Note: This morning, I woke up to the sad news that Stan Lee has passed away. In memory of everything wonderful that he created, I quickly wrote this fic as tribute to all of his many cameos in the MCU.
Words: 1k
You can find the rest of my fics here: Masterlist
“I know that guy,” Steve said, walking backwards towards Tony’s computer console to get a better look at the face on the screen. He frowned at the white haired man in front of him, trying to place the face. “One of the veterans from the VA, right? The Excelsior man who couldn’t hold his liquor. I think I got him fired from the Smithsonian, too. Accidentally, of course.”
“Tony, I’ve told you to get your pasty ass outside now before I… No way, is that him?” Rhodey strode in to the lab, his leg braces doing nothing to slow him down. His annoyance towards Tony for wasting time sitting around faded into something so much lighter when he saw the computer screen. A huge smile crossed his face as he clapped his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
Steve looked between the men in confusion. Tony had buried his head in his hands in a highly ineffective way to avoid Rhodey’s taunting, an unmistakable redness spreading up the back of his neck in embarrassment. Recognising Steve’s confusion, and always happy to retell the story to new ears, Rhodey explained how a seemingly unimportant Fed-Ex delivery man had become his personal hero. In a perfect imitation, he said, “Are you Tony Stank?”
“Mr Stark, are you coming or… Oh hey! That’s Gary.”
Tony spun his chair around to face Peter, one eyebrow raised in his patented mixture of amusement and intrigue. He didn’t say anything when Peter jumped up on to the worktop, swinging his legs around like a kid. He just smiled fondly and asked, “You know him too?”
“Sure! He drives my school bus. And, uh, he shouted at me one time when I tried to stop a dude from breaking in to their own car. I kinda woke up the whole neighbourhood with the alarm. It wasn’t my fault, though! How was I supposed to know it was his car?”
“This guy gets around,” Rhodey said, nodding in approval. “Why you looking at his file, Tones? In fact, why does he even have a file?”
“That man cut my hair!” Thor said, bursting in to the lab in a flurry. He had merely been walking past on his way to meet Banner in the training room (to decide whether he or Hulk was the strongest Avenger) when the god had caught sight of the face that haunted his dreams.
Pointing at Thor, and then gesturing around the circle to each of them, Tony said, “That’s why. You know I’m good with faces. I kept seeing him around so had FRIDAY look into it. Turns out he’s been watching us all for a while now.”
“What for? Is he a threat?” Steve tensed at Tony’s side and began flicking through the literal hundreds of images of this man, taken everywhere around the globe. There was one from a less than legal poker club in South Korea. A file from a mental institute. Press photos. Even a few from back in the 40s with him as an Army Officer. Rhodey had been right; this man, whoever he was, had certainly been around.
Tony shook his head, knowing that that wasn’t the case. “He was an informant.”
“To who? How do you know?” Steve asked, at the same time that Peter said, “Was?”
Taking the questions in turn, Tony said, “Well, I asked him. Obviously. Saw him at a charity ball a few months ago and asked if he was following us. He figured I wouldn’t believe him so told me everything. After the shit we’ve dealt with, immortal, non interfering aliens that watch our every move almost seemed like a normal day. And yeah, Pete. I’m sorry. He – Gary, you said? – won’t be around anymore.”
The kid’s face dropped as he realised what Tony was saying. “He died?”
“That’s what all the reports are saying. FRIDAY is running searches now. Every single one of his aliases is being marked on file as deceased. She reckons that he became a part of some many people’s lives that there are over fifty different funerals being held for him this week.”
“You don’t sound convinced, Tones,” Rhodey pointed out, more than a little confused by his friend’s behaviour. Tony had dealt with his fair share of loss and death. He never acted this way when he heard news of someone’s passing. Normally, his coping mechanism included a lot of alcohol and a few weeks alone in the lab with a new project. Seeing him so calm, almost nonchalant, even towards the death of someone he didn’t know all too well, just wasn’t right at all.
“Oh, I know he didn’t die. He told me everything, remember? His job here is done. Now that Thanos is gone, the Watchers – those immortal alien people – don’t care so much about us anymore. They’re pulling him off of Earth and taking him somewhere else.”
It was clear that Rhodey was beginning to doubt his friend’s sanity but Tony assured him that he wasn’t in fact completely crazy. “He told me the exact date and time that he was leaving and it matches the details on every death certificate around the world. He’s still alive, honey bear. He’s just got other things to do now.”
“Will he ever come back?” Peter asked, his eyes sparkling as he flicked through the pictures with Steve.
“I doubt it, kid. Not in our lifetime, anyway. Why?”
Peter shrugged, grabbing his backpack from the floor and jumping off the worktop. “It’s not important. It’s just that I won a bet and he owes me a hot dog.”
Later that evening, when Peter returned home from the game (Tony really had gotten them the best seats), there was a box waiting for him on the side. He took it to his room and opened it up to find a slightly squashed hot dog inside. There was also a badly written note, which read: I didn’t forget. See you round, Spidey. Excelsior.
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