[Fic] But the Heart - Steve x Tony (+ team and kid!Peter) 4/4
"Stark's been taken hostage by a rogue team of scientists who are calling themselves AIM," Fury says without preamble.
Steve takes a breath and feels his crisis mode flip on, strangling his horrified exclamation into silence, suppressing the panic he can feel roiling in his gut. He sets his stance, balancing on the balls of his feet.
"Do we know why?"
"Because he took something of theirs." Nick Fury's sharp gaze pins Steve with a look that's even harder than usual. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you, Captain?"
Steve thinks he probably should have followed up on his niggling suspicion that Tony wasn't telling him the whole truth about Peter. Out loud he says, "Probably nothing more than you do, Sir."
"Hm," Fury says, but Steve's pretty sure that he actually means, I don't believe you but I'll blame Stark for this because you're the responsible one and that illusion is what allows me to sleep at night. "I'll give you the report Stark gave us on the situation before everything went to hell and you can fill in any blanks you see."
"Sir, with all due respect, we can compare notes after we rescue Tony and Peter."
"Peter?"
"The, uh. Liberated AIM experiment?" Steve stifles a wince at the description.
"Right."
Steve expects a reprimand. Fury's sudden and complete shut-down of all expression is much worse.
"There isn't going to be a 'we' for this operation."
Anger and worry war for dominance as Steve draws a sharp breath. He can feel his shoulders drawing up; his fists clench. "Sir, The Avengers--"
"Are a response team that we send out to handle things beyond human abilities: armies from distant planets, slapfights between gods, science fair exhibits gone batshit crazy. Do you see any armies or gods or sixty-foot goo monsters trying to eat Manhattan?"
"No, but--"
"The last thing Stark needs is for the lot of you to bust in like the agents of chaos you are. AIM needs Patient 3 for whatever they're planning to do. They don't need Stark."
Steve feels himself go cold. "Is he still alive?"
There is the slightest of softening in Fury's expression. "According to our latest intel, yes. But if your team blunders in blindly we'll lose whatever tentative control of the situation we have, and then I can't assure you of Stark's safety."
"Agent Barton--"
"Is on probation."
That's news to Steve. He feels his eyebrow twitch, but plows on. "Agent Romanov--"
"Is on another mission. If she returns in time to take part in the operation, she'll have priority."
He can feel himself losing ground. His hands itch for his shield, although bashing Fury in the face with it and running is probably not a proper response, or a mature one. "Sir, you can't ask me to--"
"I'm not asking, Captain Rogers."
All of Steve's hackles go up. He's never been good at leaving men behind, and even if he had been, Tony is the exception to almost every rule. "If you think you can make me sit this one out, sir," he says, very calmly, enunciating clearly, "this is not going to end well for you."
He's a little surprised at his own vehemence. Fury is, too, by the arch of his eyebrow. Then there's a presence at Steve's shoulder and he almost cold cocks Coulson before recognizing him.
"Agent Coulson," Fury says, gaining back his steady, in-control gameface. "Would you get Captain Rogers a copy of Stark's report and make sure he's comfortable for the duration?"
Steve recognizes a dismissal and is not at all ready to be dismissed, but there's a light touch to his elbow, and Coulson says, "Come on, Captain."
"We'll let you know as soon as we know anything," Fury promises, for whatever that's worth, which at the moment doesn't feel like much to Steve.
"Please," Coulson says in a very soft undertone. "Trust me."
Steve doesn't see any way he can pursue this further without violence, and he does trust Coulson, so he gives Fury one last cold look and then follows the SHIELD agent out.
They're in an elevator, headed down, when Steve asks, "'Make me comfortable' is just code for 'put him in the brig until he calms down' isn't it?"
There's a slight twitch at the corner of Coulson's mouth that might have been a smile on anyone else. "Something like that."
"I can't leave him in peril, Phil," Steve says as the walk down a long, narrow corridor lined with doors with holographic keypad locks.
Coulson stops at a door and opens it with a brisk flick of fingers and an eyescan. "I know." Then he stands back to wave Steve inside when the door slides open with a futuristic swoosh that still thrills Steve a little. "Please trust that this is for the best."
Steve looks in at the plain, metal room--cot fused to the wall, sink and toilet the same, then he looks at Coulson, who looks steadily back at him.
"Please," he says again.
There's something in Coulson's expression, in his voice, that makes Steve move forward against his better judgment until he's inside the cell, looking at the agent via the mirror that's in front of him, over the sink. Coulson's mouth twitches into a more obvious smirk and his eyes flick up toward the ceiling.
Then the door slides shut behind him and he's alone.
For all of fifteen minutes.
Steve's sitting on the cot, having a staring contest with the security camera he knows is behind the flat glass circle just above the door, when a panel opens in the ceiling over his head and a grinning Agent Barton leans over the side, hissing, "Psssst!"
Steve looks at him, trying not to react, and flicks a meaningful glance at the camera.
Barton waves his concern away. "We've got that covered. Come on up!"
He drops a knotted rope. Steve stands up on the cot and jumps, grabbing hold of the rim of the open section of ceiling and pulls himself up in one smooth movement.
"Or do that," Barton says, sounding mildly annoyed. "Sure, fine. Show off."
"Tony's in trouble."
"So I heard." Barton winds his rope and tosses it into a SHIELD-issue duffle bag at his feet beside his bow's carrying case. He's wearing his quiver and Hawkeye costume and a sleek set of sunglasses, which Steve thinks might be slightly detrimental in the dim light, but he doesn't ask. "I also heard the Eagle wanted us to sit this one out. We're not letting that shit fly, are we, Cap?"
"If by that you mean we're going after him ourselves, then yes."
"Damn straight," Barton says, picking up his duffle and bow and leading the way. "Stark may make me want to drop kick him off a tall building from time to time, but he's our people. He doesn't get left behind."
Two flights of utility stairs and a catwalk later, Steve thinks to ask, "Why is there a trapdoor in the ceiling of a holding cell?"
"You know Stark designed this place?"
Steve blinks. "He did?"
"Yeah. And I guess he doesn't trust SHIELD much. Or maybe just Fury. So there's the official blueprints that SHIELD has on file, and then there's the real blueprints, which I've seen. It's just full of surprises like that."
After a moment of consideration, Steve asks, "Agent Coulson knows about the real blueprints, doesn't he?"
Barton flashes him a grin. "Is there anything Phil doesn't know?"
They're making their way across beams that cross over a currently unmanned control hub when Steve asks, "What did you do that got Fury to put you on probation?"
Because it was in Steve's experience that the pragmatic Director simply adjusted the difficulty or tediousness of missions as a disciplinary action, rather than take an agent completely off the roster.
"Oh, a combination of things," Barton said breezily. "But the zombie turkeys are what probably tipped the scale."
Steve is not going to ask. "Where are we going, by the way?"
Because all Steve can tell is that they are moving steadily upward, but he's having trouble orienting in the unfamiliar guts of the carrier.
"We need a distraction to get to the hanger, and I know just the person to provide us with one."
"Oh my goodness!" Dr. Banner exclaims as they tumble out of a wall into his lab by way of yet another sliding panel in an improbable place.
"Hello, gorgeous," Clint says, crowding into Dr. Banner's space.
Steve almost warns him off until he realizes that the invasion is not unwanted. When did that happen? He could have sworn Clint and Coulson...or Clint and Agent Romanov...and Steve's going to stop thinking about it right now because it's none of his business.
Steve clears his throat and says, "We could use your help, Dr. Banner."
"Oh?" Dr. Banner plucks a shiny-something out of Clint's hands with a delicate but sure touch and sets it aside carefully. "What for?"
"Actually..." Clint follows the edge of a lab table with nervous fingertips. "It's the 'other guy' we need."
Bruce blinks and then frowns, hunching into himself slightly. He takes off his glasses, cleans them, puts them back on. "I'm not--it's been almost three months since an incident."
He gestures toward a wall, where a "Congratulations on Not Turning Into a Giant Green Rage Monster and Killing Us All You Really Know How To Make a Guy's Life Boring for [ 86 ] Days" graphic is floating, rendered in lines of light on a surface area that seems to be glass or clear plastic of some sort.
"Did Tony make that?" Steve asks.
Dr. Banner's mouth tips up. "How did you guess?"
"Babe, this is about Stark. We wouldn't ask the 'other guy' to come and play if it weren't important."
"What's happened?"
Steve tells what he knows of the story. Dr. Banner listens without interrupting, focus on Steve even as he patiently takes things out of Barton's inquisitive grip and places them in safer locations.
By the end, Dr. Banner is frowning, arms crossed, posture perfectly still. "Fury's not letting us go after him?"
"No. He seems to think we'd botch the job."
Dr. Banner considers this, dark eyes focusing on the middle distance for a moment, before looking back at Steve. "What do you think?"
Steve hesitates, wondering if he should sow dissension without having cold, hard facts. "I think...I think Tony isn't Fury's top priority."
Dr. Banner breathes out, takes off his glasses, and sets them aside carefully. "You might want to stand back."
Steve is following Barton through the hallways minutes later as alarms blare all around them, warning lights flashing, SHIELD agents running past them in a disciplined scurry.
"That took less persuasion than I thought it would," Steve says.
Barton shrugs. "Bruce likes Stark. Hulk likes Stark, too."
No one looks twice at them in the chaos, even as Barton stabs a keypad with an arrow and pulls Steve to cover before it explodes.
"Are you sure it's going to be okay?" Steve asks over the din.
"Oh yeah," Barton says, hopping into the elevator. "He's got way more control these days. It's perfectly safe."
The elevator shudders. The lights blink off, and then emergency lights flicker on. Several floors below them, the Hulk roars and smashes something. Steve looks at Barton in the orange-red glow.
"It's fine," Barton says after a moment, and hands him an oxygen mask.
When the elevator doors open, the wind is like a cold, full body slap. Steve braces against it, has to grip the edge of the doors and pull to get momentum, stepping out onto the deck.
"Hey!"
There are still some personnel above deck, but only one of them is paying attention to them--a guard with first lieutenant pips on his collar swings his combat rifle in their direction.
"Halt!" he barks, and Steve can't help but think that he sounds very young. "What are you doing up here?"
"Christ," Barton mutters, shifting so that he's hidden behind Steve, hands drifting toward his bag. "Overachiever."
"We're in lockdown. You're not even allowed to access this elevator. What's your clear--"
A dark shape drops silently behind him and there's a snap-sizzle of sound before the first lieutenant drops to the deck.
"Tasha?" Barton says to the newcomer in an astonished voice.
Agent Romanov tilts her head, red hair whipping around her face, Widow's Bite still throwing sparks. "Sorry I'm late."
"Actually, your timing is perfect as usual, ma'am," Steve says, a grin pulling at his mouth.
She nods, rolls the young soldier at her feet into recovery position after she checks his pulse and then straightens as they approach her. When they draw abreast, she turns and leads the way at a brisk pace.
"We're going to need a transport that doesn't have SHIELD registration," Barton says.
"Will they really try tracking us while Hulk is rampaging?"
"Big Green can't hold their attention forever, and it's not the GPS locator we have to worry about. There's an override protocol upgrade they installed recently that works a little like an RPA. Basically, they can access our controls remotely and turn us right back to base if necessary. It's a neat safety measure but for our purposes it's just annoying."
Agent Romanov leads them up the ramp of a sleek carrier helicopter--not any model type that Steve has seen before, smaller than what he's used to and, well, shinier. No one else questions them. Steve thinks he notices a few more unconscious agents tucked into discrete corners along their path, but decides not to mention it.
"Nice." Barton says, sliding into the pilot's seat as Agent Romanov takes co-pilot. "Now all we have to do is disable the SAT NAV system and rewire it to--"
"Not necessary."
Steve spins, chagrined to have been caught off guard. There's a black man in a sharply pressed Air Force flight suit walking up the ramp. He's carrying a bundle in a waterproof tarp, and he doesn't look particularly young--at least, not in that green way that means Steve might be able to bowl him over with a stern tone and the Captain America "Stand Back, Citizen" stance. Steve braces himself for a long argument or, more likely, to push him back out onto the deck. Gently, of course.
The other man seems to read his intent and shifts his bulky package so he can hold up a hand in a universal "don't hurt me" gesture, slowing but not stopping completely.
"Hold on. I'm on your side," he says.
"Colonel Rhodes," Natasha says behind Steve. She sounds like he was expecting him and that, more than the other man's non-hostile approach, gets Steve to stand down. "Welcome aboard."
"Thanks for calling me. I always appreciate a heads up when Tony swan dives into his newest disaster."
Something in his familiarity with Tony triggers a memory in Steve's head, a combination of conversations with Tony and idle reading through files of possible future members of The Avengers.
"You're Tony's 'Rhodey'," Steve says and then flushes a little at being so familiar without permission.
Rhodey grins. "And you're Tony's 'Cap'. Here, I brought you a present." He hands Steve the package and then steps past him toward the pilot's seat. "Move over, Katniss. You're in my seat."
At Natasha's raised eyebrow, Rhodey protests, "What? I've got cousins. Little girl cousins and--Look, don't judge me, okay?"
Steve slides the cloth away to reveal the gleam of his shield and smiles. It feels like coming home to strap it across his back.
"You brought in another pilot?" Barton asks, looking at Agent Romanov with sad, wounded eyes even as he unbuckles the safety harness and gets out of the way. "I thought we had a thing."
"Don't get your feathers in a twist," Rhodey says as he slips into his seat. "I'm sure there'll be plenty else for you to do. This is mostly for expediency, anyway. This is a Stark prototype and it only responds to me."
The Colonel touches a button and the entire interior flickers, dimming as the HUD becomes a graphic of lights--data feed, charts, graphs, a thousand variables monitored, calculated and fed back into the cockpit in a steady stream of information.
"Hello, sweetheart," Rhodey croons.
"Good evening, my turtle dove," a lady voice that Steve recognizes as synthetic, despite the realistic quality, purrs back.
Everyone stares at Colonel Rhodes, who clears his throat and looks embarrassed. "It's a long story. Tony programmed it. Which, I guess, might make it an even longer story. Let's just get going, shall we?"
The takeoff is so smooth Steve almost doesn't feel it. "Where to?" he asks, leaning over the seat to look out at the dark sky.
In a normal helicopter there wouldn't be much to see, but Tony's prototype has a flitting target-circle like a strange bird, catching on and noting the movement of clouds, weather patterns, other planes and even the odd flock of gulls. Beside him, Clint is touching things with sure fingertips, flicking through information, expanding images to see them clearer before dismissing them again with a wave of his hand. Steve can't keep up and doesn't try. He knows they're over open ocean and headed for the shoreline.
"For that, I'm waiting for a phone call."
"Priority call incoming," the pleasant female voice intones.
"And there it is. Patch it through."
"Colonel Rhodes," a crisp, English-accented man says.
"JARVIS, hi. I've got you on speaker. Any luck narrowing down Tony's whereabouts? Did getting you in close proximity to the SHIELD home base help you at all?"
"Oh, yes. I was able to hack their mainframe in a fraction of the time it would've taken otherwise. I do appreciate your efforts, Colonel."
"I'm sorry," Steve cuts in, unable to keep silent any longer. "Who's this?"
"Good evening, Captain. My name is JARVIS. I'm sorry we weren't able to meet under less dire circumstances."
"You're a friend of Tony's?"
"In a manner of speaking. I count myself a friend, in any case. Whether or not Mr. Stark counts me as one is another issue entirely."
"JARVIS is a computer program," Agent Romanov reports, sounding completely blasé about the unbelievable words coming out of her mouth.
"The most advanced AI in the world," Barton adds, looking speculatively at the out the cockpit window as if he might be able to parse the shape of it out of the vague form of clouds moving by in the darkness.
"Indeed," the English...computer? agrees. "Developed and programmed by Anthony Edward Stark.
Of course. Steve shakes himself and tries not to get bogged down in what he doesn't know. "So how illegal is what you just did?"
"Oh, very," JARVIS sounds positively cheerful. Steve can suddenly see Tony's hand in his--its?--creation. "But if it makes any difference to you, I am virtually untraceable, and it was worth it."
"What did you find out?" Rhodes demands.
"A piece of coding heretofore unknown to me which I used to extrapolate and decipher the information Mr. Stark downloaded into my system earlier today from patient 3 sublet R, serial 234400992."
"Peter," Steve says. "Peter's microchip."
"Indeed. Mr. Stark and I have been working on cracking the encryption on the data for the past thirteen point seven two hours. The information SHIELD had already acquired on AIM has helped expedite things immensely. I only wish I'd had it sooner."
"So did it give you any insights into AIM's experiments that might help us narrow down where they've taken Tony and Peter?" Steve asks, unable to help the impatience that creeps into his tone.
"Better yet, Captain," JARVIS says, sounding slightly smug. "It gave me the location of their main lab."
~*~
"He's not coming," Barton murmurs, adamant even without volume to back it up. His voice sounds crystal clear in Steve's ear through his comm.
"He'll be here," Steve insists. Around him, the cold desert night stretches on in all directions, flat lands gleaming white in the moonlight. He's painfully aware of how little cover he has here, even though there are storm clouds gathering overhead.
"Remind me again why we're even waiting? I mean, I love the guy, but he's not exactly a stealth operative."
"Trust me," Steve says.
He can feel the electricity gathering in the air, humming along his skin, making the fine hairs on his arm and the back of his neck stand up. Then the sky rips open, and Steve glimpses a tiny, far-away shape with a red cape blazing against the black sky just before the mother of all lightning bolts tears down from the heavens and shreds into the distant mountains, where Steve knows from Rhodey's recon the generators powering AIM's giant, underground lab reside.
"Thank you, Thor," Steve says into the comms, trusting JARVIS to patch them through.
"Go, my friend. Find our Man of Iron and his little one and bring them home safely," Thor booms, making Steve wince. "I shall create a distraction, though I would much prefer to be at the frontlines of the battle."
"Noted and appreciated," Steve says.
"We'll let you do all the heavy hitting next time, big guy," Barton says.
"I shall hold you to that promise, archer!" Thor says over the roar of thunder. Lightning hits the ground continuously, three or four bolts at a time, making desert almost as bright as daytime. The smell of scorched earth tickles Steve's nose, calls to mind the wet forests of Germany in a long ago war. Not quite the same, but similar enough that Steve makes himself focus on the task at hand.
"On my mark," Steve says, and between one breath of lightning and the next says, "Mark!"
He jumps and slides feet first down an open shaft--JARVIS speculates it's a ventilation shaft from the readout he--it? Steve's still not sure--gathered using the sensors on Stark's helicopter. There are dozens scattered and hidden throughout the almost-mile radius of the underground facility. He knows Barton and Agent Romanov are entering the same way, all roughly equidistant from each other in a triangle pattern. Their plan is to start at the edges and work toward the center, looking for signs of Tony and Peter.
Steve is hoping AIM perceives Thor's attack as a strange natural occurrence, or at the very least is confused long enough that no one thinks to start hurting the hostage--hurting Tony. Or killing him.
He can't let the constriction of his heart slow him down or make him clumsy. He can't let his worry and doubts distract him. Instead, he lets them fuel him, the same way they did when he got Bucky and his regiment out of HYDRA's base.
He will find Tony and Peter, and bring them home.
He falls in pitch black, hits a vent and kicks it out--mostly by landing on it. His fall is broken by a person--he can feel the give and hear the grunt. In darkness, he swats aside a weak punch and kicks someone in a weak spot--probably the face, from the way it snaps back. Then he spins and his shield lights sparks as it ricochets off a wall and pings solidly off two more bodies. There are cries of distress. Someone fires a stray shot of light--laser weapon, from the way the ceiling scorches from the starburst as it hits. Red emergency lights switch on. Steve reaches out and catches his returning shield.
He's in a lab--he's seen enough by now to know what they look like even if they're unfamiliar. Three guards, dressed in ridiculously yellow uniforms, fallen around him and no more in sight; a man and a woman in lab coats are cowering against a wall.
There are cages all around him, with vaguely- animal shapes inside, blackened and still. In one of the larger cages, a monkey leans listlessly against the back wall of its cell. As Steve watches, it turns and looks at him, eyes black and empty.
Steve takes a step toward it and the female scientist says, "Don't!" just as the creature flings itself against the bars toward Steve, screaming, face suddenly contorted with malice. Its teeth are long and sharp.
He looks at the two people who are still standing as far away as possible but have yet to make any hostile moves. "What are you doing here?"
The man says nothing. The woman's reply is tremulous but defiant. "We won't tell you anything."
Steve wishes he had time to get information out of them, but he has other priorities. He looks at the monkey for a long moment. It's settled again, chewing bits out of its own fingers. He looks away. "JARVIS."
"Sir?"
"Can you download their research?"
"Their security systems are complex, but I will make an attempt."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"No, sir, please allow me to do this. You have other concerns."
Steve wonders if he's just been reprimanded by a computer, and figures he deserves it. He ushers the scientists into a closet a little more forcefully than is strictly necessary and breaks the door handle, then checks in.
"I've secured my landing point. Team status."
"Secure," Agent Romanov reports. "Ready to move out."
"I have a slight problem," Barton says. "This grate is bolted in. I'm going to need a minute."
From somewhere deeper in the facility, an explosion shakes the foundation hard enough that Steve has to catch his balance on a table.
"That wasn't me," Barton says.
"Stark," Agent Romanov says. Whether she's guessing or whether she's got eyes on the situation, Steve isn't sure.
"Can you see him?" he asks, wrenching at the door to the hallway that apparently sealed shut when the power cut out.
"No, but..."
"But to find Stark all you have to do is follow the sound of things blowing up," Barton concludes
Steve starts running, because he's relatively certain that Barton isn't wrong.
He gets into a few skirmishes on the way, but mostly people seem intent on getting away from the situation. Whatever happened continues to send shuddering aftershocks through the facility, and outside, Steve can hear Thor's rage still beating against their defenses. Aside from the very obvious shield he's not wearing the rest of his uniform so he blends, sort of. Enough to move relatively unmolested through the hallways until he pulls open a doorway and finds himself in the central hub.
It's vast, a round room that extends almost five floors up from its ground level, which is three floors below him. There are walkways rimming its peripheral for each floor, hemmed in with guardrails. There's a crack of thunder over Steve's head that sounds a lot closer than it should.
Steve looks up. Tony has, somehow, managed to put a sizeable hole in the ceiling. As he watches, a chunk of it falls. Steve follows its progression down to where it smashes into the floor grates below. More guards in yellow scatter in its wake, retreating to less hazardous positions. There are person-sized tubes ringing one side, some broken, some empty, some hosting more monkeys suspended in a greenish liquid.
Tony is hiding behind a wall of machinery full of blinking lights. Steve's heart leaps when he sees him. He very nearly calls out, but another voice interrupts.
"WHERE IS THE BOY?" says the...thing. Steve isn't entirely sure what he's looking at, although what it seems to be is a giant floating head. A really really ugly one, with a disproportionately large mouth and squinty eyes and deep wrinkles. It also seems to have arms and legs, skinny, atrophied things.
"Oh sure," Tony says. "If you just ask me menacingly I'll definitely tell you. It's not like I blew up your evil base of evil just to let him escape or anything."
"MODOK WILL NOT TOLERATE YOUR INSUBORDINATION!" it shrieks.
"Is it really insubordination if I'm not a subordinate?"
Behind Steve, someone yells that he's not allowed in here, and he throws the shield without looking around. But there are more soldiers closing in on his position, and he has to turn away from the sight below so he can deal with them.
"YOU WILL BOW TO MY WILL," MODOK bellows from the ground floor. "YOU WILL GIVE UP THE BOY."
"YOU WILL NOT BE A HIDEOUS MONSTROSITY BENT ON SOME CONVOLUTED PLAN TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD REVOLVING AROUND REALLY SHADY GENETIC TINKERING! See how just yelling what you want won't actually make it happen?"
One of the guards has gotten close enough that he's within arm's reach. Steve grabs him and they do a slightly awkward dance as Steve uses him to block a few incoming blows from close proximity enemies before tossing him over the side. Steve feels only slightly guilty about that. He's relatively certain it isn't a fatal fall, even for someone without super serum.
Tony sees the guard hit the ground and glances up to make eye contact with Steve. Then he waves and mouths, "Hi, honey!" or possibly, "Hi, mom!" or "Hi, Leonardo!" because Tony had started calling him that for reasons Steve probably doesn't want to know. Also, the light in here is erratic and Steve's never been the best at reading lips.
"IF YOU DO NOT CALL HIM, YOU WILL KNOW PAIN BEYOND IMAGINING," MODOK warns in dire tones, apparently unaware that Tony's no longer paying strict attention to him.
Steve gives Tony his, "I could use a distraction" eyebrow raise, which gets Tony's "that's great because I rock at distractions" head nod.
"Funny thing about that." Tony turns back to MODOK and grins. "You actually have to catch me first, and I don't think that's very likely, seeing as you’re an ugly jerkface with stubby arms and legs and an appallingly disproportionate number of incompetent guards, while I am the attractive protagonist of this story just stalling long enough for the imminent arrival of my super hero friends. Also," Steve sees Tony swing out from his cover with one of AIM's weapons in hand, "I have this laser rifle."
But MODOK only smiles, an awful expression that splits across his entire face. "THAT'S WHERE YOU ARE WRONG. I DON'T HAVE TO TOUCH YOU TO MAKE YOU SCREAM."
Tony staggers as if he's been shot, dropping to his knees and clutching his head. MODOK laughed. "FEEL MY WRATH AND KNOW YOURSELF TO BE THE WEAKLING SLUG BENEATH MY HEEL."
"Hey!" Steve says, stepping up on the rail. "Leave him alone or face my wrath."
Some small part of Steve can acknowledge the posturing for what it is, because he really doesn't have any intension of giving MODOK a chance to give up peaceably. He leaps off the rail as he throws the shield, hitting the ground and rolling to his feet, registering the resounding clang and scream from the floating head and holding up his hand just as the shield slaps home. MODOK spins off, hits a wall and bounces hard on the ground before rolling to a gradual stop small arms flailing once before he goes still.
Steve kneels beside Tony, turning him over carefully, cradling his head. There's a trickle of blood running from his nose and he's pale, but breathing. Steve places his hand over the arc reactor, feeling the edge against his palm through layers of cloth, and wills Tony to open his eyes.
"I found Tony," he reports. "Has anyone seen Peter?"
"We're on it," Natasha says. "We'll find him."
"I have your position." That's Rhodey. "Hold tight for evac. Do you need medical attention?"
"Yes," Steve says, trying to decide if it's okay to move Tony behind better cover without knowing what's wrong with him. "Be alert. Hostiles still active in the area."
"Roger that."
AIM's soldier bees--Steve can't help but think of them as bugs; their bright yellow uniforms have black decorative striping--are hovering on the outskirts of the room, tentative near the central location of chaos and destruction. Steve takes out two of the bolder ones with one shield throw and then drags Tony as gently as he can back to a defensible position.
"No," Tony grumbles, and Steve's focus shifts back to him immediately, even as he blocks a laser blast with his shield and then . "No medics. M'fine."
"You haven't even opened your eyes."
"Yes I have."
"No you haven't," Steve says gently, pushing Tony back as he struggles to sit up.
"Peter?"
"Barton and Agent Romanov are still looking. They'll find him."
Tony blinks up at him. "See, eyes open."
Steve looks him over for injuries now that they're in relative safety, but his pupils look okay and nothing seems to be bleeding. "What happened?"
"Don't know. Some type of...telepathic attack, I think. Hurts like a son of a b--uh. Gun." Tony flicks a slightly nervous look at Steve and Steve gives into the urge to brush Tony's hair back from his eyes. When Tony leans into it, eyes sliding shut again, Steve keeps very still, wondering if this would be considered taking advantage.
Then Tony puts his hand over Steve's, holding it in place with a slight, contented smile. "You rescued me. My hero."
"Um, well," Steve can feel himself blush. "I sort of think you rescued yourself, more or less."
"That's because I'm an amazing super genius," Tony says. "But seriously, you made sure that thing was down for the count, right?"
"I hit him--it--really really hard."
"Go hit it again."
Tony's probably right, even though Steve's reluctant to leave him. A laser blast hits just over their heads, making both of them duck for cover. Tony rolls to his feet, wincing a little, picks up his discarded rifle and returns fire, only somewhat wobbly. Steve eyes the distance he needs to get to MODOK's prone form, then glances at Tony.
"Got my back?"
"Always," Tony grins, leaning close so that his next words are a murmur against Steve's ear. "And not just because your ass is really very fine."
"Would you let your boyfriend know that your comms will pick him up at close proximity?" Barton demands with a slight whine. "Also I don't want to know why he's that close."
"Boyfriend--!" Steve squawks, and then yelps again when Tony slaps his behind and sends him out into the fray while he lays down cover fire.
Steve leaps a chunk of ceiling, backhands an AIM soldier out of the way, and skids behind the rubble where MODOK fell. He has time to wonder if it's possible to take a pulse, and if he's callous enough to hit someone who's already down, then the eyes slit open, and--
Steve's world scrapes sideways into a screaming mess of mortar rounds and bullets, barbed wire and the scratch of an old recording that wasn't old at the time. Gray toned mornings and yellow-candlelight nights, grief and grief and marching onward, leaving everyone behind.
"Steve! Snap out of it!"
There's an impact and a sharp, singing sound. Steve has the vague realization that Tony just shot him--in the shield, but still. There's danger but Steve can't quite--he can't-- He's on his knees and everything's sluggish, and memory is dragging him down again.
Then MODOK is screaming and Steve sags, catching himself on his hands, disoriented, and there's pain everywhere--a blinding flash of lightning. Thunder cracks the air. Steve sees a person-shaped shadow riding MODOK, long claws tearing into anything they can reach. Steve feels it like they're in his brain. Darkness consumes him.
When he opens his eyes--when the next flash of lightning illuminates things, there's a shape bent over him. It looks like animated tar, thick and sliding, never quite solid. It's holding to a vague man-shape but for the mouth which is wide with razor sharp teeth and a tongue that seems far too large, long and pointed, almost prehensile.
That's a lot of black. Steve thinks, fuzzily, part memory, part realization. A lot of black. And eyes. And teeth in the darkness.
It pauses, hovering over him, steady regard a flat, unreadable white, no pupils or irises, glowing faintly. Sparks flash behind it a wire snaps somewhere. In the distance, Steve can hear someone calling out to him frantically.
"Steve," the thing says, a guttural sound, flicking its tongue out like it can taste his name. Then it straightens and disappears out of his sight. He watches it go, lights flashing on its heels, and he doesn't understand.
When he next becomes aware, someone's shaking him and yelling at him crossly. "Steve if you don't wake up I'll do something rash. I'll--I'll use swear words in front of Peter."
"Oh the horrors," someone drawls.
"Shut it, Clint."
Steve cracks his eyes open. He's on his back and The Avengers, sans the Hulk but plus Rhodes, are gathered around him. Tony looks visibly relieved, the pinched, panicked look around his eyes easing as he sits back a little.
"Did we win?" he asks.
"Was it ever a question?" Tony waves that away.
"We're not entirely sure how," Agent Romanov reports. "Peter helped."
Steve blinks and struggles to sit up. Tony helps him. Parts of the room are covered in a fine white film, which Steve gradually realizes is spider webs. There are several cocoons that are probably people, but he just doesn't have the capacity to work out what that means right now.
Peter is perched on Thor's shoulder. He looks unharmed, and when he sees that Steve is awake he grins brightly. "Steve!"
"Oh, yeah," Tony says with a toothy grin that belies his deliberately casual tone. "It turns out our kid has super powers. So that's awesome."
"The little Midgardian has the makings of a fierce warrior!" Thor says.
"Also," Tony says, "did you call me your boyfriend, earlier?"
There's a fuzzy memory where the word definitely played a part, though Steve's having trouble recalling the details just now. "Did I?"
"Well, I don't know. You tell me." There's something in Tony's tone that's not necessarily in his words. Even through a vague haze and a building headache, Steve can hear it. A verbal defensive hunch of shoulders.
"May I?" Steve asks quietly.
Tony considers him narrow-eyed for a moment, and he tries not to twitch or fidget. Then Tony smiles, sweet, surprisingly open, and it makes Steve's heart do a slow flip in his chest, makes him tingle down to his toes.
"Small children and Clint look away," Tony announces as his smile turns slightly wicked. No less tingle-inducing, although it's a sensation of a slightly different sort, as Tony reaches for him and pulls him in for a kiss.
It's gentle, more so than Steve expected. And, while Steve is sitting and Tony kneeling, Tony has the height advantage. He tips Steve's head up with a sure touch, fingers cupping the back of his skull as lips brush softly over his with only the slightest hint of suction, of teeth scraping lightly.
Clint is making gagging noises, but as they pull away, Steve can feel Tony's smile against his lips, can see it in the crinkle of his eyes this close, so he takes a handful of Tony's shirt and tugs him in for another, this one more demanding.
This time it's Peter who breaks them up, colliding with Steve in one of his full-tilt runs. Tony laughs as all three of them go sideways, but eventually they make it back to their feet, Tony swaying into him a little, Peter between them, arm slung around either of their waists.
"The Eagle is descending," Agent Romanov says, eyes up toward the hole in the ceiling where searchlights are starting to track the wreckage, the sound of helicopters closing in.
"You guys probably want to get out of here before Fury catches up with you."
"I can fly you out under the radar if Jolly Blond Giant can give us a lift to the chopper," Rhodey says, glancing at Thor.
"It would be my honor to aid my tiny yet worthy allies," Thor answers solemnly.
Steve frowns. Even though his head is heavy with exhaustion and for the first time in a while he doesn't dread letting sleep find him, he still feels Team Captain responsibility crack its whip, albeit more quietly than usual. "We'll have to give a report. Paperwork..."
"We'll cover for you," Agent Romanov offers.
"Ew, Tasha, no," Clint says. The eyebrow raise he gets in return looks sharp enough to make a lesser man bleed.
"Dissolvable ceramic arrow heads, perfect for airport security and Magneto," Tony says.
"There's dissolvable ceramic?"
"I'll invent some."
"No less than two dozen."
"You'll get ten."
"Twenty."
"Fifteen."
"Done." Clint claps Steve on the shoulder and grins. "Scurry on home, Cap. We'll clean up here."
"Home?" Peter asks, looking up at them and blinking sleepily. It's been a long day for all of them.
"Yes," says Steve.