The Stark Mansion, the residence of Mr. Howard and Mrs. Maria, the place where Tony Stark was born and raised, and also the place where Fléty was truly born.

The mansion, which had not been inhabited for a long time, was still very clean because it had been closed for a long time.

Tony took the lead and walked in, passing through the courtyard that was once full of roses but now only weeds; the glass lamp under the porch that he shot through with a potato gun; the small living room where his parents danced to music after dinner; and the piano where his mother played Christmas music for him for the last time.

Ever since that incident, he had moved out of the mansion and had never returned.

But everything here was exactly the same as the day he left.

Time had come to a standstill in this house, leaving the traces of his parents' lives in a place that was within his reach.

But Tony Stark was never a person who looked back. He kept moving forward, toward a better future.

"Please wait in the living room for a moment. Your brother will be here with you. I'll clean up the room for you and Mr. Barnes."

Fléty, who was the most capable of taking care of himself in the whole house, took the responsibility and left immediately after settling the two three-year-old children in the living room.

Jarvis, who was transferred from the car projection to Mark 5, manipulated the armor to bring out two glasses of water from the kitchen and placed them in front of Tony and Bucky.

"Hey, old popsicle."

Tony swirled the glass, and the light of the old-fashioned crystal chandelier above his head reflected in his eyes, creating a blurry shadow.

He asked, "Do you want to drink?"

The past few days have been too long, and he didn't want to think about any of the messy words like palladium poisoning, alternative elements, reactor, electric whip man, Winter Soldier, and S.H.E.L.D.. He just wanted to empty himself, do nothing, and think nothing.

This was his home, the place where he should relax the most.

The Winter Soldier, who seemed to be silent until the end, unexpectedly responded. He turned the brick in confusion, and his subconscious told him to listen to the words of the person in front of him. "Wine?"

"Yes, let's drink!"

So Fléty, who came down from the third floor, was stunned to see the Iron Man and the Winter Soldier drinking. The row of deep-water glasses between them had been emptied, and bottles were scattered around them. The air was filled with the aroma of expensive wine.

Fléty silently estimated that the wine in Mr. Howard's wine cellar seemed to be half empty.

She also felt Jarvis's helplessness and indulgence from the posture of Mark 5. The source of the row of clean glasses was obviously his work. Her boss would rather drink from the bottle than wash the glasses.

Tony, who had grown up in all kinds of parties before he was an adult, had always had a good tolerance for alcohol. However, it was rare for him to be like this, chattering to himself endlessly after drinking.

"Dad will be very happy to see you. When I was a child, he would hold me and look at photos to recognize people. This is Uncle Steve, this is Uncle Bucky, this is Uncle Jones … I have your solo album, limited edition, and it's perfect with just two signatures."

He swirled the top-grade malt whiskey in the glass. She didn't know if he was sober or drunk. "I especially like Aunt Peggy. She looks just like the type I like."

Bucky's eyes were getting brighter and brighter. The rock that the professor had cleared for him seemed to be the most distant one. He seemed to recall a memory from a long time ago and murmured, "I also said that if Howard had a son, I would take him to the most beautiful girl in Brooklyn."

"But Peggy can't. She's Steve's." He miraculously continued the conversation with Tony. The two clinked their glasses and drank at the same time.

Jarvis and Fléty stood in a row and looked at each other. Obviously, neither of them had a suitable reference solution to the drinking contest between the Iron Man and the Winter Soldiers.

In the end, Jarvis made a decision based on his years of experience in taking care of drunk bosses. "Fléty, go find the tea leaves and make some light brown tea."

Fléty:???

Brother, what are you going to do?

"Serve the tea to the gentlemen. According to the amount of tea they just drank, limit their tongues to the point that they can't taste anything in their mouths." Jarvis smiled.

Fléty shuddered and obediently went to the storage room. When he left, he took a few empty wine bottles with him.

Fléty, who came back with the new "wine", was warmly welcomed. Tony half reclined on the bench and squinted at him. "Oh, good girl. You're a red mutant girl. Could your ability be a fire-breathing tyrannosaurus?"

After that, he shook his head and denied it. "No, no, Pepper is more than enough."

Fléty poured the processed wine for him with a blank expression. At the same time, he poked his brother in the AI intercom.

"Can I keep this audio and play it for Miss Pepper?"

"I suggest you make a backup on an independent computer first and ask for Sir's permission." Jarvis seemed to be very experienced. He had done this kind of thing many times.

"Okay."

In the end, the sky was already slightly white, and the sun struggled to reveal the morning light from the horizon. Only then did the two men put down their wine glasses reluctantly.

Four times the metabolic capacity allowed Bucky to remain sober. Unfortunately, Iron Man, who didn't have the serum, had already turned into a puddle of mud.

Jarvis sent him to the bedroom and stayed by his side to guard him, just like in the Malibu House.

Fléty gently closed the door, passed through the corridor on the second floor, thought about it, and unlocked the doors of the two rooms.

So Tony, who had a splitting headache after a hangover, saw the old popsicle reading a comic book on the sofa with relish.

"Has your mental age returned to 7 years old?"

Tony rummaged through the kitchen, and with his stomach that had been starving for a day and a night, he realized in despair that the only thing he could drink was lemonade with at least two lemons in it, and fruit juice that was as green as ever.

"Tony."

Bucky, who had only temporarily recovered his earliest memories, was like a perfect piece of unpolished jade. When he saw his best friend's child, his eyebrows relaxed, and there was a faint smile on his lips, with a little teasing, "Congratulations, your collector's edition now has a signature."

He waved the comic book in his hand. On the cover, there was a large military uniform with a gun, and Bucky had signed his name in a flamboyant manner.

Tony choked on a mouthful of fruit and vegetable juice in his throat and almost choked to death.

After swallowing the mouthful of weird-tasting liquid, Tony turned around and changed to the lemonade, hiding his expression with his actions. "Then you have to sign it quickly, old popsicle. I have a house full of comic books, and we will only stay here for two days."

As a well-deserved fan of the nouveau riche, the number of books in his collection naturally started from three. He flipped through one book every day, put one book in a glass cabinet to please himself every day, and wrapped up the last book tightly, waiting for the day when he went to see God to burn it with his last words so that it would accompany him in life and death.

As for the time they would stay, two days was enough for S.h.e.l.d. to give up on finding the missing Winter Soldiers, and the new reactor core on his chest that he had just replaced in the morning reminded him that time was running out.

Years of military career and rich experience as the flower of Brooklyn gave Bucky extraordinary keenness. He almost immediately felt the change in Tony's mood and asked directly, "Tony, what's wrong with you?"

At this time, he had not yet been destroyed by the malice of fate. He grew up in Brooklyn, and he was a tenacious and kind person who grew up in a rain of bullets. The strange environment around him and the chaotic memories in his mind told him a lot of questions, but he recognized this man with a beautiful mustache.

He looked very similar to Howard. He woke himself up from nothingness, and intuition told Bucky that he could trust him.

He also hoped that he could be trusted by this person.

Tony, who was caught off guard, did not look back. He disguised himself by changing the lemonade and replied loudly, "What do you mean what's wrong? I don't have any problems.

For Iron Man, there is no problem that cannot be solved. "

"That's not right.

Even gods have things they can't do. "

Bucky calmly retorted, "You may be a very smart person like Howard, but you can't solve all the problems in the world. You have to learn to ask for help from friends, just like how I asked Steve to sew my socks."

He paused and asked, "But, what is Iron Man?"

Tony was speechless.

Tony didn't know if he should applaud this preachy, textbook chicken soup for the seventies, or be shocked by the fact that Captain America helped his comrade sew his socks.

Could this sock that was mended by Captain America and worn by the Winter Soldier be the one displayed in the Nixon Museum?

Tony controlled his urge to steal the sock and quickly and forcefully diverted his attention. He shouted, "Jarvis!

Come and explain to this old antique! "

His voice was so loud that Fléty, who came up from the basement with something in her arms, was startled.

Tony waved at her as if he had seen his savior. "Come and make breakfast. I'm starving. What are you holding in your hands?"

"Good morning, boss. Because the refrigerator can't be used, breakfast is in the picnic basket."

Fléty walked to him and showed him the things she was holding. "I just found this when I was tidying up the basement. It should be the video and notes left by Mr. Howard. Anyway, there is no studio suitable for you in the mansion. Do you want to take a look at this?"