Fic: I follow heart lines
Title: I follow heart lines
Fandom: Marvel Avengers
Pair: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers and Steve Rogers/Natasha Stark
Rating: R
Word Count: ~3,000
Warnings: None for this chapter
Summary: Tony is kidnapped. Sequel to Now I've got double.
A/N: Plays fast and loose with the character of Zeke Stane, who I'm only familiar with by name.
“Hey baby,” Tasha croons when Steve picks up the phone, “what are you wearing?”
Steve blushes and glances down at himself. “Jeans and a tee-shirt. Isn’t it the dead of night in Japan?”
“You dirty liar, I know for a fact you don’t have a shirt on,” she says delightedly, and Steve glances around him. There’s a surveillance camera mounted on the ceiling.
“Stalking me from the other side of the world now?” Steve asks her, and Tasha laughs.
“Just enjoying the view.”
“Do I even want to know how long you’ve had a camera in my bedroom?”
“Tony snuck it in for me before I left.”
“You two are a menace,” he informs her fondly, stretching out on the bed and looking right up at the camera. “How are the business meetings going?”
“Oh, you know. Lots of posturing about profits, the usual song and dance.” Steve can practically hear her careless hand wave. “How have you been?”
“Fine. Things are mostly calm here, and Tony’s been off hiding somewhere. I think Clint is enjoying the quiet.”
“I suppose some people do think there can be too much of a good thing,” Tasha replies, in a tone that makes it clear she isn’t one of them. “Hey, did Tony ever getting around to teaching you to use skype?”
Steve throws a wary glance at the surveillance camera. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I would suggest phone sex, but it would be more fun for you if you could see me too. Aw, you’re blushing.”
“I think I should be much more put off by this blatant invasion of privacy than I am,” Steve says, mostly to himself. “Do you do this to all your boyfriends?”
“Nope, only you. Is that a yes on the skype thing?”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Go to sleep, Tasha. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“I’ll see you much sooner,” she retorts, amused, and hangs up on him. Steve chuckles softly and shakes his head.
“Love you too, sweetheart,” he murmurs.
---
“Has anyone seen Tony?”
Natasha glances up from cleaning one of her guns. “I figured he was with you.”
“No, and he’s not in the lab.”
Natasha and Clint trade glances.
“Did you check the bars?” Clint says dryly, and Steve scowls at him.
“Find his armor and you’ll find him,” Natasha predicts. “He doesn’t like going places without it, and I’m sure it has tracking precautions.”
“Right.” Steve retreats, feeling like he’s probably worrying over nothing, and heads back to the workshop. “Er. Jarvis?” Addressing a machine always felt weird.
“Yes, Mr. Rogers?”
“Is Tony in the building?”
“He is not.”
“Can you tell me where his suit is? I can’t find him.”
“His suit is still in the workshop, sir.”
It’s probably not a big deal, Steve tells himself as he thanks Jarvis and pulls out his phone to call Tony. Steve is a worrier, always has been. Tony will tease him, he’s sure.
Tony doesn’t pick up. Steve hasn’t seen him since yesterday, which isn’t unusual. Tony sometimes buries himself in his work for days on end, so no one really thinks to check in on him when he’s not around, but it means Steve has no idea how long he’s been gone.
“Not to overreact,” Steve says to Natasha and Clint, “but I think Tony is missing.”
---
“He left the mansion around one,” Natasha says. She’s bent over her laptop with the mansion’s security feeds opened in one window and something probably highly illegal in another. “On foot and without the armor, so not planning on going far or needing safety precautions. I’ll see if I can track his cell phone.”
“He wasn’t answering it.”
“Which means it’s probably off, but it doesn’t hurt to check.” There’s a pause where the only sound is of her typing. “Okay, that... makes no sense. According to this, his phone is in the middle of nowhere in Canada. And I do mean nowhere, if it weren’t one of Stark’s designs it wouldn’t even get signal out there.”
“But if he were planning on staying in the neighborhood and he couldn’t fly...”
“Then how did it get there, right,” Clint interjects with a grimace. “I take back that crack about the bar.”
“Get Thor and Bruce. I’ll prep the jet.”
“Iron Woman?” Natasha asks, and Steve hesitates.
“She’s in Japan on business.”
She makes an exasperated sound. “Yes, I know that. He’s her brother, Cap.”
“And I know that.” They stare at each other for a moment, but Steve caves. “Just go get ready, Widow.”
---
The first thing Tony is aware of is that he’s fucking freezing, and when he opens his eyes the reason is clear- wherever he is, the walls are coated in ice. His arc reactor is still in, but his phone is missing and he’s chained up like an animal, able to move but not very far. There’s a workbench on one side of the room.
Tony is reminded vividly of Afghanistan, despite the cold. But there is no Dr. Yinsen here, and most likely no one has even realized he’s gone yet. Where the hell is “here,” anyway?
“Hello, Tony. Remember me?”
---
Steve feels like his heart is caught in his throat as he waits for Tasha to pick up her phone, hoping that she’s still there to do so.
“Hey, Steve, now isn’t a great time.”
“Tony’s missing,” he spits out, and the other end of the line goes silent. “Tasha?”
“I’ll be in the states as soon as possible.”
“What do you mean, you can’t-”
“Steven,” she says tightly, “this is my brother we’re discussing. I’m going, I don’t care what business I’m disrupting or how goddamn long the flight is.”
Steve sighs. He’d expected it, but he had sort of hoped he could convince her to be sensible and not overextend herself. Wishful thinking.
“I’ll have Black Widow send you the coordinates, we’re heading to Canada.”
“Why the fuck-”
“We don’t know. Look, I’ve got a jet to pilot-”
“Yeah, go. I’ll meet you out there as soon as I can. Stay in touch.” The line clicks dead, and Steve sighs.
“Sounds like that went about as well as can be expected,” Clint says dryly, strapping himself into the jet. The others are already seated, Natasha waiting in the co-pilot’s chair.
“Pretty much. Let’s move.”
---
“Zeke Stane,” Tony says, aiming for calm and probably missing by a mile. “Last I heard you were in San Francisco, not an arctic wasteland.”
Zeke smiles, thin and mean and humorless. “Well, you know how plans can change. What, you don’t like?”
Tony throws a showy glance around him. “Could use some color. Maybe some art on the walls, you know. You should hire a better decorator.”
“I’ll take that under consideration. And while we’re on the subject, I’ve got something for you to think about.”
“And what would that be? I’m not building you any missiles- you know how well it worked out for the terrorists.”
“No, nothing like that. Either you synthesize vibranium for me and I shoot you in the head nice and quick, or you refuse, and I let you slowly starve to death. Your choice.”
He turns on his heel and leaves. Tony rattles ineffectually at the chains holding him down, but they’re solid and he has nothing to escape with, Zeke had made sure of that before Tony came to.
Tony reaches under his shirt and withdraws a small piece of metal from where he carries it, wedged in a slot he’d added to the arc reactor setting. It’s a round disc marked with concentric circles and a central star, set with a tiny chip of red stone that gives with a click when he digs his thumbnail in.
Tony hides the pin back in his chest and curls up to wait.
---
The trace on Tony’s phone had led them nowhere, literally. There’s nothing around for miles and miles but the snow. They found the phone, screen cracked but still functional, and had camped out in the jet to wait for Tasha to meet them. Clint and Natasha had both spent time muttering over it, but there’s nothing on Tony’s call histories to give them any useful information, so all they can do is sit and wait.
“Will you stop pacing?”
Steve doesn’t take waiting well.
“The longer we wait-”
Thor claps a heavy hand on Steve’s back. “We all are concerned for the welfare of our shield brother, but you must trust in Tony. He is strong.”
Steve manages a weak smile. “I know he is.” He sinks into the pilot’s seat to wait.
Considering she had been coming from Tokyo, Tasha arrives absurdly soon, even if it feels like forever. Steve is on his feet as soon as she enters the jet, and she’s immediately yanking her faceplate off and striding toward him. They meet in the middle; Steve wraps his arms around the armor in an embrace that would have been otherwise been crushing, and Tasha kisses him with the fierceness of desperation.
“Huh,” Bruce mutters in the background, “how long has that been going on?”
“Ages,” Clint answers. Steve isn’t really listening.
“What have you got?” Tasha asks against Steve’s lips, and he shakes his head.
“Not much. It looks like the phone was dropped from the air- there’s nothing around for miles and no sign of anyone but us having been here. We’re at another dead end.”
“Well, to get the drop on Tony without anyone knowing or seeing anything, we’re probably looking at hired pros for the actual grab, which means someone with money. So, safe to say he’s not being held for ransom, especially since we haven’t heard anything. Personal grudge is much more likely, but that’s an unfortunately long list. I’ve had my systems running searches on the flight over, but I haven’t come up with anything suspicious on any of the heavier hitters.” Most of this is said against Steve’s neck when she lets her head drop to his shoulder. “Was there anything useful on the phone?”
“Afraid not.”
“Can you two please stop talking shop standing like that?” Clint asks. Steve steps back with a blush, but it barely seems to register with Tasha. She has the manic, half-unfocused look she wears when she’s running on adrenaline and coffee working on a problem.
“Steve, I need your hand, take a glove off.”
“Um,” Bruce says uncomfortably, but is ignored.
“Can I ask why?” Steve inquires as he obliges.
“I need your fingerprints.” She pulls out her phone- an identical model to Tony’s, their proprietary extremely durable smartphones- and begins tapping furiously at the screen, plowing through what looks to be layers and layers of security protocols before her phone presents a blank red screen. She takes Steve’s hand and uses it to scan his thumb, and the phone pulls up a satellite map and blinks the word searching at her.
“If Tony is conscious and able to keep his head together, he’ll have tripped his distress signal.”
“He has a distress signal?”
“We both do. Our pins have them built-in.” She flashes a brief, tight smile. “You didn’t think we’d make something ordinary, did you?”
“You-” Steve shakes his head, leaving that to process later. “What if they took it?”
“If they found it, it means they’ve probably already dug his reactor out and it won’t do us any good,” Tasha replies grimly. Her phone beeps at her.
“I’ve got coordinates. I don’t know what we’ll be fighting through, but I know where we’re going to do it.”
“Strap in, team.”
---
“I’ve got six people.”
“All this, and only six?”
“Probably figured that being in the fucking Yukon would take care of being tracked,” Tasha growls over the comms.
“Looks like we might not even need you to get green, Bruce,” Steve says. “Thor and I will-”
“Oh hell no,” Tasha interrupts, “I am going in there and taking down whoever I find.”
An audible sigh. “Iron Woman and I will take the front of the building, Widow and Thor the back. Hawkeye, with Bruce as backup. Stop anyone who tries to get out. Clear?”
“Yes sir,” Tasha answers, and dives right for the building. There’s an almighty crash as she blows the door wide open with her repulsors, and more shouting from the back as Thor charges into the fray. Steve is right behind them, shield at ready.
“Stane!” Tasha shouts, and there is another blinding flare of light.
---
“Tony!”
He smiles, worn but genuinely glad. “Hey, Cap. I thought I heard violence.”
“That’s mostly your sister.”
“Atta girl.”
Steve breaks the chains with a few well-placed slams of his shield’s edge and helps Tony to his feet. The commotion above them is dying down somewhat, though Thor is still doing a lot of bellowing. Steve chances a quick kiss, though he keeps his eyes open and his shield to the cellar entrance.
“Cap to Widow, status report.”
“Enemies subdued. Have you got him?”
“Yeah.”
“Where is he? Because I’m going to kill him.” Tasha’s voice demands, and Steve tries not to smile as he and Tony head upstairs.
“Right here, sis,” Tony says, and doesn’t even protest when she locks her arms around him and lifts off the ground, heading back to the jet. Steve lingers behind to give them a moment, helping the others tie up Zeke Stane and the hired goons to throw in the prisoner hold of the jet until Natasha declares that his fretting is making her teeth hurt and shoos him along after.
Tasha has gotten out of her armor and settled in the pilot’s seat when he gets back; Tony is standing next to her, fiddling with the climate control. He looks... tired, cold still, edgy, but fine.
“I was worried about you.”
Tony turns to look at him, still moving a little stiffly. “I’m sure. Sorry.”
Steve shakes his head. “Not your fault. It’s just- if it weren’t for your secret distress call, we might not have found you.”
“Hey.” Tony clasps his shoulders. “You would have, okay? You would have found me. I know you, you don’t give up, not even on me.”
“Especially,” Steve murmurs, pulling him closer, “especially on you.”
Tony kisses him.
“How long has that been going on?” Bruce demands from the entrance to the jet. Clint makes a strangled sort of noise.
“No idea.”
“Also ages,” Natasha says, breezing past. “Can we go home now? If I liked snow I would have stayed in Russia.”
“Motion seconded,” Tony agrees, and throws himself down in the seat next to Thor. “Take us away, Tasha.”
---
“Steve, Steve,” Tony whines, shuddering up against him. They’re both drenched with sweat, and Tony’s fingers slide and scrabble helplessly as he grasps at Steve and tries to get closer as if there’s even a closer to get with Steve buried inside him and panting against his mouth.
“Come on,” Steve coaxes with a slightly harder rock of his hips, “I’ve got you, let go.”
Tony makes a desperate, needy noise and finally comes, shaking apart against Steve so thoroughly that that alone is enough to get Steve off as well.
“You’ve really gotten good at that,” Tony murmurs, and Steve smiles to himself and carefully pulls out of Tony and cleans them both up with some tissues. Tony curls up against him, exhausted but looking much calmer than he had since they’d found him. Steve kisses him and then they lie there in the quiet of Tony’s bedroom.
The door clicks open a few minutes later; Steve looks up, but it’s only Tasha. She’s dressed in a thin camisole and pajama bottoms, and climbs into bed with them without bothering to ask.
“Mm,” she hums when Tony turns over and hugs her, “you smell like Steve.”
“I wonder why.”
“Shut up, it’s nice, that’s all.” She burrows under the blankets and leaves Tony in the middle- usually the middle is Steve, by unspoken agreement. Eventually, the two men gather themselves enough to get under the covers as well, and there’s a little jostling as they all settle. Tony winds up with Steve spooned up behind him, and he settles an arm around Tasha’s shoulders in turn and worries her hair between his fingertips. She lets him.
“You’re going to have to teach me to work that tracking program you used,” Steve says, breaking the silence. “Why didn’t you tell me about it before?”
“We’re still working on the interface. Figured you’d want something you don’t have to be a programmer to run,” Tony replies.
“We’ll get it finished for you.”
Steve nods and runs a finger around the rim of Tony’s arc reactor until he touches the slot where the pin is hidden. “I’d feel better if you did. Thank you.”
“It will work on yours, too,” Tasha says, stretching out a hand to pluck it off the nightstand. “You just press the little crystal chip here down to start the signal.”
Steve takes his pin from her- you don’t wear your own pin, he had protested, but Tony had insisted he ought to have one anyway- and turns it over in a few times in his hand.
“I’ll start keeping it with me, then.” Steve hands it back to Tasha to set aside.
“One of the reinforced pockets on your costume should keep it safe. It’s pretty durable, but circuitry is delicate.” Tasha yawns and snuggles back into the pillow. “By the way, I have dibs on you tomorrow night.”
“Dibs?”
“I haven’t gotten my welcome back from Japan sex yet,” she answers with a lazy smile, closing her eyes. “Goodnight, boys.”
Sequel: Your heart is the place I call home
Fandom: Marvel Avengers
Pair: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers and Steve Rogers/Natasha Stark
Rating: R
Word Count: ~3,000
Warnings: None for this chapter
Summary: Tony is kidnapped. Sequel to Now I've got double.
A/N: Plays fast and loose with the character of Zeke Stane, who I'm only familiar with by name.
“Hey baby,” Tasha croons when Steve picks up the phone, “what are you wearing?”
Steve blushes and glances down at himself. “Jeans and a tee-shirt. Isn’t it the dead of night in Japan?”
“You dirty liar, I know for a fact you don’t have a shirt on,” she says delightedly, and Steve glances around him. There’s a surveillance camera mounted on the ceiling.
“Stalking me from the other side of the world now?” Steve asks her, and Tasha laughs.
“Just enjoying the view.”
“Do I even want to know how long you’ve had a camera in my bedroom?”
“Tony snuck it in for me before I left.”
“You two are a menace,” he informs her fondly, stretching out on the bed and looking right up at the camera. “How are the business meetings going?”
“Oh, you know. Lots of posturing about profits, the usual song and dance.” Steve can practically hear her careless hand wave. “How have you been?”
“Fine. Things are mostly calm here, and Tony’s been off hiding somewhere. I think Clint is enjoying the quiet.”
“I suppose some people do think there can be too much of a good thing,” Tasha replies, in a tone that makes it clear she isn’t one of them. “Hey, did Tony ever getting around to teaching you to use skype?”
Steve throws a wary glance at the surveillance camera. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I would suggest phone sex, but it would be more fun for you if you could see me too. Aw, you’re blushing.”
“I think I should be much more put off by this blatant invasion of privacy than I am,” Steve says, mostly to himself. “Do you do this to all your boyfriends?”
“Nope, only you. Is that a yes on the skype thing?”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Go to sleep, Tasha. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“I’ll see you much sooner,” she retorts, amused, and hangs up on him. Steve chuckles softly and shakes his head.
“Love you too, sweetheart,” he murmurs.
---
“Has anyone seen Tony?”
Natasha glances up from cleaning one of her guns. “I figured he was with you.”
“No, and he’s not in the lab.”
Natasha and Clint trade glances.
“Did you check the bars?” Clint says dryly, and Steve scowls at him.
“Find his armor and you’ll find him,” Natasha predicts. “He doesn’t like going places without it, and I’m sure it has tracking precautions.”
“Right.” Steve retreats, feeling like he’s probably worrying over nothing, and heads back to the workshop. “Er. Jarvis?” Addressing a machine always felt weird.
“Yes, Mr. Rogers?”
“Is Tony in the building?”
“He is not.”
“Can you tell me where his suit is? I can’t find him.”
“His suit is still in the workshop, sir.”
It’s probably not a big deal, Steve tells himself as he thanks Jarvis and pulls out his phone to call Tony. Steve is a worrier, always has been. Tony will tease him, he’s sure.
Tony doesn’t pick up. Steve hasn’t seen him since yesterday, which isn’t unusual. Tony sometimes buries himself in his work for days on end, so no one really thinks to check in on him when he’s not around, but it means Steve has no idea how long he’s been gone.
“Not to overreact,” Steve says to Natasha and Clint, “but I think Tony is missing.”
---
“He left the mansion around one,” Natasha says. She’s bent over her laptop with the mansion’s security feeds opened in one window and something probably highly illegal in another. “On foot and without the armor, so not planning on going far or needing safety precautions. I’ll see if I can track his cell phone.”
“He wasn’t answering it.”
“Which means it’s probably off, but it doesn’t hurt to check.” There’s a pause where the only sound is of her typing. “Okay, that... makes no sense. According to this, his phone is in the middle of nowhere in Canada. And I do mean nowhere, if it weren’t one of Stark’s designs it wouldn’t even get signal out there.”
“But if he were planning on staying in the neighborhood and he couldn’t fly...”
“Then how did it get there, right,” Clint interjects with a grimace. “I take back that crack about the bar.”
“Get Thor and Bruce. I’ll prep the jet.”
“Iron Woman?” Natasha asks, and Steve hesitates.
“She’s in Japan on business.”
She makes an exasperated sound. “Yes, I know that. He’s her brother, Cap.”
“And I know that.” They stare at each other for a moment, but Steve caves. “Just go get ready, Widow.”
---
The first thing Tony is aware of is that he’s fucking freezing, and when he opens his eyes the reason is clear- wherever he is, the walls are coated in ice. His arc reactor is still in, but his phone is missing and he’s chained up like an animal, able to move but not very far. There’s a workbench on one side of the room.
Tony is reminded vividly of Afghanistan, despite the cold. But there is no Dr. Yinsen here, and most likely no one has even realized he’s gone yet. Where the hell is “here,” anyway?
“Hello, Tony. Remember me?”
---
Steve feels like his heart is caught in his throat as he waits for Tasha to pick up her phone, hoping that she’s still there to do so.
“Hey, Steve, now isn’t a great time.”
“Tony’s missing,” he spits out, and the other end of the line goes silent. “Tasha?”
“I’ll be in the states as soon as possible.”
“What do you mean, you can’t-”
“Steven,” she says tightly, “this is my brother we’re discussing. I’m going, I don’t care what business I’m disrupting or how goddamn long the flight is.”
Steve sighs. He’d expected it, but he had sort of hoped he could convince her to be sensible and not overextend herself. Wishful thinking.
“I’ll have Black Widow send you the coordinates, we’re heading to Canada.”
“Why the fuck-”
“We don’t know. Look, I’ve got a jet to pilot-”
“Yeah, go. I’ll meet you out there as soon as I can. Stay in touch.” The line clicks dead, and Steve sighs.
“Sounds like that went about as well as can be expected,” Clint says dryly, strapping himself into the jet. The others are already seated, Natasha waiting in the co-pilot’s chair.
“Pretty much. Let’s move.”
---
“Zeke Stane,” Tony says, aiming for calm and probably missing by a mile. “Last I heard you were in San Francisco, not an arctic wasteland.”
Zeke smiles, thin and mean and humorless. “Well, you know how plans can change. What, you don’t like?”
Tony throws a showy glance around him. “Could use some color. Maybe some art on the walls, you know. You should hire a better decorator.”
“I’ll take that under consideration. And while we’re on the subject, I’ve got something for you to think about.”
“And what would that be? I’m not building you any missiles- you know how well it worked out for the terrorists.”
“No, nothing like that. Either you synthesize vibranium for me and I shoot you in the head nice and quick, or you refuse, and I let you slowly starve to death. Your choice.”
He turns on his heel and leaves. Tony rattles ineffectually at the chains holding him down, but they’re solid and he has nothing to escape with, Zeke had made sure of that before Tony came to.
Tony reaches under his shirt and withdraws a small piece of metal from where he carries it, wedged in a slot he’d added to the arc reactor setting. It’s a round disc marked with concentric circles and a central star, set with a tiny chip of red stone that gives with a click when he digs his thumbnail in.
Tony hides the pin back in his chest and curls up to wait.
---
The trace on Tony’s phone had led them nowhere, literally. There’s nothing around for miles and miles but the snow. They found the phone, screen cracked but still functional, and had camped out in the jet to wait for Tasha to meet them. Clint and Natasha had both spent time muttering over it, but there’s nothing on Tony’s call histories to give them any useful information, so all they can do is sit and wait.
“Will you stop pacing?”
Steve doesn’t take waiting well.
“The longer we wait-”
Thor claps a heavy hand on Steve’s back. “We all are concerned for the welfare of our shield brother, but you must trust in Tony. He is strong.”
Steve manages a weak smile. “I know he is.” He sinks into the pilot’s seat to wait.
Considering she had been coming from Tokyo, Tasha arrives absurdly soon, even if it feels like forever. Steve is on his feet as soon as she enters the jet, and she’s immediately yanking her faceplate off and striding toward him. They meet in the middle; Steve wraps his arms around the armor in an embrace that would have been otherwise been crushing, and Tasha kisses him with the fierceness of desperation.
“Huh,” Bruce mutters in the background, “how long has that been going on?”
“Ages,” Clint answers. Steve isn’t really listening.
“What have you got?” Tasha asks against Steve’s lips, and he shakes his head.
“Not much. It looks like the phone was dropped from the air- there’s nothing around for miles and no sign of anyone but us having been here. We’re at another dead end.”
“Well, to get the drop on Tony without anyone knowing or seeing anything, we’re probably looking at hired pros for the actual grab, which means someone with money. So, safe to say he’s not being held for ransom, especially since we haven’t heard anything. Personal grudge is much more likely, but that’s an unfortunately long list. I’ve had my systems running searches on the flight over, but I haven’t come up with anything suspicious on any of the heavier hitters.” Most of this is said against Steve’s neck when she lets her head drop to his shoulder. “Was there anything useful on the phone?”
“Afraid not.”
“Can you two please stop talking shop standing like that?” Clint asks. Steve steps back with a blush, but it barely seems to register with Tasha. She has the manic, half-unfocused look she wears when she’s running on adrenaline and coffee working on a problem.
“Steve, I need your hand, take a glove off.”
“Um,” Bruce says uncomfortably, but is ignored.
“Can I ask why?” Steve inquires as he obliges.
“I need your fingerprints.” She pulls out her phone- an identical model to Tony’s, their proprietary extremely durable smartphones- and begins tapping furiously at the screen, plowing through what looks to be layers and layers of security protocols before her phone presents a blank red screen. She takes Steve’s hand and uses it to scan his thumb, and the phone pulls up a satellite map and blinks the word searching at her.
“If Tony is conscious and able to keep his head together, he’ll have tripped his distress signal.”
“He has a distress signal?”
“We both do. Our pins have them built-in.” She flashes a brief, tight smile. “You didn’t think we’d make something ordinary, did you?”
“You-” Steve shakes his head, leaving that to process later. “What if they took it?”
“If they found it, it means they’ve probably already dug his reactor out and it won’t do us any good,” Tasha replies grimly. Her phone beeps at her.
“I’ve got coordinates. I don’t know what we’ll be fighting through, but I know where we’re going to do it.”
“Strap in, team.”
---
“I’ve got six people.”
“All this, and only six?”
“Probably figured that being in the fucking Yukon would take care of being tracked,” Tasha growls over the comms.
“Looks like we might not even need you to get green, Bruce,” Steve says. “Thor and I will-”
“Oh hell no,” Tasha interrupts, “I am going in there and taking down whoever I find.”
An audible sigh. “Iron Woman and I will take the front of the building, Widow and Thor the back. Hawkeye, with Bruce as backup. Stop anyone who tries to get out. Clear?”
“Yes sir,” Tasha answers, and dives right for the building. There’s an almighty crash as she blows the door wide open with her repulsors, and more shouting from the back as Thor charges into the fray. Steve is right behind them, shield at ready.
“Stane!” Tasha shouts, and there is another blinding flare of light.
---
“Tony!”
He smiles, worn but genuinely glad. “Hey, Cap. I thought I heard violence.”
“That’s mostly your sister.”
“Atta girl.”
Steve breaks the chains with a few well-placed slams of his shield’s edge and helps Tony to his feet. The commotion above them is dying down somewhat, though Thor is still doing a lot of bellowing. Steve chances a quick kiss, though he keeps his eyes open and his shield to the cellar entrance.
“Cap to Widow, status report.”
“Enemies subdued. Have you got him?”
“Yeah.”
“Where is he? Because I’m going to kill him.” Tasha’s voice demands, and Steve tries not to smile as he and Tony head upstairs.
“Right here, sis,” Tony says, and doesn’t even protest when she locks her arms around him and lifts off the ground, heading back to the jet. Steve lingers behind to give them a moment, helping the others tie up Zeke Stane and the hired goons to throw in the prisoner hold of the jet until Natasha declares that his fretting is making her teeth hurt and shoos him along after.
Tasha has gotten out of her armor and settled in the pilot’s seat when he gets back; Tony is standing next to her, fiddling with the climate control. He looks... tired, cold still, edgy, but fine.
“I was worried about you.”
Tony turns to look at him, still moving a little stiffly. “I’m sure. Sorry.”
Steve shakes his head. “Not your fault. It’s just- if it weren’t for your secret distress call, we might not have found you.”
“Hey.” Tony clasps his shoulders. “You would have, okay? You would have found me. I know you, you don’t give up, not even on me.”
“Especially,” Steve murmurs, pulling him closer, “especially on you.”
Tony kisses him.
“How long has that been going on?” Bruce demands from the entrance to the jet. Clint makes a strangled sort of noise.
“No idea.”
“Also ages,” Natasha says, breezing past. “Can we go home now? If I liked snow I would have stayed in Russia.”
“Motion seconded,” Tony agrees, and throws himself down in the seat next to Thor. “Take us away, Tasha.”
---
“Steve, Steve,” Tony whines, shuddering up against him. They’re both drenched with sweat, and Tony’s fingers slide and scrabble helplessly as he grasps at Steve and tries to get closer as if there’s even a closer to get with Steve buried inside him and panting against his mouth.
“Come on,” Steve coaxes with a slightly harder rock of his hips, “I’ve got you, let go.”
Tony makes a desperate, needy noise and finally comes, shaking apart against Steve so thoroughly that that alone is enough to get Steve off as well.
“You’ve really gotten good at that,” Tony murmurs, and Steve smiles to himself and carefully pulls out of Tony and cleans them both up with some tissues. Tony curls up against him, exhausted but looking much calmer than he had since they’d found him. Steve kisses him and then they lie there in the quiet of Tony’s bedroom.
The door clicks open a few minutes later; Steve looks up, but it’s only Tasha. She’s dressed in a thin camisole and pajama bottoms, and climbs into bed with them without bothering to ask.
“Mm,” she hums when Tony turns over and hugs her, “you smell like Steve.”
“I wonder why.”
“Shut up, it’s nice, that’s all.” She burrows under the blankets and leaves Tony in the middle- usually the middle is Steve, by unspoken agreement. Eventually, the two men gather themselves enough to get under the covers as well, and there’s a little jostling as they all settle. Tony winds up with Steve spooned up behind him, and he settles an arm around Tasha’s shoulders in turn and worries her hair between his fingertips. She lets him.
“You’re going to have to teach me to work that tracking program you used,” Steve says, breaking the silence. “Why didn’t you tell me about it before?”
“We’re still working on the interface. Figured you’d want something you don’t have to be a programmer to run,” Tony replies.
“We’ll get it finished for you.”
Steve nods and runs a finger around the rim of Tony’s arc reactor until he touches the slot where the pin is hidden. “I’d feel better if you did. Thank you.”
“It will work on yours, too,” Tasha says, stretching out a hand to pluck it off the nightstand. “You just press the little crystal chip here down to start the signal.”
Steve takes his pin from her- you don’t wear your own pin, he had protested, but Tony had insisted he ought to have one anyway- and turns it over in a few times in his hand.
“I’ll start keeping it with me, then.” Steve hands it back to Tasha to set aside.
“One of the reinforced pockets on your costume should keep it safe. It’s pretty durable, but circuitry is delicate.” Tasha yawns and snuggles back into the pillow. “By the way, I have dibs on you tomorrow night.”
“Dibs?”
“I haven’t gotten my welcome back from Japan sex yet,” she answers with a lazy smile, closing her eyes. “Goodnight, boys.”
Sequel: Your heart is the place I call home