Come Together

Chapter 19: Stark on the Run

"I didn't think you would be coming back to England so early."

Howard Stark flashed his signature smile at a rather cross looking Tom, which seemed to simply bounce off of the perturbed wizard. To be fair, this was because the millionaire was currently standing in his living room covered in soot from the fireplace at three o'clock in the bloody morning. Despite his slightly scuffed appearance, Howard laughed in what could almost be considered a hearty tone if there wasn't that tinge of exhaustion that belied his true feelings.

"Why? Can't I show up for a little vacation once in a while?" Howard's answer was as nonchalant as usual, brushing himself off as best he could as he looked around Tom's apartment for the first time. A low whistle. "Jeez, this place is smaller than my shower!"

One of the glowy eagles (what did he call 'em... Patronus?) in the living room chose at that moment to screech, making the scientist jump nearly a foot in the air and scattering some soot onto the carpet. Tom gave him a level stare, flicking his wand as his nightclothes changed into his regular day clothes—suspenders, vest, and all—and the soot vanished from the floor and from Howard.

"You think we don't get the news across the pond?" A newspaper is grasped with long, nimble fingers and thrown to the part of the kitchen table where Howard now sat. On it were the headlines MILLIONAIRE, PLAYBOY, TRAITOR? HOWARD STARK'S WEAPONS IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY

"I'm being framed." was the immediate answer, having not even looked at the paper to know its contents.

"You're a great many things, Howard. But a traitor is not one of them." Tom sighed out, puttering around his kitchen, preparing some tea in an uncharacteristically cute white teapot with tiny blue flowers on it. "You must have been truly desperate to have used the Floo Powder I gave you."

He also drove a boat to a more abandoned household so he didn't accidentally burn anything major down. That powder was volatile. He'd also tried experimenting with it during the war to see if it would work on inanimate objects since instant delivery sounded fun - though preferably making sure it worked in a way that didn't have your mail being eaten by the fireplace. It had not gone well and Tom had cackled at him for the whole week before he was nice enough to magic back his eyebrows and mustache.

"Hey, hey, I just took an overseas trip in under a minute, and we kept most of the magic stuff under wraps from even most of the SSR." Howard accepted the tea with a hand, looking into it to make sure it was dark and strong, "They can't track me here. Especially since I didn't use a plane or a train or even a boat. In the meantime I can lay low and figure out what those bastards did with my stuff."

Whatever they were planning, it had to be big. Since whatever was happening in the States involved his Nitramine formula and whatever else hadn't left the country yet—it would be catastrophic. After all, he invented them. They were bound to cause trouble in the wrong hands. The last thing anyone needed was Red Skull wannabes popping up all over the place right after the war was over.

It was in times like these that he was grateful that Tom took the Technomancy line with him when the SSR left, having explained that the Statute of Secrecy only went as far as the War since Grindelwald and Hydra had been involved. Now that the war was over, the best way to prevent any of the Americans from getting merc'ed by the magical government there (MUHCOOSA? MACUSA?) was to keep the magical stuff in the magical world. Which was a shame, but now he was grateful since the wizards have other, more accurate ways of tracking people that mess with them. And cared less about whatever 'muggle' laws existed.

"I thought you vowed to, and I quote, 'Never jump into a fireplace with the magic green portal powder'." The younger man drawled out, taking a sip from his teacup—whose liquid was a distinctly lighter shade, "So now that you're here, I suppose I could find a hotel up to your standard-"