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The kid had curled up into a tiny ball in the plush armchair of principal Fury’s office. He hadn’t looked up once since entering, completely focused on drawing some kind of blueprints in his notebook. Hopefully he’d get along with Steve, their resident art teacher. Fury let his eye drift back to the kid’s guardian, a polite man with salt and pepper hair and a British accent.
”Mr Jarvis, why do you feel our school would be a good fit for Tony?”
Jarvis glanced at Tony with a soft, but worried smile.
”Tony got diagnosed just recently. His father had quite the opinion about disabilities and Tony was always quick to believe anything that bastard told him. I want him in an environment where he can learn that being different isn’t a bad thing. It is also very hard to find schools that are ready to meet his needs.”
”I see. Will his opinions get him into trouble with the other students?”
”I doubt it, sir. Tony internalizes most of it. Besides, he’s been homeschooled so far and never really spent much time with other kids. He doesn’t really know what neurotypical kids are like. But my nephew has Downs syndrome and the two of them usually get along. Or, well… Tony doesn’t interact much, but there’s never been any problems between them.”
”And you’re aware, Mr Jarvis, that we have students with all kinds of disabilities and even quite a few without any. Our school specializes in kids who need extra support, no matter the situation. We have traumatized kids, kids with physical disabilities, kids with ADHD, depression, eating disorders, spinal injuries, epilepsy, you name it. A lot of them are neurotypicals and most of them are expected to be able to graduate and hold down normal jobs in the future.”
”That is actually why we’re here. I hope to see Tony go to college one day - he certainly has the brains for it. But his autism isn’t the only struggle he has and this school is advertised to be able to handle everything from pain management to PTSD, as well as a number of disabilities.”
Fury let his eye drift down to Tony’s file. Everything from the court battle that ended with Mr Jarvis taking over guardianship, to his medical records, together painting a gruesome picture of the kid’s early years. Fury looked back at the eight-year-old, whose blueprints now distinctly resembled a car engine.
”Welcome to Shield Academy of the Arts.”
Principal Fury swooped into the teachers’s lounge, after sitting in a meeting most of the morning. He looked serious as ever, single eye sweeping over every single one of them before talking.
”Listen up people! We’ll be getting a new student, starting next week. He was drawing the entire meeting so I want him in art classes with Steve to begin with. I also want Bruce to evaluate his knowledge of science and put him in a fitting class, kid may well be a technological genius.”
Fury took a deep breath and sat down on the couch.
”His name is Tony, he’s eight years old and he was recently diagnosed with autism. His father abused him and he is now under the legal guardianship of his father’s former butler, Mr Jarvis. His father let him hang out in his lab, where he was once caught in an explosion, shrapnel damaging his chest. He suffers from PTSD and chronic pain, which is why I want him to see Sam regularly. He used to be homeschooled, so the amount of people here might be overwhelming at first. I expect you all to take good care of him.”
With that Fury stormed out, leaving a heavy silence behind him. The teachers all shared glances.
”Poor kid”, muttered Bucky eventually, before getting up and getting ready for class.
Tony had gotten to the classroom a good twenty minutes before the first lesson started. He’d chosen a seat in the back of the room, and furthest from the door, so that no one would need to walk behind him to get to their seat.
The room had soft blue walls with nothing on them. Some of the schools he and Jarvis had looked at had had drawings and classroom rules and posters with kittens all over the walls. This was better. This was calming. Tony patted his noise cancelling headphones where they rested around his neck, making sure they were there. His hands moved up to tug at his hair. He hated new places. His head never wanted to shut up in new places. There was to much to look at, unfamiliar noises and smells. Oh, God, the smells in some of the schools they’d looked at. One place he’d turned around in just inside the door, Jarvis apologizing to the headmaster as they walked out of there.
This place didn’t smell bad, which was good. Though there were ten desks in the room, which likely meant a lot of people, which was bad. Not that ten people would usually be considered many, Tony knew that ten was a pretty small class, but he thought that anyone more than Jarvis and his mother was many. His mother. He hadn’t seen her in a long time, which he should probably be upset about, but he didn’t think he was. He was more upset that Jarvis wasn’t with him here now.
The door opened and a man dressed in a grey suit walked in. He smiled softly at Tony and came over to him, stopping at a good distance. A safe distance.
”You must be Tony”, he said calmly, with a polite nod. He didn’t try to shake Tony’s hand, which he was glad for. ”My name is Phil Coulson and I teach…”
”English”, Tony interrupted. ”I know, I read the schedule. I also read that you teach history, on Fridays. I don’t like history. And I don’t always like to talk. And I don’t like people or weird smells or loud noises.”
Phil just smiled softly.
”Thank you for telling me that, Tony, that’s very good to know. May I ask what you do like?”
Tony started ripping at his nail beds to have something to do with his hands. The rhythm soothed him. Rip, rip, rip. A sound outside the window, caused him to look out. The other students were arriving, yelling and running.
”Tony?”
He turned back to Phil Coulson, who was looking at him calmly despite being ignored. Or not ignored, Jarvis said that ignore was something you chose to do and Tony didn’t choose. He just got distracted. Dad would have yelled at him anyway, and when Tony started rocking and humming, like he did sometimes when he got anxious, dad would grab his wrists and shake him until it hurt. Jarvis said that that’s why they didn’t stay with dad anymore. Tony hated when dad touched him. It always hurt. When mom touched him wasn’t much better. It was too soft and fluttery, he got anxious just thinking about it. Touch was supposed to be firm.
He could tell he was getting anxious, thinking like this, scratching at his nail beds in a faster tempo. Phil Coulson seemed to notice it too, because he put a hand over Tony’s, touch firm but not hurting.
”Would you like something to fiddle with? So you don’t have to hurt yourself? Some of my students like to fiddle with rubber bands or stress balls.”
Tony stared at the hand covering his until Phil Coulson moved it.
”Lego”, he said then. ”I like to build things.”
Phil Coulson smiled wider.
”Thank you for telling me that, Tony. Do you have your own lego or do you want to borrow some?”
”I have. I have at home. I could maybe borrow some today. What colors do you have?”
”All of them”, Phil Coulson said, still smiling. Did the man ever not smile? It was a little weird. Tony didn’t know teachers could be happy. His previous teacher, Mrs Carson, had never smiled.
”Red”, he decided, not really having to think about it. ”I like red.”
Tony didn’t say anything during the lesson, and Phil didn’t pressure him. He watched him fiddle with the two red pieces of lego, putting them together and pulling them apart. It wasn’t completely quiet, like the school wanted fidget toys to be, but none of the other students seemed bothered and Tony was calm, so Phil decided to let it be. Tony didn’t look at him as he was teaching, but when he handed out worksheets, Tony dutifully put away the lego and filled in the blanks. Mostly correctly, he discovered with a glance.
The lesson went almost unusually well, to Phil’s great relief. Truth be told, he had been nervous. They needed to gain Tony’s trust from the beginning and try to not overwhelm him too much on his first day. A calm first lesson, without tantrums or arguments between students was as good as anyone could hope for. Now, hopefully, the rest of the day would continue in the same fashion.
Tony flinched when the bell rang, despite the sound being soft and melodic enough that most students weren’t bothered. As the students started packing up their things, Phil walked over.
”Do you know where your next class is?” he asked, making sure, as always, to keep his tone soft.
”No”, Tony murmured. ”It’s A9, but I don’t know where that is.”
Phil nodded and let his eyes drift over the students in the process of leaving the room.
”James, hold up a second.” The boy in question halted and turned his wheelchair around. ”You have art with Steve next, right? Would you mind showing Tony the way?”
”Of course, Phil, no problem. Tony, huh? Come along this way.”
Tony sent Phil a grateful smile and scrambled to catch up with the other student.
James broke the silence almost immediately. Tony tried to really pay attention, keeping his eyes on the other boy so he wouldn’t get distracted. He was sure he wouldn’t make any friends if he was impolite. Not that he was sure he needed friends. He didn’t really know how to play with others anyway. The rules to other children's games never made any sense. Why would they pretend to be cowboys when they obviously weren’t cowboys? Were they stupid?
”So I know the teachers call me James, but all my friends say Rhodey, okay?”
”What kind of a name is Rhodey?”
Was that an impolite thing to say? He didn’t know. Probably. But James just laughed.
”My full name is James Rhodes, and James is a pretty common name. I prefer Rhodey.”
”My name is Anthony Edward Stark, but I prefer Tony.”
Rhodey laughed again. Tony didn’t understand why, but it didn’t seem to be in a mean way. Not that he was very good at judging people’s intentions.
”Nice to meet you, Tony. How old are you?”
”Eight.”
”Eight? But you’re in fourth grade! I mean, a lot of people aren’t in the grade they should be here, like me, but it’s usually the other way around.”
”I was homeschooled. I don’t know what grade I should be in.”
”Okay, well I’m almost eleven, so I should be in fifth grade, but when I broke my back I was in the hospital for a long time, so I missed a year.”
Tony hadn’t asked, but Rhodey didn’t seem to mind - he just kept talking. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to make friends after all. Tony kept staring at the other boy, forcefully trying to keep concentrated like dad had tried to teach him. People saying something was always the important thing to focus on. Always.
Suddenly someone bumped into him. It felt like hitting a wall and fire immediately spread through his chest, like he was back in dad’s workshop when that engine exploded. It left the rest of his skin crawling with pins and needles and he fell, landing hard on the floor. He thought he could hear someone shouting, but honestly there were too many sounds for him to be sure. His entire skin felt like it was on fire now and everything around him was color and noise. He scratched at his arms, hoping to claw out the flame. Then hands wrapped around his wrists, firm but not hurting. It still made him panic.
Logically, he knew he was overreacting. Dad had always told him that since normal people didn’t throw tantrums, he shouldn’t either. But those hands around his wrists, touching his oversensitive skin. He felt the vibrations in his chest as he screamed and started trashing.
His wrists were transfered into one huge hand, the other moving to wrap around him in a firm hug. Not too soft, like his mother’s hugs, but firm and safe like Jarvis’s. Suddenly, he really wanted Jarvis. He felt himself relaxing into the hug.
His skin wasn’t burning quite so badly and he gradually realized that it was quiet and dark. He raised his eyes and discovered that a blond man who had to be a teacher was holding him. They were in a classroom with the blinds drawn and lights shut off. It was only the teacher and Rhodey in the room with him. As he looked at Rhodey, the other boy held out a glass of water.
”I don’t like to be handed things”, Tony murmured.
Rhodey immediately leaned over and placed the glass on the floor next to him. Tony took it carefully.
”I’m sorry”, he mumbled after drinking. Don’t mumble, Tony! Speak up so people can hear you!
”You don’t need to apologize, Tony”, said the blond man. ”You got overwhelmed. It happens.”
”Pietro is really sorry for bumping into you”, added Rhodey. ”You’re not supposed to run in the hall, but sometimes he can’t help it. He’s got too much energy.”
”Pietro knows that he should go to the gym if he needs to run around”, said the blond man, a bit sternly. ”Tony, my name is Steve Rogers. I teach art and gym here.”
Tony nodded. He knew he should say something, but his words seemed to have run away. Besides, if he wasn’t supposed to apologize, what else could he say?
”Tony, have you met Sam? The therapist.”
Tony nodded silently, despite wanting to add that the man's full name was Sam Wilson and he had his office next to principal Nick Fury’s.
”Do you want to come to class and draw something or do you want to go see Sam?”
Tony shrugged. He couldn’t exactly answer that without talking.
”Do you want to draw something?”
Tony shook his head.
”Do you want to go see Sam?”
Tony shrugged, before nodding.
”Okay. James, you can go to class. Tell Maria that I’ll be right there.”
Tony wanted to ask if he meant Maria Hill, the paraprofessional, but he still couldn’t find his words.
”See you later, Tony. Feel better, okay?”
Tony nodded and watched the wheels of Rhodey’s chair spin as he left the room.
Steve sighed as he walked back towards the classroom after dropping Tony off. The kid had seemed lost in his own head, barely acknowledging those around him. Thankfully, Sam had a lot of experience handling situations like these. Not that Steve was completely lost - he knew not to grab an overwhelmed kid if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, but Tony had been scratching his arms until they bled. And the way he’d apologized after he’d calmed down was worrying, as well. Like someone had taught him that he wasn’t supposed to have meltdowns. Meltdowns were awful, sure, but they were never the kid’s fault. He firmly believed that.
The lesson was almost over when he walked into the classroom, but the kids were all happily drawing or painting. Maria had a lot of experience with improvisation - they all had, really. They could never know when something like this would happen, but whenever it did, someone had to take control over the situation and whoever was free was tasked with taking over the first persons job. They had all done it. Once, Steve had held a dance lesson while Nat talked a kid down from a panic attack. He shuddered at the thought. Oh, well. At least the kids had had fun laughing at his dance moves.
Sam Wilson didn’t try to force him to talk. Instead he showed him a room where he could stay for a bit if he wanted too. The room was full of mattresses and pillows and it was dark without being too dark. A soft blue light filled the space, sweeping slowly around in fascinating patterns. Sam Wilson gave him a weighted blanket that he could use if he wanted to. It wasn’t his own and it smelled like other people, but it still worked pretty well. He wrapped himself tightly in the blanket and despite the room being pretty silent he put on the noise cancelling headphones. Then he sat down, safe in his little cocoon and watched the light swirl, wondering about how the lamp worked and if he could perhaps build his own so he’d be able to watch the light at home too.
Bruce knocked before leaning against the doorway to Sam’s office.
”I heard there was a meltdown, earlier.”
Sam nodded. ”Yeah. He’s in the sensory cave, now.”
”I’m free until lunch, thought I’d see if he wanted to talk science. I’ve still got to evaluate him.”
Sam grimaced thoughtfully. ”He was non-verbal earlier. But you could try.”
If Tony hadn’t been looking at how the blue light played over the door, he wouldn’t have noticed it opening. He cringed a little as yellow light flowed in through the door, but dutifully removed his headphones, certain that his time in the cozy room was over.
”Hello Tony”, the man said in a very soft voice, closing the door behind him, so the room was once again dark and blue. ”My name is Bruce Banner. I teach science. I was wondering if you wanted to come see the lab and the workshop?”
Tony hesitated. Last time he’d been in a workshop he’d gotten hurt. But he had so many ideas in his head that he couldn’t think sometimes and he wanted to build them. Maybe Bruce Banner would let him try to build a blue light?
”I want to build my own light”, he said, pointing at said light.
”Okay”, said Bruce Banner. ”Do you know how it works?”
Tony kept looking at the light as he answered. ”Almost.”
”Okay. Why don’t we take it with us, and then we can take it apart to see how it works?”
Tony liked Bruce Banner.
You weren’t really supposed to eat in the workshop, Bruce Banner explained, but today was an exception. Tony ate the sandwich Jarvis had made for him as he watched the nightlight they’d made. It had a circular surface and when you plugged it into an outlet it glowed blue, just like the light in the sensory cave. They were testing it now, and Tony really liked how the light moved and played over the walls. It was mesmerizing enough that Bruce Banner had to remind him to eat every once in a while.
Pretty soon Bruce Banner had a class to teach: fourth grade biology. Bruce Banner had asked if he wanted to learn biology with the older students so it would be more difficult but Tony didn’t think biology was all that easy and he kind of wanted to see Rhodey again. They agreed that Tony could take harder classes in chemistry, physics and maths. Bruce Banner would see about setting up a workshop or robotics class and maybe some programming. Tony really liked Bruce Banner. Good thing he was teaching fourth grade biology next.
Rhodey greeted him happily when he walked into classroom B4. He’d even saved him a seat in the back of the class, closest to the window. Rhodey was great.
”Hey, you’re the new kid”, said the boy who sat in front of him, turning around in his chair and leaning over Tony’s desk. ”What’s your deal?”
”Clint!” hissed Rhodey. ”Don’t be rude!” He accompanied the words by some weird gestures with his hands.
Tony didn’t really know how to answer and he was still a bit tired from the tantrum, so he didn’t say anything. Clint started moving his hands the same way Rhodey had, looking at him questioningly. Tony threw an anxious glance at Rhodey and started fiddling with the lego Phil Coulson had given him.
”Hey, calm down”, said Rhodey soothingly. ”Clint’s deaf so we talk sign language to help him understand. That’s why there’s an interpreter here.” He pointed at a woman in the front of the room that Tony’d never noticed before. ”He can be an asshole sometimes, but he’s really a good guy.” Rhodey turned back to Clint, signing as he explained. ”Tony has autism. Today has been a bit overwhelming.”
”Oh. Sorry, man”, said Clint.
Tony wanted to ask why a nine or ten year old boy would call an eight-year-old ”man”, but his words were missing. Clint didn’t seem to care that he didn’t get a response. He kept talking.
”You should learn sign language for when you don’t feel like talking. I could teach you, it would be great!”
By the end of class Tony had decided that he kind of liked Clint as well.
Tony was so happy to see Jarvis that he let the man hug him. It was a good hug. He wasn’t really up to talking much yet, but he could smile and he eagerly showed Jarvis the light he’d made, while Jarvis helped him with his jacket and outside-shoes. Bruce Banner walked up to them and shook hands with Jarvis, telling him about building the light in the workshop. He also explained why Tony had wanted to build the light in the first place and why there were red lines on his arms. Jarvis nodded and asked questions that Tony didn’t really listen to. There was too much noise as all students where milling around, looking for jackets and hats and their parents. He put on his headphones and pulled the pieces of lego from his pocket while he waited.
Pretty soon the grownups were done, so he waved goodbye to Bruce Banner and followed Jarvis out of the school. He was really tired, but also kind of excited. Clint had promised to start teaching him sign language tomorrow, and Rhodey had promised that they would eat lunch together every day, because he understood that Tony liked routines, and that boy Pietro had apologized for running into him, and Steve Rogers had promised that he could draw blueprints in art class if he wanted to. And if he ever got overwhelmed there was this nice blue room, that Sam Wilson called a sensory cave, where he could stay until he calmed down. He’d been right about there being a lot of people in school, but this place was way better than being homeschooled by Mrs Carson. He liked it.