Fic: There Is No 'I'... 2/11
Chapter 2
One of the best things about Bruce Banner was that he liked Tony’s music. Or really, as Tony suspected, instead of ‘liked’ insert ‘didn’t notice’, but either way they could work together under the rough voice of Trent Reznor without complaint.
“I can make you angry.” Tony offered from his back as he wrenched at a seized bolt under the 1967 Firebird. The physicist made no comment. “Seriously, I can be incredibly irritating. If you could see under the eye patch there would be a twitch of canyon proportions whenever I talk to Fury.”
Spraying oil onto the bolt, Tony tried to loosen it again.
“I piss you off, you go steroid green and help…me…turn…this…bitch!” Still wouldn’t budge.
“If I get angry, it’ll toss these cars through the windows and pound you into tiny engineer shaped pieces.” Bruce was distracted by the simulations he had JARVIS working on. “Then Pepper would frown and I’m not man enough to deal with that.”
“Oh c’mon.” Tony wheedled. “Last chance,” he hissed at the bolt. Bracing himself on his heels, Tony lifted his hips off the ground, putting his full body weight onto the socket wrench. After two seconds a small shudder, then nothing. Tony slumped down.
“Where’s a super hero when you need one?” He asked the cosmos.
“Tony?” There was a note of wry amusement in Captain America’s voice.
Tony looked in despair at the underside of the muffler and indulged in a brief thirteen year old girl moment. Vintage would be a flattering term for the jeans he was wearing, boots unlaced, sweaty t-shirt, grease and oil smeared on his bare arms and yeah...nothing in his hair but finger trails. Some slick billionaire he turned out to be.
“Yeah, Cap?” He asked in a slightly strained voice before he gave himself a mental shake.
“Can you come out from under there, please?” No matter how polite Jarvis had taught Tony to be, it would never rival the courtesy of a boy born in a bygone era.
Scooting out on his ass, Tony took in Cap’s crouched figure, balanced easily on his toes, elbows on knees and fingers laced. His attire, just slightly more casual than the flag, army t-shirt and khaki pants reminded Tony that he’d have to take the man shopping sometime. Military surplus was fine in the short term, but the man would be devastating in some well cut jeans, let alone Armani.
Ruthlessly dragging his gaze away from the fabric stretched taut across Steve’s groin, Tony followed the direction of the blue eyes towards his red, fully restored 1938 SS Jaguar. His baby.
“You can take her for a spin if you like.” Tony offered.
Bruce made a strangled chocking sound.
Cap looked back with a narrowed, assessing gaze. “Thank you, I will.” But there seemed to be more behind the words that the obvious. “Right now Tony, would you please buy me a hot dog?”
Tony blinked and looked out the garage windows towards the mansion. “Sure, ahh Jarvis will…”
“Edwin is busy making dinner for everyone. You might consider hiring him some extra help given there are so many of us staying here now.” It must just have been a natural gift. Surely no other human could possibly deliver what was, in essence, a mild reprimand and make it sound like an honest suggestion with no blame attached.
“Sure,” Tony repeated. “I’ll get Mrs. Arbogast to bring some more people in. You really want a hot dog?”
Cap tilted his head curiously. “Unless they don’t sell them anymore…”
“Oh no, they still do.” Tony was sure they did, he’d just never bought one before.
“Then Tony, please buy me a real hot dog from a stand. Outside.” The slightest tone of command had entered the even voice.
Tony calculated the time it would take to shower, change clothes, make his hair awesome and find some money. He reassessed based on the determined look on the Captain’s face and came up with a clean t-shirt and no grease as his best possible option.
“Give me five minutes to clean up.” He was going to have to hit Bruce up for cash.
*****
A walk in the park for Tony Stark wasn’t the same as it was for everyone else. Happy was with Pepper, so Tony now had Oakley and two other burly security guards, suspected SHEILD agents, trailing the requisite eight steps behind him. Captain America was also at his side, watching Tony pay for five hotdogs, two with onion, three without, thus the SHEILD guys were acting like blushing fan boys, more likely to taser their own asses than any would-be assassins.
Oakley did have Tony’s briefcase though so the risk was minimal.
“I think we could use more women.” Steve said as he neatly tossed his balled-up paper napkin in a trash can fifteen feet away.
Tony grinned. “Just about everything could use more women, but I guess you mean the team?”
Cap pushed his hands into the pockets of his army issue BDU pants. “Not only just for our public image, but for a better work dynamic. We need more abilities that aren’t just power or hand-to-hand combat focused, a scout for example, would be ideal. If Nick can find a dame with…dammit…I mean a lady with those skills we’d be a lot more balanced.”
Grin widening at Steve’s verbal faux pas, Tony nodded. “Definitely more superhero girls if you can find them. And don’t worry too much about calling women ‘dames’, you they’ll forgive.” Because six foot of honest to god decency could work wonders with some members of the fairer sex.
“Nick has files on several lady heroes. One is a Lieutenant Rambeau from New Orleans, she can ‘convert her body to energy’,” Tony is sure Steve would have used air quotes if he’d been born in the latter half of the twentieth century. “Whatever that means. She’s young, but I think we should have a conversation with her.”
“Good idea.” Tony agreed, finishing his own food.
“So you can come to New Orleans?” Steve watched a small sparrow angrily begin to chirp at a butcher bird.
It took Tony a moment to make the conversational connection. “Me? Oh no Captain. The recruiting thing is definitely not my strong suit. You know about the mess I made with Bruce after talking to that General? No.” Tony would be adamant in the face of Steve’s desire. He would.
The larger bird retreated from the furious aggression of a creature one third its size. Cap smiled then spun on his heel to walk backwards in front on Tony, all easy grace and perfect co-ordination.
“Iron Man is the most famous Avenger.” Tony snorted disbelievingly, not after the digital recording of Captain America’s recovery had leaked onto YouTube he wasn’t. “You are. People knew you before you became a superhero and you live in this century.” Steve face had a hopeful, almost pleading look. “I’ll stick my foot in my mouth and she’ll never agree. Please?”
God help him. No wonder young men and women had offered their lives for their country with Steve Rogers looking at them like that. He could almost convince Tony he meant every word he’d just uttered.
“Take Natasha and Coulson.” Tony countered. “They won me over.”
Steve’s face said the many ways in which he didn’t believe that sentence. “We’ll need star power, we need Tony Stark.”
Tony was already working on keeping his ego in check most days. Now he had Captain America telling him he was a star. Next would be Nick Fury buying him a beer.
Or maybe not.
Stopping, Tony crossed his arms over his chest and thought about it. He was sure Pepper and the ridiculously efficient PA they shared could organize the trip, maybe with a Stark Industries cover reason to be in Louisiana.
“Okay. But if she’s too overwhelmed by my awesome, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” It was a joke but the Lieutenant could still refuse because of any number of reasons. Some of which might have to do with Tony.
Cap’s smile put the early afternoon sun to shame. “Everyone loves you or hates you,” the mockery dripping from every word.
That made Tony chuckle. “You just don’t know me well enough.”
“I know.” Tony was one hundred percent certain Steve’s voice hadn’t meant that to have the flirty edge it bore. He was smiling back, ready for some twenty-first century innuendo when Steve slapped a hand to his neck like he’d been mosquito stung.
“Take cover!” Cap shouted, spinning on his heel. “Oakley, sniper to the south. Get your men…to…move…” His voice started to drift as he stumbled.
Tony lurched forward to catch him as Steve fell, the big man’s weight pulling him to his knees in the warm, fresh-smelling grass. Gunfire broke out over them.
“Oakley, the case!” He yelled, checking Cap’s throat for a wound and finding a tiny metallic sliver. Tony snatched the dart from Steve’s neck and looked desperately towards his bodyguards. Oakley was down, maybe dead, Tony’s briefcase still cuffed to his wrist ten feet away.
“Don’t even.” The muzzle of a gun pressing into the back of his neck had Tony relax the spring he’d been about to attempt. His guards were all crumpled piles of suit around him, briefcase out of reach, Captain America unconscious in his arms.
“You guys fail at being ninjas you know. Like fifty people are recording this on their cell phones as we speak…” Tony stopped talking as the gun moved over his shoulder to point at Steve. His wanted to put his hand over Cap’s face protectively, like the flesh and bone could stop a bullet at this range.
“Get up.” Tony took one lingering look at the man in his lap, saw the briefest flicker of an eyelid and thanked heaven for the super soldier serum and the metabolism it had granted Steve. Gently laying the blond head in the grass, Tony didn’t resist as his wrists were cable-tied behind his back and he was pushed roughly into an unmarked van.
Steve would wake up soon with a monster headache, but at least he’d wake up.