pretending otherwise. Steve knew well enough to get out when he had the chance, that he wasn't really happy in the world Tony was building for him, and none of Tony's glittering visions of the future were ever going to be realized while he suffocated them under his control. Tony had maybe a few more months, back home. He knew what was coming, he always did. The dazzle of Tony's manipulation was going to wear off quick without the support of the Illuminati, and he was going to be standing alone trying to convince Steve that the whole world saw them as weapons.
That's the thing, the real thing boring a void through Tony's chest that he thought he could slap some duct tape on and ride out until something else could take him out first. Everyone figured it out eventually, that they were better off keeping their distance. Jon was smart, and bore the vastness of the present the same way Tony adopted the eternity of the future. The dazzle shouldn't have worked as long as it did. Reeve had done him one better and figured it out for him, knew there was only one place that path led, and Tony still dragged him back down it with a razor smile. Sansa was mourning, for god's sake. Maybe he did it on purpose. Nothing obsessed Tony and made that void grow sick on its own emptiness like the vulnerable flutter of his scarred heart at the sound of Jon's compelling voice.
The thing was, if Hellrung was here to say any of this to, he would recite the Prayer at Tony and Tony wouldn't be able to tell him if it was the serenity, the courage or the wisdom he intended to find in this bottle. It was just the first of several that Tony had slowly accumulated, not intentionally at first. Space, the ships, the whole new planets, that all should have been thrilling his heart to bursting, and he bounced down onto the sand fully intending to make good use of his sunglasses and at least pretend at what he was supposed to be doing. He knew Jon wasn't handling the ships well, and maybe if Tony found something here that would make the trip easier, maybe Jon would accept it and talk to him again. The natives were more than happy to watch Tony rehang a door that was slowly slouching out of its frame, then laugh at the face he made at a whiff of the leather and offer a drink instead. Good stuff, they said, takes the sting right out of the nostrils, and maybe out of being cramped in a spaceship that wasn't easy on the nerves. He came back for another, this time coaxing a winch back into repair that had snapped and left a net of still flapping fish on the dock as he worked, after he couldn't bring himself to go looking for Jon with just one bottle in hand. This wasn't a one bottle problem he had caused.
His fingers were pricked with splinters and his toolbelt notably lighter by the time Tony reclined on the sand with half a dozen bottles propped up in it next to him, holding one up to the sunlight curiously to watch the liquid refract inside.
The thing was, it didn't really matter what he did now. It wasn't going to change anything.
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"Totally another list, and seeing as I'm not Christian and a really shitty Jew, I'm gonna let that one go."
With that Tommy sat down in the sand, taking a swig of the alcohol. Nope. You can't stop him, Tony. He's too young and he gives no fucks.
"Maybe you aren't from the same dimension as us, but given you've been trying to be all 'papa Stark' at us, I intend to be all up in your business in return. But if you want to hear all about your shitty life choices and the Civil War and all the bullshit with Wanda and Doom, and then Asgard and everything else, fine. I'll tell you. But you don't need that much shit on your shoulders, right? And you haven't done any of it yet."
Which means Tommy shouldn't hold it against him, right? Right? Fuck tell him he's right, please. Because otherwise he has to stay angry. And frankly? Angry has been making him tired. But he takes that swig and whistles in appreciation again. Just like when he drank with Jon. Fuck this stuff is potent, even for his body.
"In the end, though, I'm doing you a favor. Should take all this away. I was going to come over here and insist that you be smart guy at me and maybe see if I can actually learn some shit after that whole thing in your brain, but now? Now I feel like I have to be your sober companion or some shit."
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That didn't make either of them feel any better, and Tony slouched down onto his elbows so he could tuck his shoulders up around his ears, pouting. "You're not going a very good job," he pointed out as his sober companion emptied his bottle. "I wasn't sober for most classes, either, we can make that work. What did you want to learn? I've got some more aerospace engineering on tap if that's still your thing. Goes better with something maltier, but some of those were morning classes, I've been known to have a vodka breakfast."
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"Bullshit. No one can see the future. Not a certain one. There's too many of them. David told me about it, because the X-Men play with that shit too much."
Once he's settled he puts the bottle to the side. Better not to be tipsy. Tony was right. He was doing shit at this already. Still, he's frowning now, at Tony's statement. Yes, he DOES want to learn. Tony had seemed intrigued by Tommy's observations in Tony's memories. And Tommy, in turn had a LOT of fun when they'd had that moment, because it was one of those rare moments when he didn't feel like an idiot. But this?
This is more important.
"Sure, we can talk whatever you want. After you tell me why you're taking this stunning rush at ruining your sobriety."
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"Inevitability," he eventually produced, which he was still sure about despite the X-Men. "It was bound to happen, why not do it while enjoying such a beautiful beach? Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. Eventually, you stop going to the meetings. It just happens. Some of us, because we've been kidnapped by aliens into a different dimension on an abandoned planet, no meetings there, total wasteland, I'm only making it worse--doesn't matter the circumstances, inevitably, here we are."
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"I don't know. The only X-Man I was ever really tight sorta bailed when I tried to take him out partying. Then again, the New Year's Eve bash with some of the X-Kids was actually pretty fucking cool. So maybe you're not wrong."
But what he's hearing about the alcoholism? Nope. Not buying it. So time to be fucking real here, Stark. Hope you enjoy it.
"Yeah, I know about alcoholics that relapse. Some of them hit their kids. Others just short of starve them. You don't wanna be like that, Stark, even with aliens as a defense. So yeah, consider me your fucking meeting now if you need. We're done with Stark getting drunk. You're the brain that is supposed to help figure a way out of this shit, remember? You're going to get Wanda back to her Vision, and Billy and Teddy home so they can finally get over their being slow ass idiots and get married. You're going to get Sansa back to her baby daddy and send me back so I can catch up on whatever fucking happened when I was kidnapped by an apparent interdimensional monster, right? So no more brain-juice. Or I'm going to have to nanny you and neither of us will enjoy that."
With that Tommy shakes his head and flops back into the sand, staring up at the sky as well. It's nice here. Really nice. Better than on Agra 10 if you asked him. Not that anyone would. Then again, the beaches on the islands in the bay were picturesque like this too. So not so bad.
"So, I've already figured out why there is one sad-sack drinker among people that I'm trying to learn to be more tolerant of. What's your sob story rationale for it? Other than kidnapped, because not buying it."
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He was quiet for a long time then, though, not wanting to be the unsatisfying stand in for this argument he was sure Tommy had practiced in some way, but was presenting with a sensitivity that Tony hadn't anticipated from him. Tommy was sensitive enough without being overtly sensitive, making Tony take his time calculating how to tell him to get some space from Tony. Part of the truth couldn't hurt. Trying to work some of the anxious tension out with his heel digging a restless rut into the sand, Tony said, "When I figured out that there could be another me that showed up here, from another dimension or the future or whatever is happening, I spent a long time completely dreading it. I don't know if that's going to happen, but I did know that if I had to meet that guy, I would fucking hate him. I wouldn't even be able to look at him.
"But now...I know he's not going to be that bad. He stopped making weapons, full stop, not fucking, I don't do that except, except, except. He has a kid, he has a daughter out there somewhere, he got his shit together enough to have a family and isn't alone. He's doing okay. So, so maybe if he shows up, you'll get all of that-- Wanda and Vision, the wedding, Sansa's baby daddy, that other kidnapping you're dealing with, congrats. But you got saddled with the worst one, sweetheart. I don't even have a suit, I can't even pretend to be Iron Man. I'm worthless, and always have been. I'm trying, I am, but..."
Tony clicked his tongue and scanned the sand around him for another bottle to open. "Everyone should just--take care of each other, okay? I haven't fixed any of it. I'm just making it worse."
That only took forever to write.
But none of that mattered. What mattered was what Tony actually said. Enhanced senses meant Tommy heard it just fine. And, in shock, sat upright in a blur of motion that sent sand flying, given how some had already gotten into his hair.
“Who the fuck said that? Two problems with that statement, Stark. First, I don’t have a boyfriend,” Tommy said quickly, the words blurring together a little in his agitation. “Second, Fake-Patriot totally wasn’t David. That thing was fucked up beyond even the X-Men’s normal abilities for weird shit. I’m just saying that before I came here I apparently spent some time as the metaphorical carrot on a stick to lead my team about and I just found out and I don’t even know if I still have a job, much less an apartment.”
All of that is clearly saying too much. Clearly the lady doth protest too much.
Still, he tears his gaze from Tony and looks out over the sand, silent and listening as Tony explained his dilemma. This is the part where he acts serious. Give him an award for being patient through all Tony’s talking, because when he answers, even as his feet dig into the sand, his opinion of what he’s been told is clear just from his tone.
A tone that is less full of pity and more full of understanding.
“If you think I don’t get that feeling, your fucking genius card is revoked. That knowledge that you might be the worst possible you, I live with that here. It hangs over my head each time I see a new Bucky Barnes. There’s all these realities out there, so I can’t help but think about the one where maybe I was a Kaplan too. Or where the Maximoff babies didn’t die. Or where maybe Frank and Mary cared about each other. Yeah, you’ve got a concrete example, that sucks. Me? I not only have to measure myself against all the other Tommys, but against all the Billys too. And more than that. Wanda and her magic? She didn’t need to make twins. But she did. She made me because she couldn’t imagine a her without Pietro. So even in my first iteration I’m just fucking there to be the ‘not-Billy’ in her dreams of a perfect family. I was literally made to echo Pietro, class asshole and fucking self-centered headcase. And there are probably still realities out there where I can’t even measure up to that.”
If there is one thing Tommy gets, it’s being inadequate.
“Maybe you’re a terrible Tony Stark. Maybe that Stark is, like, the pinnacle of all Starkness in the multiverse. Maybe he is a fuck up too and you don’t know it. But so what?”
His attention returns to Tony, staring at him with a piercing sort of intensity. Or what he hopes is that. Hasn’t exactly practiced this look in a mirror or anything.
“Maybe the only thing you can be is the best version of THIS you. So what if you don’t have the suit? You’re Tony Stark. Even without the suit you’re Iron Man. A founding member of the Avengers, the man who made Stark Industries synonymous with the idea of fucking baller tech, a fucking HERO, and you’re fucking better than the bottle.”
Speaking of... Tommy rises and starts to collect the things.
“The only thing you’re making worse is yourself by doing this. So I will just see to taking this stuff to the ships, okay? Might be the alcohol could be used for medical shit, right? That’s a better use than your self-esteem issues.”
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He really didn't mean to bring out all of Tommy's feelings of inadequacy, making him shrink apologetically for not even considering the twin thing, tracing a finger idly through the sand and not sure how to take back that whole speech now that it was out there and limping around pathetically. Naturally on the defense, he muttered, "I don't compare you to Billy," as though that opinion meant anything, and he wasn't always vaguely comparing the younger heroes to each other. The Young Avengers didn't have a chance as long as Cassie was on the team in that regard anyway, so it wasn't really Billy that was Tommy's competition.
Tommy's movement got Tony to glance back his way to meet his eye and that stare that really was a lot like Pietro, there was no avoiding that comparison, but it did take some of the edge off of the intensity Tommy was going for. So it was easy enough to start to argue, "It's a suit, anyone can...I tanked that company fast, I keep finding new ways..." but didn't really have anywhere to go with it. It was when Tommy was taking his hard earned sensory dampeners that Tony finally sat up, more alert and ready to fight. "It's not self-esteem issues, it's not really about me it's about you and how I'm going to hurt you, dead to rights. Listen to me. Fucking...ask Jon, I make him take care of me for god knows how long, and I can't even thank him properly without making him..." Tony didn't really know what happened, just that the result was, "Not talk to me. Have I said anything to you about saving my life? No, and if I did you would probably walk away wishing you hadn't. This whole thing is a nightmare."
CW: Referenced death and suicide. Also: *sees how big last night's tag actually was. dies a little*
No one wants Quicksilver's nephew, Wanda's SON at the tower. Tommy knows he isn't a favored Young Avenger. Hell, he's probably a bit less liked than Billy because at least Billy is nice. And there he goes again, down the rabbit hole of certainty that he sucks. Yeah, even the Captain America pep-talk hadn't done him any good.
"Don't get me started on Billy, who has literally called me the team sociopath," Tommy grumbles, and his hand goes unthinkingly to the scar on his arm. Even with treatments from Wanda AND Billy the thing was still obvious and ugly. Sure it looked a few YEARS old instead of a few months, but it was still there and he rubbed at it now whenever he got stressed over his brother. "My team seems me like the Avengers see Wolverine. The enforcer. The one that could and would go off the deep end to kill someone."
So yeah, he doesn't like talking about his team all the time.
But Tony's talking down about himself earns a fucking eye roll from Tommy. If it was just a suit, ANYONE could make it. If it was just a suit ANYONE could pilot it with Stark's skill and Tommy had fucking SEEN Osborn suck at it. It wasn't just a suit. Iron Man was... he was like Captain America. Sure you could get a new one, but in the end it would only ever be a knock off of the real thing. It was legacy and not legitimacy. And Tommy had serious opinions on legacy.
"And now we come to the real root of the problem. Which is what I guessed it was. You and Jon wanna bone and be boyfriends and shit but he thinks he's not good enough and you can't admit that having someone care about you is nice and worth keeping. You push people away because people can hurt you and you figure it's easier to not have them get close than it is to run the risk that they could let you down. Because people have let you down before. People ALWAYS let you down. So how could you ever imagine there was someone who might not."
Somewhere in that little rant it turned from Tommy clearly chiding Tony and moved to perhaps Tommy talking from personal experience. Probably made that turn around 'having someone care about you is nice'.
"And dude, you LITERALLY just said something to me about saving my life. Thanks for that by the way. Billy may hate himself a little bit for killing you even though he brought you back. But if he'd killed me? I expect he wouldn't have lived to see sunset. Has tried it before, apparently."
So suck on that, Tony. Your life may be messed up, but it's not THAT messed up. Tommy sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick of his.
"Listen. Sometimes... sometimes people like you and me? We've gotta be vulnerable. It hurts and it fucking SUCKS because people let us down. But... but sometimes it's good. The Young Avengers? That was me letting my guard down. Sure, all of them but Teddy bailed on me after Cassie died. That hurt, it fucking SUCKED. But those days? They were the best ones of my life. It was worth it, to let them hurt me, because first they did a lot to make me a better person. So let the armor go for a second, Stark. It's only there so you can keep the world out. Accept being Tony Stark, squishy meatbag with feelings for a moment, and maybe learn something new about yourself and other people. But don't do it with alcohol. I'm not letting the man who fucking saved my life, and therefore saved Billy's, drink himself into the same pit that made it that much easier for Frank Shepherd to beat a fucking child. I'm just not doing it. Even if that means siccing Cap on your damn ass."
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It was Tommy's charming abstract of how he perceived the 'root of the problem' that turned that pout into a more verbal, "Hey, what the fuck...?", lip raised in a grimace until he sighed with resignation and lolled back onto his elbows with his head on his shoulder. His gaze only very slowly made its way back in Tommy's direction as that little rant continued, eyebrow raised dubiously, catching on pretty early that the problem Tommy thought he was working through right now was not Tony's at all. It wasn't going to help right now to correct him and let him know that he got this theory backwards and Tony didn't really think anyone had ever let him down. Just about everyone he knew, Tony thought, was pretty remarkable.
Even worse, enough so that Tony did have to step in with this one, Tommy was so committed to his self-resentment loop that Tony had to try to cut in, "You saved my life, I just clocked your brother in the face," which might not have been how he would have phrased it if he had waited a split second longer to find out the kid was suicidal. Of course he was, no wonder that conversation in his head was so draining, and Tony tipped his head back then with his eyes closed in frustration, not sure why Tommy made this revelation sound like some kind of sick gotcha. Great, he was so focused on his own suicidal ideation that he couldn't see someone else's right in front of him, sick burn, Tommy, what was that about the root of the problem? Tony was going to have to try to talk to Billy again, what a nightmare, but if Billy had been that close before, that meant it was a choice he had to make every day, like what to have for breakfast. Tony knew that intimately.
With his weight incrementally working back, Tony finally gave in and flopped down onto his back in the sand, like the weight of everything Tommy kept saying had pushed him down. Right, Cassie was dead. Tony still didn't really think of her that way; knowing the fact in the abstract made it so intangible and knocked the air out of him all over again. When it finally seemed like he could get a word in edgewise, Tony pointed out, "You sure do talk a lot. What's that like?," mostly up at the sky so Tommy didn't take it as an actual invitation to go on another tirade. He had to actually listen for a second longer because Tony wanted to let him know, "You haven't let me down, Tommy." He rolled his head in the sand to try to squint up at the kid. "I don't know about those other kids, that seems complicated, as far as I knew one of you was a robot and Cassie was alive. I don't know. But you couldn't let me down. You're an Avenger, and not just that, you're an Avenger because there weren't any and you thought, someone better do that. Do you know how amazing that is?" Without a good way to express himself without feeling like he was going to be sick, Tony raised a hand out of the sand to wave like he was coaxing what he meant to say out of the air, then patted it against his heart, tsp tap tap, whatever that was was in there.
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But what really gets Tommy to be serious, to look at Stark like he's a literal idiot, is when Tony claims the wrong order of who saved who.
"Punching Billy saved my life. He was literally going to kill me. I know him. I was fucked until you showed up. I didn't save you though. Billy did kill you. I just... got him to focus enough to fix it."
And the idea that Tommy is an Avenger because 'there weren't any and you thought someone better do that' actually makes him laugh. Openly. Loudly. That was how the Young Avengers formed, yes. That was why Billy deserved to be called an Avenger. Tommy? He had been brought in when Teddy was kidnapped and the reformed Avengers didn't seem equipped to deal with it. And Tommy joined because it was either that or... Juvie.
"You give me Billy's credit. Don't do that. And... I hate silence. Silence reminds me of Juvie."
So does screaming. But one of those he can control.
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The laugh was unsettling enough that Tony didn't try to mirror it, frowning up at Tommy instead with his fingers curling more uncertainly where they had landed in the front of his shirt. Between that and the Tower thing, Tony had to conclude, "Do you not want to be an Avenger?" This was practically unthinkable, and probably wouldn't have even made it to any conscious part of Tony's brain without the alcohol making thoughts slippery enough to migrate. 'Once an Avenger, always an Avengers' could possibly not be positive for everyone that heard it.
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But he's done arguing the death point. Instead he shakes his head at the question.
"My mother altered the universe and wiped out Avengers and a lot of mutantkind. My Uncle caused her to do it, stole the Inhuman Terragen Crystals, kidnapped my cousin, and was all around a miserable asshole. Who, shortly after retaining his powers, was possessed by Chthon and nearly destroyed the world. Again. My Maternal Grandfather is the mutant terrorist Magneto. My Paternal Grandfather is Ultron. And I'm just a speedster, which means I'm a dime a dozen. Not even the fastest. No one is inviting me. I get the Young Avenger title because technically no Avenger can tell our team what to do."
No one wanted him. When the Young Avengers had disbanded no one had offered their hand out to Tommy. There hadn't been a 'we could use you here, kid'. He'd been left to his own devices, miserable and isolated and dying a little more each day, even if a solo speedster was a powerful fucking force for good in the world.
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"Believe me, if I wanted to tell you what to do, you wouldn't be able to argue with me," Tony started, because he might have been basically immobile with alcohol on a completely alien beach in a foreign timestream, but that didn't mean Tommy had any business forgetting who he was talking to. The Sentry lived in Tony's house because Tony had the killswitch. This reminder was only half way a threat, just as much to tell Tommy he, and the rest of his team, was very much an Avenger by consensus, and he should probably continue to not trust Iron Man, like Tony thought this conversation was about. "The Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver are still Avengers. I'm an Avenger. I never got an invitation, I had to do it myself, nobody else pays membership dues. You want to talk about baggage, Hawkeye tried to kill me personally more than once, just because he wanted to, and he didn't even have superpowers, he could barely feed himself, he was one of the best of us. I don't see your point. You're being an asshole."
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"Well, you are a punk, and he is Hawkeye. That's why I stand for the smart Hawkeye."
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"I can distribute these between the ships. For emergencies."
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You need to just accept the fact that you can't be drunk all the time, Tony.