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So the Rogues are pardoned and Scott is ready.
He’ll apologize to Mr. Stark, he owed it to the man, after finding out what really happened in Siberia, what the Civil War had really been about. He’d spend weeks, months, trying to find the right words, writing them down and then discarding them until his room in Wakanda looked like that of a writer gone rogue (hah).
And then it’s finally time and they're back in America, in the compound that everyone else calls home and they're greeted by the New Avengers, all of them glowering and mistrustful. And he can see Hope right at the front, not even looking at him (it hurts, but he deserves it).
Enter Tony Stark, stage left from an entrance most of them probably weren't even aware of, going by the startled half-movement of the spy twins.
Mr. Stark pauses half-way, right in the middle ground between the old and the New Avengers - his hair is immaculate, his suit fitting perfectly, his tie adorned with tiny little War Machines, and if Scott wasn't so guilt ridden, and if Hope wasn't still focusing her cold gaze on a spot just over his shoulder, Scott would almost be tempted to call the man lovely.
And none of the others seem very inclined to say anything as Mr. Stark musters them with calculating (pretty brown) eyes. Rogers opens his mouth, closes it averts his gaze.
Romanoff fidgets, stiffens.
Rogers squares his shoulders and opens his mouth again, looks at Mr. Stark, deflates, closes his mouth again, averts his gaze.
Someone on the other side of the room snickers.
Scott can't take it anymore, the silence is dragging into painfully awkward territory and he can feel the guilt in his chest press upwards, tasting like bile in his throat and pushing, pushing -
He takes a step forward then another one and has to force himself to take a third one, to come to stand right in front of the Mr. Stark (brilliant, genius, the wet dream of engineers and mechanics all over the world - there are flecks of gold in his eyes, too), when the man turns his eyes towards him without moving his head.
Scott thrusts out his hand (cold and clammy and shaking, goddamnit, at least some dignity would have been nice, though) and holds it there awkwardly as Mr. Stark just keeps staring at him with a pleasantly neutral expression.
“Mr. Stark,” he lets his hand sink, slowly, when it becomes painfully obvious that Mr. Stark won't take it (cue another snicker from the audience). Even his voice is quivering.
“I wanted to apologize, for my actions and all of the damage I’ve caused,” he’d gone with the shortest version (the best sounding shortest version, because he'd had the feeling that just sorry and thanks wouldn't have got over very well at all).
Hope is looking at him now. Scrutinizing, considering, beautiful. When his eyes flicker back to Mr. Stark those same words flit through Scotts mind and really, this isn't fair. He wishes that the people around him would just stop being so damn attractive all of the time, he's getting Confused (what else is new).
Behind him the Rogues shift, uncomfortable, unsettled, uncharitable.
He swallows, continues, “And I wanted to thank you, for this second chance, the pardons and for looking out for my little girl. I won't disappoint you again.”
He still hears Cassie’s voice in his head, - and Mr. Stark is so nice, daddy! He made sure we could afford the homeschooling and Mr. Stark said my science project is gonna be the coolest and Mr. Stark said he’s gonna take me and Peter and Harley and the Barton Band to the zoo, if we all finish our homework in time, so I gotta go now, daddy, love you -
The silence is stretching again and there’s an itch right on the bridge of his nose, but he doesn't dare to raise his hand, to move even an inch (he pretends it’s for his dignity, not out of anything silly like fear).
And then, just like that, Mr. Stark’s eyes soften, the crows feet around them growing more prominent even if the man isn't outright smiling at him (Jesus Christ, but it’s no wonder Rogers is so hung up on the guy; he gets it now, silently apologizes for all uncharitable thought he'd had about Rogers’ moping during their exile).
“To be disappointed, one must have had expectations, Mr. Lang,” Mr. Stark says, and there's definite amusement in his voice as well (his deep, smooth voice, Scott is pretty sure now that he's having a stroke). It stings, but it’s the truth. He wonders if it’s the truth for Hope as well (for her he chose the longest apology, because he'd never been able to hold in the words around her, unlike Tony Stark who seems to make him tongue tied, of all the indignities).
Then Mr. Stark huffs a laugh and inclines his head towards him, just a bit, in something that feels a lot like absolution and grins with all his teeth.
“Now get out of my way, ant boy, no one told me Hope van Dyne would be here today.”
He struts past him, towards Hope with open arms and presses a kiss to her cheek when she steps right into them (and now Scott is definitely having a stroke, he should have called Cassie during the car ride, not waited until the whole ordeal was over -)
Rogers steps forward just as Tony links his arm with Hope’s and makes to move towards the exit, opens his mouth.
“Cassie is waiting in conference room seven, Mr. Lang,” Mr. Stark says over his shoulder, throwing Scott a wink that has him feel faint coupled with the softening of Hope’s eyes.
They exit center stage with the rest of the New Avengers trailing after them and Scott feels like their looks aren't quite as judgmental as before.
Rogers closes his mouth, staring after them with a lost expression on his face and turns to Scott; opens his mouth.
“You don't happen to know where conference room seven is, do you?” He asks.
Rogers’ mouth closes with a click.