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When they finally got back to the Tower, the lights were dim and the food they’d picked up for lunch was still sitting where they’d left it. Tony slumped immediately onto the couch, and Rhodey smirked at the passable impression of a human noodle. Iron Man was definitely down for the count; it was up to War Machine to survey the damages. Gathering together the cartons of their abandoned meal, Rhodey cleared the table and tried to decide whether or not he could salvage the talk he’d planned on having ---he checked the clock--- eleven hours ago.
Something about a robot spider attack never failed to snap the thread of conversation. He might have perfected maintaining a constant stream of banter while he and Tony one-upped each other during a fight, but it was hard to have a serious discussion while battling the techno-edition of Eight Legged Freaks.
Rhodey sank onto the couch beside Tony, careful not to aggravate the bruise colony on his back. For a minute, he just breathed and readjusted to being outside the armor, realigned the space his mind was trying to occupy. When he got a grip on it, he sighed and leaned back gently. “Next time I call a day ‘peaceful’, feel free to throw something at my head in the seconds before everything goes up in smoke.”
The genius-shaped puddle next to him grunted and tipped sideways into his shoulder. Rhodey let him, but if there was another drooling incident, there were going to be repercussions.
“Don’t supervillains ever take vacations?” he continued in a tired mutter. “Or at least take cues from a source other than Johnny Quest?”
Tony grumbled something about Dr. Quest that didn’t sound very kind.
He gestured expansively at nothing. “What were robot spiders even supposed to accomplish?”
“Robot spider webs?” Tony hypothesized, barely audible and clearly exhausted, cheek squashed against Rhodey’s shoulder. “Robot spider webs of questionable construction.”
A sound usually made in reference to puppies came from their left. “Oh, this looks very sad.”
Rhodey glanced up as Pepper walked through the doorway. She was still in her suit, but the jacket and shoes were gone. Judging from the ink smudges on her face, she’d brought work home, but there weren’t any papers in her hands right then. Her smile was a line drawn halfway between fondness and exasperation. It was extremely relatable.
With his eyes still shut, Tony reached out in her direction, hand plaintively open. “I was attacked by robot spiders. Comfort me, Pep.”
Pepper’s amusement seemed a tad incredulous, but she took Tony’s hand and let herself be pulled onto the cushions. The movement led to a precarious balance that ended with her leaning into Tony’s side. Rhodey had just become the last bastion of verticalness. He would bear the responsibility with heroic fortitude.
His stomach growled in defiance. “Dinner,” Rhodey remembered abruptly. They hadn’t eaten since the bites they’d managed at lunch. “Food.”
“JARVIS,” Tony responded like he’d had an epiphany.
“I will take care of it, sir.”
Tony waved an imaginary flag with his free hand and gave a weak cheer.
It made Rhodey smile. His jaw was bruised, and it hurt, but the smile was easy--- which was a good metaphor for a lot of moments in their friendship, really.
“I should get changed,” Pepper said. She didn’t move.
“Or: sleep and then pizza and then more sleep.”
“Tony has good ideas,” Rhodey agreed. As soon as he said it, his brain helpfully supplied him with images of all the times when Tony hadn’t had a good idea (including such stylings as breaking up with someone to the lyrics of Bye Bye Baby by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons), but the thought of sleep and a slice of cheesy heaven had taken the wheel. Hopefully, Tony would forget about it and not ask JARVIS for a sound bite later.
Pepper made a skeptical noise. “Are you sure? Tony wanted to turn the mansion into a public haunted house for Halloween.”
Oh dear god in heaven. What would the logistics be? Would the Avengers be the scare squad? Security would be a nightmare. Rhodey knew that. It was tactically untenable. Nevertheless, what came out of this mouth was, “Awesome.”
“Right?” Tony managed through a yawn. “Rhodey gets me.”
Pepper hid her face in Tony’s shoulder and sighed. “Ugh.”
Rhodey’s smile widened, and he tipped his head back against the couch, eyes on the ceiling.
This was a good life. He was a superhero, his world was in constant motion, he didn’t need a jet to fly, and he had the sorts of friends who would turn the world on its head for one another. They were a team. He was happy.
Before he could overthink it, Rhodey blurted, “I’m on the shortlist of people being considered as military liaisons to alien worlds.”
That changed the atmosphere pretty damn quick. Tony stiffened beside him, and Pepper lifted her head. Rhodey didn’t have a follow-up statement prepared. He wished he did, and that probably had a lot to do with why he’d finally said something. He needed to talk it out, but every time he’d tried it before, he’d second-guessed himself or been interrupted by sci-fi horror movie rejects.
Tony shifted like he was going to try and sit up straight. It didn’t happen. He prodded Rhodey in the thigh instead. “Do you want to be a military liaison to alien worlds?”
“I don’t know,” Rhodey admitted, distractedly scratching at the upholstery with his thumb.
When he was in fifth grade, his teacher had hung model jets from the ceiling of the classroom. Rhodey’s seat had been by the window, and he used to look at the sky and the watch the jets spin as they got caught in the air conditioning. Every picture he’d drawn of himself and his friends in art class that year featured them as pilots. He’d known what he wanted to do with his life since he was ten years old, and everything since then had been steps he’d taken to get himself along that road.
He’d always been so certain.
“Aliens weren’t something I ever planned on,” Rhodey said, and that might have been the root of it. Well, that and the other thing he wasn’t ready to talk about yet. “Let alone being in a position to represent the planet to them, you know?”
“How short is the shortlist?” Pepper asked.
“Three people, including me.” And one of them had already said she wasn’t wild about taking the job.
Pepper gave a contemplative hum. “Did they give you a time frame for their decision?”
“Two weeks from Friday.” He’d known about it for a month, and the candidate pool had just kept getting smaller. This was the last stretch, and he still hadn’t parsed out how he felt. It was a major career choice that he’d never even considered until he’d gotten that phone call. Nine times out of ten, he could listen to his ambition, could feel a definite pull in one direction or the other, and capitalize on it--- he wasn’t finding that easy here.
“Well, would the work interest you at all?” Tony asked, sounding slightly more awake than he had in the past half hour.
Rhodey gave the top of his head a disbelieving look. “Alien worlds, Tony.”
“I see your point, and I would like to highlight the fact that I’d be asking less obvious questions if I had pizza.”
“The delivery service is en route, sir.”
“Thank you, JARVIS,” they chorused in tandem.
A few beats of silence followed.
“What would the position entail, exactly?” Pepper ventured before it got awkward.
“I’ll be paired up with some civilian diplomats.” None of whom had been chosen yet, so that was going to be another gamble. “We’ll be the main points of contact whenever there’s an encounter with another alien race, on a broader and more public level than SHIELD.”
“And the Asgardians seem to think an increasing frequency of encounters is a guarantee,” Tony said. He prodded him again. “What are you thinking, buddy?”
“I’m thinking I’d be good at it, but I don’t know if I want it.” And if he was gone all the time, who would have Iron Man’s back? The Avengers had a tendency to get scattered across the planet, or the whole wide universe where Thor was concerned. “I think it’s a smart career move, but…”
When more wasn’t forthcoming, Pepper prompted, “But…?”
Rhodey gave a single-syllable laugh that would have sounded like a challenge to people who didn’t know him well but sounded nervous to the people who did. “Yeah, I didn’t have an ending to that sentence.”
“Well, something is holding you back.” The frown was evident in Tony’s voice. “No ideas what it is?”
Yes. “No.”
There was another sharp jab to his thigh. “False.”
Right. Keeping stuff from Tony: not a viable strategy. Rhodey sighed, shook his head, and gave up the ghost. “I’m worried that if I take a trip offworld, there’ll be trouble here that I can’t help with.”
Pepper reached across Tony and squeezed his arm. If anyone could appreciate the risks of taking a heavy career decision on one’s shoulders, it was Pepper. God, he was glad she’d been home. “What if they hire someone else, someone less capable than you, and trouble happens offworld that you can’t help with? It goes both ways. It’s an understandable fear, but I don’t think that should be what you base your decision on.”
“I’ll take care of the planet if you take care of space,” Tony agreed.
Rhodey smirked despite himself. “All of space? I don’t know, man. Doesn’t seem fair for me to be responsible for the whole thing if you’re only responsible for one planet.”
“Really? I think it represents our respective capacities for responsibility pretty accurately.”
It made Rhodey laugh, genuine, honest, without a trace of anxiety, and that surprised him in the wake of his previous thought processes. Unfortunately, the disparity sent him along a new track. He remembered the other times Tony had thrown him a curveball, the other times things had seemed tenuous or dire, and Tony had flipped it around, made it feel conquerable. The nights sitting on a balcony in Malibu with a glass of scotch, the days racing each other into the sky and freefalling afterwards--- their friendship had its ups and downs, but the solidity never changed.
With the kind of quietness that felt like it had a solid weight, Rhodey asked, “What if I’m gone for a long time?”
No one seemed to have an answer for that, or at least not one ready to be shared. Tension built in the new silence, and it made Tony start to fidget. Rhodey elbowed him in the side, and that, at least, was familiar.
“I’m going to go change before the pizza gets here,” Pepper said, slipping to her feet.
“You’re abandoning us?” Tony asked with a sizable helping of faux dramaticism.
Pepper shot him a knowing look. “I’m abandoning the future where red sauce gets on this nice suit. I’ll be back for you.” She made eye contact with Rhodey.
Uh-oh. He knew what this was. She was giving them a chance to talk. Didn’t she notice the lack of alcohol? Apparently not, because she was out of the room, gone, and then he and Tony were alone on the couch, contemplating the possibility of being separated from a best friend on a much grander scale than they’d experienced so far.
Okay. Think of it like removing a Band-Aid. He just needed to get the first words out there, and the rest would happen.
Just do it. Nike swoop, man.
“You know I’m…” Rhodey swallowed hard and wished at least one of them wasn’t utter shit at these conversations. “I’m always going to have your back.”
“Oh, are we doing this?” Tony made a motion that had loose designs on becoming a stretch. “Hang on, I need to wake up more. Pinch me or something. Wait, definitely choose the ‘or something’, pinching hu---”
Rhodey pinched him.
“---ow. I don’t know what I expected.”
Looking anywhere but down at Tony, Rhodey said, “I mean it.” The words came out low, firm. He’d have combed through that desert for the rest of his life if he’d had to, and he’d have flown into that portal over New York after him. Rhodey told the truth wherever he could, and that was it.
Tony took a breath that he probably hadn’t meant to sound as shaky as it did. He turned his head, re-settled against Rhodey’s shoulder. It reminded Rhodey of Afghanistan, of when their knees had hit the sand and Tony had laughed brokenly and leaned into him. “I know you do, Rhodey.”
“Most of the meetings will probably be here, on Earth, and after that…” He shrugged the unoccupied side of his body. “Hell, maybe space has a postal service.”
“I expect souvenirs,” Tony told him airily. “I don’t care how many hoops you have to jump through at customs.”
“Of course, your majesty.”
Tony waved another imaginary flag, and then he stilled. “So… is that it then? At the start of this conversation, you were talking in hypotheticals, but now it sounds like you’ve reached a verdict.”
“Telling you and Pepper made it real,” Rhodey said.
“And now that it’s real?”
It felt as though the answer came to him as he spoke, slow, steady, “If I don’t take this opportunity, I’d feel like I lost something.”
Tony nodded. “Okay.” There was a long pause. “I promise to be way more enthusiastic in my congratulations once I’ve had pizza and something caffeinated. Like, obnoxiously enthusiastic. I will be so enthusiastic that you’ll be like hey, calm down, space isn’t that great.”
“Wow, man,” Rhodey said, as dry as he could manage. “That’s pretty enthusiastic.”
“Don’t thank me yet, I made a mistake. Great is totally the wrong adjective.” He could feel Tony smile. “Space rox, right?”
Rhodey stared straight ahead for a second.
Just for a second.
“Okay,” he growled. “That’s it.” He jolted suddenly to the left, sending Tony sprawling over the couch cushions. “I can kick your ass just as easy as I can save it!” Let it be known that the great Tony Stark was ticklish, and Rhodey had been in this approximate situation often enough to know where.
“Hey, whoa!” Tony was laughing so hard that his ability to speak had to be a minor miracle. “Robot spider injuries! Robot spider injuries.”
An explosive sigh came from the doorway, and they froze.
“Hi, Pepper,” Tony said, beaming in her direction. “Welcome back.”
“Sir, the pizza has arrived.”
For the first time since they’d returned to the Tower, Tony made it to an upright position. “Everything is coming together!”
“Did you decide…?” Pepper asked Rhodey when she reclaimed her seat and Tony had gone to get them drinks.
“Yeah,” he said, folding his hands together and nodding. “I mean, it was never something I’d considered before they told me. It was a surprise. More of a shock, really. But discussing it with you and Tony, made me realize that after all the time I’ve been worrying about the choice…” Rhodey made a helpless gesture. “It became a part of me. The only reasons I was hesitating were the newness and the thought of not being here to help.” He shifted, one leg folded on the cushion so he could face her. She moved to mirror him. “But I’ve adjusted to the newness. It’s not a flaw, it’s a plus: this is a new way to protect Earth, and I could be a part of that. I want to be a part of that.”
“I think,” Pepper said with thoughtful smile, “that having you in that position would make all the difference in the world.” She laughed like that wording had been an accident. “And outside of it! You’ll be wonderful.”
He grinned at her, and for a moment, he was that ten year old dreaming of being a pilot. Then he adopted the pretend solemnity that they had once used with each other just before press conferences; it mostly resulted in barely contained laughter rather than any protracted professionalism. “Thank you, Ms. Potts.”
“You’re welcome, Colonel Rhodes,” she responded, somber, expressionless.
It was not one of the occasions when they were able to maintain their poker faces. The laughter hit them all at once.
“Hey!” Tony called over from the bar. “Stop having fun without me! Rude.”
That just made Rhodey laugh harder, and as he and Pepper braced themselves against the couch and each other, he reflected that if he got the job he was probably going to see some hitherto unimaginably amazing places--- but to him, this one, right here, was always going to be the most important.
---
3 Months Later
Rhodey met Sif at the site in New Mexico and rode with her back to the SHIELD facility. It was the first time he’d ever met her in any official sense. He’d heard stories from Thor and from Jane, but there was a huge difference between firsthand and secondhand information.
His initial impression was that she was a Warrior, capital letter. She carried herself like someone who could literally kill everyone in the room but would do just as well with a mimosa and a nice chat. After hearing the blunt honestly she used to speak to the welcoming party, Rhodey decided it wasn’t just how she carried herself. It was another truth.
“Colonel James Rhodes?” she inquired, extending a hand.
He nodded and they shook. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Sif. You can call me Rhodey, if you’d like. We’re friends of friends, after all.”
Her smile arched up a few degrees at one corner. “Yes, we are. You may call me Sif.”
When they got into the transport van, she pulled one of Tony’s tablets from the pack at her side. “I was given this device to place the relevant information on. What have you heard concerning my visit?”
Rhodey shook his head. “Only that it wasn’t an emergency.”
Sif smirked. “Refreshing, isn’t it?”
The first article he pulled up looked like the rulebook for a very complex game. “Uh… The Primary Circuit?” he asked, skimming. “This looks intense.” The next page was a star map. “What am I looking at?”
“A chart of past Host Planets. The Primary Circuit is a tournament and a race,” she explained as he continued to read.
“I promise I’m going to read all of this,” he said and meant it. “But if it’s not a hassle, could you give me the bottom line?”
She nodded. “It is no trouble. The Primary Circuit is an interplanetary event. Teams of five enter and are divided into combat brackets. Arenas are spread across the Host Planet and key locations within its solar system. Two teams do battle in an arena, and the winner races to another assigned arena. Three teams are given the coordinates to this second location, and the first pair to reach it participate in the next fight. The third is eliminated. This proceeds until two teams are left. They participate in a final race, during which the eliminated teams provide the obstacles. The prize is a premiere piece of technology designed by the Host Planet, a generous amount of treasure, and, of course, the honor of declaring yourselves champions.” Sif sat back in her seat. “Asgard participates every other decade, but this year we are short a team member.”
“Thor,” Rhodey realized.
“He has personal matters to attend to,” Sif confirmed. “In any case, we believed this might be an opportune time for Midgard to make its galactic debut. I’m here to enter a request for you to be our fifth. You represent your world’s warriors, do you not?”
Well, hello, unforeseen corollary. “Yes.” He kept the question mark that wanted to appear at the end of the word inaudible, made it sound confident, unflappable.
Sure, he was impressive as hell, but was he impressive enough to stand for the other impressive-as-hell people on Earth?
Rhodey clenched his jaw and reminded himself that there was a damn good reason he’d been appointed as an interplanetary liaison. He looked up and met her eyes with a wide grin. “When do we leave?”