Secrets Don't Make Friends

Chapter 4: A Gang of Heath-hens

Chapter 4:

Tony was up early the next morning, and not by choice. He had set the alarm on his watch to match the schedule Rogers had given him, which he had scratched down onto a little slip of paper and shoved into his pocket. With a jaw cracking yawn he rolled out of bed, rubbing at the slightly chilled flesh of his arms. 

 It would have been nice to have a blanket, but after the night he had, he wasn't up to asking Rogers for anything. Not even the basic amenities. He didn't know if Rogers had withheld the blanket on purpose and it was one of those situations where good behavior would earn him basic human privileges, or if it was just a simple oversight. To be honest, he really didn't want to know. 

 Massaging the back of his neck he stood up, not bothering to change his clothes, Tony slipped out of his room and down the hallway. Nothing happened in his day until he had a cup of coffee in his hand. Bleary eyed, he padded softly downstairs, mindful to be quiet in case the Captain was sleeping. 

The last thing Tony wanted was a confrontation with Rogers before his requisite 2 cups of morning coffee. Tony was not exactly what one would call a morning person.

Rhodey had teased him mercilessly in college about his need for coffee, had even gotten him a mug as big as his head that read "No talkie before coffee". 

It had been nice, Tony mused fondly, to have a friend. One who saw and knew his true self. Being a 13 year old on a college campus had been...awkward and alienating. Luckily he had made a friend in Rhodey, and the old Sourpatch hadn't been able to shake him since. 

Tony scratched at the stubble on his jaw. Colonel Rhodes was not going to be happy when he got back from deployment and found out about Tony's mating to Steve. He was out of the country on a top secret mission. Blah blah blah. Something about a terrorist organization. Tony wasn't worried for his friend, he was -afterall- rocking War Machine.

Everyone assumed that Yinsen had been the one to build and design the suit that saved Tony's life all those years ago in Afghanistan. He had, after all, spent a lifetime cultivating an image of a womanizing partier who rarely took anything seriously - including his education.

 When asked about it, and about the identity of Iron Man, Tony would smile vapidly into the camera and admit that he had been instrumental to the making of Iron man; he had the very important task of picking out the color of the suit. His idea. Red and gold, wasn't that flashy? Probably the most important part, right? 

 As far as who piloted the suit? Well someone much smarter than him, that was for sure. One of the scientists at the lab who wished his identity to remain a secret. You know how it is. He'd smile and shrug, turn to watch with the crowd as Iron Man cut through the sky above them all.

Rhodey told him he played the part of a self absorbed, none too bright, Alpha a little too well. Tony had a lot of practice over the years hiding who he was, his true self, from the public and acquaintances. He wasn't allowed to show the sharp and cutting intellect behind the façade his father had demanded he erect. The reasoning being that if anyone ever found out that he was an Omega, every project he had ever worked on would be questioned. They'd lose funding, supporters. It absolutely rankled that Howard had been right. Look at what had happened to him now, for chrissakes. He wasn't even CEO of the company anymore and that hadn't been enough to keep the sharks at bay. They had been out for blood.

Rhodey of course knew the truth. There weren't many secrets that Tony kept from his good friend.

Tony stumbled around down stairs in the dark, having not paid attention to where any of the light switches were during the infamous tour yesterday. When he stubbed his toe on the corner of a chair while passing through the dining room, Tony blew out a frustrated breath and muffled a curse. He missed Jarvis. With an AI in charge of the household there was no such thing as stumbling around in the dark or brewing his own coffee.