Chapter Text
The room is frighteningly, deafeningly silent. Tony doesn’t actually know if the communal floors of the Tower have been this quiet since the others moved in. He doesn’t know if he’s ever heard these people be so silent outside of covert missions. He has no frame of reference for how worryingly still the room has become, and his anxiety is not liking that one bit.
He wants to be anywhere else but here, but he’s about three minutes too late to make a quick escape. There’s no way he’s getting out of a conversation now, not with that outburst, but Tony can’t do this, he can’t do it, he can’t-
“Tony.” Rhodey is in front of him suddenly, his hands on Tony’s shoulders and leaning in far enough that he’s all Tony can see. “Are you okay?”
Tony laughs. He knows that’s the wrong reaction but he can’t stop laughing because god, god how is any of this supposed to be okay?
He just came out to his teammates, to the Avengers. One angry outburst later and his secret is out, and-
And it kills Tony, but there is not a single part of him that expects this inevitable conversation to go well. Call it cynicism, call it being realistic- Fury would probably write it down in a file somewhere with a note about not being a team player- but Tony doesn’t see any way that this is going to end well for him.
“Tony,” Rhodey repeats quietly. “What do you need?”
For the last five minutes to be completely erased from all timelines. For his teammates to have never started focusing their attention on his non-existent love life. For them to never have moved back into the Tower in the first place-
No. That’s not fair. Tony likes having his teammates around. For all their insufferable, annoying habits- for as simple as his life would be without them living with him- he doesn’t wish that they were gone.
“I want this fucking conversation to be over.” Tony scrubs at his face, and sighs. “C’mon, hit me you guys. You’ve got questions, I’ve got answers. Let’s do this shit.”
He finally looks up at his team and- yeah, okay, the looks on their faces do nothing to inspire confidence. But at least the pure horror from earlier seems to have given away to something like… like confused guilt, maybe. Tony doesn’t know if that’s necessarily better, but it’s at least different.
“Tony, if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t-” Steve begins, always trying to protect his teammates even if that means protecting them from himself.
Natasha, however, has no reservations about getting the information she so obviously wants. “What is aromantic?” she asks, cutting Steve off before he can finish his sentence. The look Steve sends her would be enough to get any minor villain to surrender, but she doesn’t even bat an eye at it.
Tony takes a deep breath. He can do this. Answering simple, direct questions is probably going to be the easy part anyway. “Aromantic is when you don’t experience romantic attraction,” Tony says. His voice is steadier than he thought it would be, but his heart is still racing painfully fast in his chest.
“I’m not- I haven’t done a whole lot of research on this, I’m not an expert or anything,” Tony admits. “I didn’t actually know that aromanticism was a thing, until I said some things to Pepper and she started Googling. But it’s always been this- this thing about me, just that I never loved people the way other people did. I never “fell in love”, I guess, I never felt love that was different than my platonic friendships. And it worked out okay because I was never comfortable with romantic gestures anyway, so-”
“That’s the romance-repulsed bit, right?” Steve interrupts.
Tony nods. “Yeah. Romance, it… it skeeves me out. Makes me super fucking uncomfortable, like my heart races and my skin feels like it’s crawling. I don’t get romance, I don’t know when people are trying to be romantic and I don’t know how you’re supposed to act. I just- none of it makes sense to me because I don’t experience it, and then on top of it romance just makes me feel sick anyway so I never bothered trying to have relationships because I just never wanted them.”
“But if you dated people, you'd get better at picking up on those things,” Natasha says, and Tony grimaces.
“Yeah but I don't want to date people so I'm not gonna do that,” he says. “Why would I force myself into uncomfortable situations when I wouldn't get anything out of it?”
“You'd get the companionship-” Steve tries.
Tony shakes his head. “Not the kind I want. I have friends. I have this-" Tony waves his hand, "-I don't know, committed platonic relationship thing with Rhodey and Pepper. I don't want a romantic relationship, I don't need a romantic relationship, so I'm not gonna try to pursue one.”
“I don't get this,” Clint announces. “I don't- how do you not love anyone? That's like a universal thing, loving people.”
“I do love people, just not romantically,” Tony says, clenching his hands together to stop them from shaking. “I love my friends, but it's not a romantic love. That's- that's how I am. That's how I've always been.”
“So there wasn't- I mean, something didn't happen and…” Steve flounders. His face is red, like he knows how bad his question is and is embarrassed to be asking it, but clearly that doesn't stop him from trying.
And it's not like Tony needs to hear Steve’s full question to know what he's trying to get at. “No. I know… For some people that's a thing, that they identify as aromantic because of trauma or mental illness, and there's nothing wrong with that, but I’m not- this isn't something that I became because something happened to me. This is who I am, this is always who I'm going to be, and I’m not-”
Tony is shaking, not small tremors but full-on quaking in his seat, more than can be hidden by just holding himself tense. He doesn’t know if its nerves or adrenaline or sheer panic, but he can’t hold his body still. He needs to keep explaining but when he tries to force the words, no sounds come out. He knew that this was how the conversation was going to go, but now that he’s in the middle of it he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to keep talking when Steve and Natasha and Clint are just staring at him. Waiting to ask more questions, to demand more answers and information, to-
There are a thousand things he wants to say, so many facts he wants to share and justifications he wants to give and explanations that he can offer. He’s imagined this conversation so many times that he has almost memorized everything he could ever possibly say about his aromantic identity, but he can’t think of any of them now. The words stall out, get lost somewhere in the panic-fog of his brain, and he can’t-
“Tony.”
For the life of him, Tony cannot tell who it is who says his name first. It could be Rhodey, still standing beside him and squeezing his shoulder a little harder. It could be Steve, who at some point took a half-step forward, as if he went to reach out for Tony but stopped himself at the last minute. It could be Natasha, who’s glaring at Clint- who, in turn, looks defensive… but also mostly just guilty.
They don’t hate you, he tells himself, even if it feels like a bit of a lie. This doesn’t have to go badly.
Because it would be so easy to end the conversation here, to smile and tell them that everything was fine. To walk away, and avoid the actual discussions that need to happen, and leave everything where it is.
But Pepper was right, and Tony is tired of feeling uncomfortable in his own home, and he can’t do this anymore.
“I don’t care what you think about this,” Tony starts, but no, that’s not right. “Wait, scratch that. I absolutely fucking care about what you guys think. Because you’re my friends, and this is who I am, and I can’t- you guys hating this part of me? Little bit of a deal-breaker.”
“We don’t hate you,” Clint says, and it’s because Clint who speaks up that Tony actually almost believes him.
Tony exhales slowly. “Okay. That’s- that’s good.”
“We’re confused,” Natasha tells him quietly. “This is new to us, and we want to understand.”
“And I get that, I do,” Tony says. “But I can’t… I’ll answer your questions, but I can’t sit here and have you pick apart my entire life until you’re satisfied with what I’m telling you. That’s not gonna happen. Google exists for a reason.”
“Says the man who never thought to Google this shit himself until Pepper did it first,” Rhodey mutters, and Tony can’t hold back his laugh.
“You know what, Rhodey? Screw you,” he says cheerfully. “I don’t have to research my own fucking life, and I do believe I prefaced this conversation by saying that I’m not the expert here. That would be Pepper, by the way-” Tony says to the other three. “-but maybe don’t text her aro questions out of the blue just yet.”
“That seems fair,” Steve says, and it’s not even meant as a joking comment. He’s taking the conversation seriously, they all are, and Tony can appreciate that- even if he doesn’t necessarily appreciate their intensity. “And I’m sorry if we’ve made you uncomfortable, Tony,” he continues. “That wasn’t… I didn’t want to do that. I don’t think any of us did.”
And before Tony can respond to that heartfelt apology, Natasha adds, “We’ve been doing that for a while now, I think. And I’m sorry about that too.”
Tony takes a deep breath. “Yeah. About that…”
It’s the part of the conversation that Tony absolutely does not want to have happen. But it’s also the part that’s the most necessary, because either Tony says this or nothing will change and this entire disaster of a coming-out would be completely pointless.
“The romantic talk? And the jokes about dating and trying to set me up and all that shit? It needs to stop,” Tony tells him. He hates this, hates having to stand up for himself in a way that’s genuine and serious rather than masked with a layer of cutting sarcasm and enlarged ego. “I get that that’s normal for you, that it’s normal for most people. I get that I’m an outlier here, I really do, but I can’t- I can’t keep getting dragged into conversations about people’s love lives. I can’t be part of your dating jokes anymore.”
“Does it bother you that much, really?” Clint’s tone is curious, not judgmental, and Tony is thankful for that.
“Yes, it does,” he says simply. “Like I said, I’m romance-repulsed. There is literal, actual repulsion about romantic things. If it’s on my terms, then I can handle it. But that shit that happened a few days ago? That can’t happen anymore. It just- it just can’t.”
Tony can’t give them an ultimatum, can’t tell them to leave him out of their romantic bullshit or get the fuck out of his Tower. He can’t even bring himself to tell them that he’ll be spending a lot more time down in workshop if this doesn’t change, because that’s not fair to them. It may be true, at least the workshop bit, but they’re still his friends, his teammates. He won’t emotionally manipulate them like that, even if it would make him feel more comfortable in his own home again.
But every single one of them, Natasha and Clint and Steve, are all nodding like this won’t be a problem at all. “We’ll try,” Steve tells him, and Tony wants to believe him so badly it almost hurts.
There’s no good way to end a conversation like this. There a moment of awkward silence, where everyone looks like they just want to bolt but they don’t know a good way to do that.
It’s Rhodey who saves the day, like he’s so good at doing. He pulls Tony to his feet and says, “Come on, let’s go call Pepper.”
Tony doesn’t miss the way Clint winces at that, but he waits until they’re in the safety of the elevator and heading back up to Tony’s floor before asking, “Did you just subtly threaten the Avengers with Pepper?”
“Is there a greater threat in this world than a pissed-off Pepper Potts?” Rhodey asks, and Tony just loses it.
It’s not even that funny of a quip, because actually it’s kind of scarily accurate, but Tony can’t seem to stop laughing. He leans against Rhodey for support as he just laughs and laughs, the stress from that conversation giving way to what probably sounds like hysteria, but he’s so far past the point of actually caring.
He stumbles out of the elevator, still gasping for breath and lets Rhodey lead him over to the living room and unceremoniously dump him down on the sofa.
“You good?” Rhodey asks when Tony’s laughter finally dies down enough for him to get a word in himself.
“God, who the fuck knows,” Tony tells him. “They do know now, right? Like that conversation wasn’t some strange fever-dream or something, it actually did happen?”
Rhodey leans down and presses the back of his hand to Tony’s forehead. “I don’t feel a fever, so it was probably real,” he says and Tony bats his hand away from his face. “Could be a shared hallucination, since I remember it too. Want to check with Jarvis though, just to be sure?”
“You fucking ass,” Tony says, but it comes out more fond than anything else. “Seriously, all I’m asking for is some emotional support-”
“Who are you and what have you done with Tony Stark?”
“-and this is the sort of bullshit I have to deal with instead,” Tony continues, ignoring Rhodey’s interruption completely. “What have I done to deserve such treatment?”
“Now who’s being a fucking ass?” Rhodey says with a laugh. Tony shoves at him, the attempt completely ineffective given his current position on the couch, and Rhodey just laughs even harder.
Tony grins and it feels natural, it feels okay, and some of his lingering anxiety starts to bleed away.
He knows that one conversation isn’t going to be enough to make the others understand, and that things won’t magically change overnight. But his teammates are still his friends, and until they find a new equilibrium Tony at least still has Rhodey and Pepper on his side. And speaking of which…
“Were you serious about calling Pepper?” Tony asks, pushing up so he’s mostly vertical. “Because I, for one, do not know if I can handle that conversation.”
“Talking to Pepper will be fine,” Rhodey tries to assure him, but it’s so obviously a lie that Rhodey can’t even keep a straight face. “Okay, no, telling Pepper what happened will probably go terribly but you have to do it.”
“Why?” Tony says, drawing out the word into a slight whine just to make Rhodey wince. “She’s just going to want to come back to New York early and strangle the Avengers.”
“Well, yes,” Rhodey admits. “But not telling her would be so much worse. Because she will find out eventually, and then not only will she want to strangle the Avengers but she will also want to strangle both of us for not looping her in on what went down.”
Its Tony’s turn to wince at that. “Yeah, oh god, yeah not updating her on this would be- wow yeah, okay let’s give her a call. Jarvis-”
Rhodey covers Tony’s mouth with his hand. “We don’t have to call right now, though,” he says gently. “We can, maybe, focus on something other than this for a few minutes first.”
And Tony wants to protest that no, he doesn’t need time to cool down from that conversation… but that would be a lie. Because Tony can’t get the image out of his mind of his teammates looking at him like he’s something broken, even if none of them said that word aloud. Because the anxiety hasn’t completely gone away. Because this will change everything, even if his teammates don’t think it will. Things will be different, but Tony doesn’t know exactly how things will go, and that’s… that’s not something he can just brush aside.
He pulls Rhodey’s hand away from his face and asks, “Can we just… watch horrible movies and get fucking shit-faced drunk, and pretend that today hasn’t happened?”
It’s barely one in the afternoon, too early to be socially acceptable to drink, and too early for Tony to be feeling this exhausted. And ignoring the situation isn’t a great coping mechanism, but the next time Tony leaves his rooms he won’t be able to ignore it and right now he needs that reprieve.
Rhodey knows that, and he doesn’t even bat an eye at Tony’s request. “Sure thing, Tones,” he says. “You want company on that couch, or should I take the chair?”
Tony still has Rhodey, and still has Pepper, and their status quo hasn’t changed. And in that moment, Tony is so grateful for that that he could actually cry.
“Couch is fine,” he says. “But stay at the other end.”
Rhodey nods. “Let me grab the beer first. Get a movie going, would you?”
“Yeah, of course,” Tony says, but the moment Rhodey’s back is turned he closes his eyes, takes one deep breath, a second one, releases them slowly and takes a moment to breathe before doing anything else.
Things are different, and he feels different, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. But he knows that if he wants to cuddle with Rhodey in a few hours, his friend will still let him without question and without expectations. Tomorrow, he’ll deal with the others. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the rest of the week and next month and this entire year. He’ll deal with them, and maybe things won’t get better, but maybe… maybe they will.
Tony doesn’t know how this will turn out, and he hates not knowing, but there’s no other option here.
Maybe, when he calls Pepper, he’ll get her to send him some links that he can throw at his teammates when they start asking too many questions. Or maybe he’ll follow-through with Rhodey’s thinly-veiled threat to the others and just sic her on the Avengers. Force them to learn everything about aromantic identities through professional-crafted PowerPoint presentations.
He snorts at the mental image because god, that is so tempting.
“Everything okay?” Rhodey asks, nudging Tony’s legs until he pulls them up so there’s space at the other end of the couch for Rhodey to sit.
“Yeah,” Tony says, and it doesn’t feel like as much of a lie as he was expecting. “Yeah, I think it is.” He grins at Rhodey and snags a beer for himself. “So, what do you want to watch?”