Work Text:
Tony and Vision finished the final checks of the new security system at the revamped Compound and started inputting the identification data of the newly designated Avengers and support staff. Every few minutes, Tony caught Vision staring off into the kitchen area, his expression pensive.
"She really did a number on you, huh?" Tony said. "Look, V. Don't feel bad. Everyone's first goes to crap. That's just the way love works."
"I don't think much of emotions in that case," Vision replied. "They seem quite problematic."
"Buddy, you said a mouthful." Tony finished inputting Velasquez, Marta, their security systems analyst, and then got on comms. "Marta, you should be able to get into the control room now."
After a pause, Tony said again. "Ms. Vasquez? Please respond."
He shared a concerned look with Vision, who said, "I will check on Ms. Vasquez. Perhaps she's gone on break."
"I've got the rest of your list. There are only a couple left."
Vision nodded then floated off silently. Tony got back to copying identities and biometric data. It went incredibly fast when he didn't have to use a keyboard. He'd just finished up the last item when the door sensor alerted him to an entry that shouldn't have occurred.
Tony spun around to find himself confronting the stars of his nightmares. Rogers. Maximoff. Romanov. Barton. Wilson. No sign of the ant, but Tony heard he returned home with an ankle monitor.
"Well, well," Tony said. "What are you assholes doing here?" Tony silently alerted Rhodey to the situation. He wasn't finished with PT yet, but that didn't mean he couldn't direct things behind the scenes.
Steve looked pained. "Tony—"
Tony overrode him. "I thought you were enjoying your luxurious life as criminals in exile. I know, top-secret," he held his finger to his lips. "But that's quite a sugar daddy you found. I think he's richer than I am."
"Jealous, Stark?" Wanda said. Her eyes glowed red.
Tony smiled sweetly. "I'm just glad you're not leeching off me anymore. I was starting to feel anemic."
Wanda growled. Clint did something near his waist that had Tony sending another silent message, this one to FRIDAY and Vis.
"Guys," Steve said, making a calming motion. "Tony. We wanted you to be the first to know. King T'Challa has been in secret talks with President Ellis. He's granting us all a pardon."
Tony laughed. "He's doing what? What's the point? You barely broke any US laws. Well, except for the kitchen renovator over here." He pointed to Wanda. "I'm sure Vision will be happy to pursue a civil suit against her. But the rest of your crimes took place in Europe; in Africa and Russia."
Clint clenched his fists and stepped forward. "That doesn't matter. We're home now. I'm going home."
"Oh, are you?" Tony said, amusement coloring his tone.
"Yeah," Clint said belligerently. "It's been a fucking year. You've kept me from my family long enough, asshole."
"Oh, I did. Really? Little ol' me. I plucked you up from your happy home life and dropped you in a situation where you didn't belong, in a country where you had zero jurisdiction, to create a whole fuckton of property damage in the name of...what, exactly? What were you fighting for, Clint? Do you even know? Did Steve ever mention it when he dragged you away?"
"You motherfucker," Clint said and started toward him, his bow coming off his back. It suddenly flew out of his hands and straight up to the ceiling, where it got caught in a glowing blue field.
Clint jerked to a stop, a hilarious expression of dismay on his face.
"Sorry about that," Tony said, almost laughing as Rhodey announced over the intercom, "No weapons to be used outside the training areas," in a snooty voice.
"Try taking my weapon from me," Wanda said, striding forward, her hands already swirling with feral red energy.
It dissipated immediately with a sad pop.
"What?" she yelled. "What just happened?"
Tony shrugged. "Like Rhodey said. Weapons bad."
"Tony." Steve stepped forward, the rest of them doing the same, moving as a front. "Stop this game."
"Oh, this isn't a game, creampuff. This is your life. I'm not sure why you're here, but we pulled your invitation a while ago. Now get out."
"Tony, be reasonable," Steve said, and Natasha added in her quasi-persuasive tone, "The president himself gave us the all-clear. I know you've got pull, but it doesn't go that high."
"How wrong you are," Tony said under his breath, and thankfully before the boot-in-mouth crew could kick themselves in the intestines, Vision came wafting through the wall.
"Ms. Velasquez was overpowered by...ah. I see you located them," Vision said, pretending surprise. "Very efficient of you," he added, his voice dry as the void between stars, and Tony choked back a laugh.
"Yeah, I'm good that way. Is Marta all right?"
"I took her to the infirmary and left her with Dr. Strange." Vision emphasized the doctor's name, and Tony hid a smile.
"He's a great doc; I'm sure he and Rhodey will take care of...things."
"Great, terrific. Can we please stop with the back and forth BS and talk about the Compound and what our setup will be?" Sam crossed his arms, his wings shifting. "Don't mean to be rude, but you've wasted enough of our time."
"Wow. Okay, wow. I'm just...flabbergasted. Is that the word? Can you check definitions for me, Vis?"
"From the Compact Oxford English Dictionary, Flabbergast, a colloquial verb, first mentioned in 1772 as a new piece of fashionable slang; possibly of dialectical origin. Definition, to put a person in such confusion that they do not for the moment know what to do or say; to astonish utterly, to confound."
Tony snapped his fingers. "Got it in one! I'm flabbergasted, gobsmacked; I'm completely stupefied."
"All right, enough already," Steve said.
"No, you don't get it—I'm totally nonplussed."
Steve's face turned red.
"I mean, what are you doing here? The president has no say on who enters the Compound. There's this little amendment thingie in our Constitution—you know it, right? The Constitution? Kind of important to most Americans. Anyway, it says something about restricting the practice of quartering soldiers in private homes during peacetime without the owners' consent—that's me, by the way."
"The president seems to believe he has a way around that," Natasha said.
"Oh, does he?" Tony said calmly. "Well, then it was brilliant of me to sell the Compound to the Accords Committee."
"What?" More than one of the ex-Avengers shouted.
"It's true," Vision said, his voice smooth like butter. Tony glanced at him and smiled. "The papers were finalized two days ago."
"So there you go," Tony said. "No need to worry about presidential pull. Just run along and find another sucker for your play." He dropped the jokey tone and said, "Seriously. Get out. This is your last chance."
"You're threatening us? You and the android?" Clint scoffed. "You do remember the airport, right? We don't need weapons to take you down."
"Clint," Steve said warningly. "Tony, you can't arrest us. We're pardoned, remember? Your threats are pointless and childish."
"Steve," Tony said mockingly. "I can have you arrested. This property doesn't belong to you; I'm the custodian, and you're trespassing."
The ex-Avengers looked at each other and set themselves for a fight, fists raised. In Steve's case, strange holograms start forming around his hands only to fizz off, making his face fall.
"Oh, and Clint? I don't need a weapon," Tony said, feeling his eyes flash with Extremis heat. "I am one."
"Well, that went better than I thought," Tony said, looking down at Steve's bloody, battered face. Tony had shackled his forearms and calves with neoVibranium restraints. Of course, Tony designed them with padding. He wasn't an animal.
The others wore lighter cuffs, still reinforced with neoV, and Wanda had a bracelet, courtesy of Dr. Strange, that suppressed her powers. Only a master of the mystic arts could remove her bracelet. She cursed them steadily, her voice hoarse from screaming her outrage.
"Good job with the bracelet, Doc," Tony said.
Strange rolled his eyes. "Doctor, please, or Master, if you prefer." He blinked coquettishly, and Tony smirked.
"There's no point to this," Steve said, still struggling with his restraints. "You have to turn us over to the police, and they'll just release us."
Natasha turned her head away, so Tony knew she'd gotten it right away.
"As usual, you are disastrously wrong, my little freezer pop. I sold the Compound to the Accords Committee, but they made sure to arrange for a foreign title so they could declare the Compound a consulate. So, guess what? You're on Nigerian soil."
Sam groaned. Steve didn't seem to get it, because he said, "So what? The president will never let you—"
"Steve," Natasha said through gritted teeth. "They don't need to hand us over, and they don't even need extradition papers. Tony can just lift off with us from the quinpad."
"He...he can't. Can he?" Steve started struggling again, heaving his body to and fro, and Clint roared in anger. Wanda started weeping.
"Yup." Tony nudged his phone feed and said, "You getting all this, honey bear?"
"Oh yeah," Rhodey said in his ear. "I think Rogers just fully levitated. I didn't know he could do that."
Tony chuckled. "FRIDAY, tell me you captured the whole thing. We're going to cut together a video compilation."
"I'm picking the music!" Rhodey said. "You always pick the worst—you know, they have recorded a song or two since the 80s, cheeseball."
"Whatever you say, sourpatch. Whatever you say."
