Avengers fic - Another Day Like Today - Chapter 5
Title: Another Day Like Today
Fandom(s): Avengers MCU, Doctor Who
Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Eleventh Doctor, Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton (more to come)
Pairings: None; Steve & Tony friendship, mentions of Steve/Peggy
Ratings: Teen
Warnings: Very mild angst
Spoilers:Any and all MCU movies through The Avengers (2012) are fair game, as is anything through Series 6 of NuWho (though there isn't much spoilery of the latter)
Chapters: 5 of 9
Series: Part One of Only Time
Word Count: 1809
Summary: Steve and Tony clash over Steve's decision to pull Tony out of the subway fight, leading to a moment of team bonding.
Beta: cygna_hime -- Thank you! <3
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
The minute they passed through the doorway of the briefing room, Stark ripped his helmet off and rounded on Steve; for an instant, Steve actually thought the helmet was going to come flying at him. “I’m either on this team or I’m not, Rogers,” he snarled. “We’re not out there playing Little League - don’t bring me into a fight and then bench me at the first sign of trouble.”
Steve felt his own hackles rising in response to the heat in Stark’s voice. “First sign of-? Are you insane? One shot from their weapons almost completely drained your arc reactor. Which, if I remember my briefing memos right, not only powers the suit, but keeps your heart beating. I made the right call for the mission, and if that hurts your ego, that’s not my problem.”
He felt the other Avengers take up alert postures, responding to Stark’s confrontational stance. “I single-handedly enforced world peace for six months before being tapped by the Avengers Initiative. If that’s not good enough for you, if you don’t think I can cut it out there, you just tell me now.”
An angry retort was halfway out of Steve’s mouth before he bit it back. There was something different about Stark’s attitude this time, something that hadn’t been there in the argument on the Helicarrier. He studied the other man: dark eyes defiant, chin thrust out as if inviting - no, expecting - a blow. Stark’s words echoed through his head; not good enough, can’t cut it. Steve felt his eyes widen as he realized what was going on. Is he afraid we’re going to reject him?
He’d seen it enough during the war. Injured soldiers fighting the orders to be shipped home, out of fear of losing the respect of the men they’d bonded with, bled with, on the battlefield. Why Tony Stark should feel that way eluded him, but that's where all the signs pointed. Though he could still feel the adrenaline coursing through his system, Steve’s anger abruptly drained out of him. “Of course you’re part of this team, Iron Man. This entire city would be a smoking crater if you hadn’t been here yesterday. But all of us have vulnerabilities - all of us. And today we ran into yours. Tomorrow it’ll be someone else’s turn. That’s part of the reason for having a team.”
Stark let out a derisive snort. “Sure, ‘all of us’ have weaknesses, he says to the guy on a team with a supersoldier and a godling.”
“You think Thor doesn’t have any weaknesses?” Steve let his incredulity show in his tone. “You saw the same footage that I did from the fight on the Helicarrier. Thor’s not stupid, but he’s…” he fished for a word, “…very straight-forward. You don’t exactly have to be an alien trickster god to put one over on him.”
“And the Big Guy?” Stark demanded. “He’d make road pizza out of anyone trying to pull a fast one on him.”
Steve briefly glanced around the conference room; it seemed that Dr. Banner had wisely removed himself from the area at the first signs of a heated argument. “That one’s even easier,” he pointed out. “The Hulk can’t cope with any problem that can’t be solved by smashing it. With anything requiring delicate work or complex thought, he’s useless. Not to mention the effort that Dr. Banner has to maintain to keep from changing at the wrong time.”
“Well, sure,” Tony conceded, “but you can’t say the same about our resident secret-agent duo here; they don’t have any double-edged superpowers to be exploited.”
A brief flick of his gaze showed Barton staring at the floor, shoulders tense. He didn’t know the archer well yet, but he could guess at what was on Hawkeye’s mind: the way he’d been compromised by Loki. Stark wasn’t the only one who needed reassurance, but Steve doubted that Barton would accept any direct words of comfort from him just yet. “Range,” he said simply. “Hawkeye is an unbeatable shot at a distance, but that advantage disappears in close quarters. He’s good hand-to-hand, but there are others who are better.” He thought he saw Barton’s shoulders relax just a fraction.
“I doubt you’ll be able to come up with anything for Miss Romanov,” Stark dared. “I’ve known her for a while now, and she’s never shown any sign of being less than practically perfect in every way.”
Steve had to admit that, in the little experience he’d had with Natasha Romanov thus far, that description was pretty apt. “That just means that we’ve only seen her in situations that have played to her strengths,” he temporized. “It can take time to get to know a teammate well enough to learn where they have trouble. But everyone has something.”
To his surprise, he heard the muffled tap of heeled boots on the carpeted floor as Natasha crossed the room toward him. The expression she wore was even more surprising: on anyone else, Steve would have described it as uneasy, even anxious. She stopped a few feet away from him and looked up into his face. “You’re right,” she said simply, her voice soft. “Everyone has something. Even me.”
Steve shot a glare at Stark to keep him quiet, but apparently he was either too shocked or too curious to interrupt, for once. After a single deep breath, Natasha continued. “I’m telling you this because I understand the necessity. As team leader, you have to be able to anticipate our reactions, and… plan for all eventualities.” Steve could have sworn he saw her not glance at Barton.
At Steve’s nod, she went on. Her back was almost painfully straight as she spoke, and she locked her eyes on his. “I have a severe phobia,” she said. “It was instilled in me as a conditioning tool, by the people who made me what I am. It is specific enough that they could reasonably expect I wouldn't encounter it on missions, but it gave them an effective means of enforcing compliance during my training.” She dropped her gaze. “I’ll tell you what it is later. In private.”
“Of course,” he told her. “I know how much trust it took to tell me that. Thank you.”
“Deserve it.” She stepped around him and left the room.
Stark broke the stillness that descended on the room in her wake. “I guess that just leaves you, Cap,” he observed. “Are you gonna try to convince me that the great Captain America has some major weakness that leaves him as vulnerable as the rest of us mere mortals?” Steve caught the sharp edge in his voice, the trepidation nibbling at the fringes of his sarcasm.
He remained silent for a moment, studying Tony Stark, trying to come to a decision. Something in his face must have changed, because the challenge slowly melted from Stark’s expression, leaving a more serious countenance behind. “You want to know what my vulnerability is?” he asked quietly. Steve felt, more than saw, the three remaining pairs of eyes in the room focus on him; Barton looked up at him from his perch on the edge of the conference table. The Doctor gazed at him over the top of his disassembled screwdriver with eyes far older than they had any right to be. And Tony Stark simply nodded.
“It’s losing people,” Steve said. “Every time, it takes something out of me, something I don’t think I can ever get back. I’ve lost so many people.” Images flickered across his mind's eye: his mother's sick-bed. Blood on the laboratory floor. The train car on the snowy mountainside. Red lips and dark curls. “Everyone from my time. And then…” He didn’t need to say Coulson’s name. It was already hanging in the air, a palpable weight on the shoulders of the team. “I don’t know how many more times I can do it.”
He stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Stark, and grasped both shoulders of the Iron Man armor. “So you watch your ass out there, don’t take any more stupid chances than you need to, and follow orders when I pull you out of a fight. Got it?”
Stark’s Adam’s-apple twitched as he swallowed hard. Then something shifted in his eyes, and it was like the entire conversation hadn’t happened. “Right; you got it. You’re the boss, Cap.” He backed out of Steve’s grip, and then headed for the door. “I’m gonna go track down the rest of our merry band, before Fury gets here and only finds half a team to debrief. If I’m not back in ten minutes, check by the coffee machine in the break room. I think I saw donuts on the way in.” He was out the door before Steve could reply.
Barton stood up. “He’ll never come back if I don’t tag along,” he offered, jerking his thumb in the direction Stark had exited. “Besides, I have a pretty good guess where to find Natasha.”
Steve nodded. “Go ahead. If Director Fury comes to debrief us before you get back, I’ll… make something up.”
That prodded a laugh out of the archer. “That, I’d like to see. Gives me incentive to get back sooner.”
When Barton had gone, Steve turned to face the room’s only other occupant. The Doctor twisted his screwdriver back together and pointed it at the far end of the room. The projector screen against the wall whirred down to its extended position, and then retracted again. “Excellent!” the Doctor declared. “Good as new. Better than, in fact, since when it was new I got it second-hand. Sometimes it just needs a good cleaning-out on the insides; you’d be amazed the sort of muck that can build up in there.”
He strode over to Steve, pocketing the screwdriver, and clapped him on the arm. The Doctor’s expressive face drew down into solemn lines. “What you said before, about losing people,” he offered, “I understand.”
“You’ve…?” Steve started to ask, but trailed off; he already knew the answer.
The Doctor nodded. “Almost everyone. Home, friends, family; one way or another, gone.” He visibly shook himself, and put on another broad smile. “But that’s why you keep going! Always new places, new people, new adventures. Sometimes new screwdrivers! Not usually, though,” he amended. “Mostly you have to make do with a couple of paper clips, a bit of string, and a banana.”
Steve decided not to ask. He had a debriefing to focus on. Any time now, Director…
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Fandom(s): Avengers MCU, Doctor Who
Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Eleventh Doctor, Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton (more to come)
Pairings: None; Steve & Tony friendship, mentions of Steve/Peggy
Ratings: Teen
Warnings: Very mild angst
Spoilers:Any and all MCU movies through The Avengers (2012) are fair game, as is anything through Series 6 of NuWho (though there isn't much spoilery of the latter)
Chapters: 5 of 9
Series: Part One of Only Time
Word Count: 1809
Summary: Steve and Tony clash over Steve's decision to pull Tony out of the subway fight, leading to a moment of team bonding.
Beta: cygna_hime -- Thank you! <3
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
The minute they passed through the doorway of the briefing room, Stark ripped his helmet off and rounded on Steve; for an instant, Steve actually thought the helmet was going to come flying at him. “I’m either on this team or I’m not, Rogers,” he snarled. “We’re not out there playing Little League - don’t bring me into a fight and then bench me at the first sign of trouble.”
Steve felt his own hackles rising in response to the heat in Stark’s voice. “First sign of-? Are you insane? One shot from their weapons almost completely drained your arc reactor. Which, if I remember my briefing memos right, not only powers the suit, but keeps your heart beating. I made the right call for the mission, and if that hurts your ego, that’s not my problem.”
He felt the other Avengers take up alert postures, responding to Stark’s confrontational stance. “I single-handedly enforced world peace for six months before being tapped by the Avengers Initiative. If that’s not good enough for you, if you don’t think I can cut it out there, you just tell me now.”
An angry retort was halfway out of Steve’s mouth before he bit it back. There was something different about Stark’s attitude this time, something that hadn’t been there in the argument on the Helicarrier. He studied the other man: dark eyes defiant, chin thrust out as if inviting - no, expecting - a blow. Stark’s words echoed through his head; not good enough, can’t cut it. Steve felt his eyes widen as he realized what was going on. Is he afraid we’re going to reject him?
He’d seen it enough during the war. Injured soldiers fighting the orders to be shipped home, out of fear of losing the respect of the men they’d bonded with, bled with, on the battlefield. Why Tony Stark should feel that way eluded him, but that's where all the signs pointed. Though he could still feel the adrenaline coursing through his system, Steve’s anger abruptly drained out of him. “Of course you’re part of this team, Iron Man. This entire city would be a smoking crater if you hadn’t been here yesterday. But all of us have vulnerabilities - all of us. And today we ran into yours. Tomorrow it’ll be someone else’s turn. That’s part of the reason for having a team.”
Stark let out a derisive snort. “Sure, ‘all of us’ have weaknesses, he says to the guy on a team with a supersoldier and a godling.”
“You think Thor doesn’t have any weaknesses?” Steve let his incredulity show in his tone. “You saw the same footage that I did from the fight on the Helicarrier. Thor’s not stupid, but he’s…” he fished for a word, “…very straight-forward. You don’t exactly have to be an alien trickster god to put one over on him.”
“And the Big Guy?” Stark demanded. “He’d make road pizza out of anyone trying to pull a fast one on him.”
Steve briefly glanced around the conference room; it seemed that Dr. Banner had wisely removed himself from the area at the first signs of a heated argument. “That one’s even easier,” he pointed out. “The Hulk can’t cope with any problem that can’t be solved by smashing it. With anything requiring delicate work or complex thought, he’s useless. Not to mention the effort that Dr. Banner has to maintain to keep from changing at the wrong time.”
“Well, sure,” Tony conceded, “but you can’t say the same about our resident secret-agent duo here; they don’t have any double-edged superpowers to be exploited.”
A brief flick of his gaze showed Barton staring at the floor, shoulders tense. He didn’t know the archer well yet, but he could guess at what was on Hawkeye’s mind: the way he’d been compromised by Loki. Stark wasn’t the only one who needed reassurance, but Steve doubted that Barton would accept any direct words of comfort from him just yet. “Range,” he said simply. “Hawkeye is an unbeatable shot at a distance, but that advantage disappears in close quarters. He’s good hand-to-hand, but there are others who are better.” He thought he saw Barton’s shoulders relax just a fraction.
“I doubt you’ll be able to come up with anything for Miss Romanov,” Stark dared. “I’ve known her for a while now, and she’s never shown any sign of being less than practically perfect in every way.”
Steve had to admit that, in the little experience he’d had with Natasha Romanov thus far, that description was pretty apt. “That just means that we’ve only seen her in situations that have played to her strengths,” he temporized. “It can take time to get to know a teammate well enough to learn where they have trouble. But everyone has something.”
To his surprise, he heard the muffled tap of heeled boots on the carpeted floor as Natasha crossed the room toward him. The expression she wore was even more surprising: on anyone else, Steve would have described it as uneasy, even anxious. She stopped a few feet away from him and looked up into his face. “You’re right,” she said simply, her voice soft. “Everyone has something. Even me.”
Steve shot a glare at Stark to keep him quiet, but apparently he was either too shocked or too curious to interrupt, for once. After a single deep breath, Natasha continued. “I’m telling you this because I understand the necessity. As team leader, you have to be able to anticipate our reactions, and… plan for all eventualities.” Steve could have sworn he saw her not glance at Barton.
At Steve’s nod, she went on. Her back was almost painfully straight as she spoke, and she locked her eyes on his. “I have a severe phobia,” she said. “It was instilled in me as a conditioning tool, by the people who made me what I am. It is specific enough that they could reasonably expect I wouldn't encounter it on missions, but it gave them an effective means of enforcing compliance during my training.” She dropped her gaze. “I’ll tell you what it is later. In private.”
“Of course,” he told her. “I know how much trust it took to tell me that. Thank you.”
“Deserve it.” She stepped around him and left the room.
Stark broke the stillness that descended on the room in her wake. “I guess that just leaves you, Cap,” he observed. “Are you gonna try to convince me that the great Captain America has some major weakness that leaves him as vulnerable as the rest of us mere mortals?” Steve caught the sharp edge in his voice, the trepidation nibbling at the fringes of his sarcasm.
He remained silent for a moment, studying Tony Stark, trying to come to a decision. Something in his face must have changed, because the challenge slowly melted from Stark’s expression, leaving a more serious countenance behind. “You want to know what my vulnerability is?” he asked quietly. Steve felt, more than saw, the three remaining pairs of eyes in the room focus on him; Barton looked up at him from his perch on the edge of the conference table. The Doctor gazed at him over the top of his disassembled screwdriver with eyes far older than they had any right to be. And Tony Stark simply nodded.
“It’s losing people,” Steve said. “Every time, it takes something out of me, something I don’t think I can ever get back. I’ve lost so many people.” Images flickered across his mind's eye: his mother's sick-bed. Blood on the laboratory floor. The train car on the snowy mountainside. Red lips and dark curls. “Everyone from my time. And then…” He didn’t need to say Coulson’s name. It was already hanging in the air, a palpable weight on the shoulders of the team. “I don’t know how many more times I can do it.”
He stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Stark, and grasped both shoulders of the Iron Man armor. “So you watch your ass out there, don’t take any more stupid chances than you need to, and follow orders when I pull you out of a fight. Got it?”
Stark’s Adam’s-apple twitched as he swallowed hard. Then something shifted in his eyes, and it was like the entire conversation hadn’t happened. “Right; you got it. You’re the boss, Cap.” He backed out of Steve’s grip, and then headed for the door. “I’m gonna go track down the rest of our merry band, before Fury gets here and only finds half a team to debrief. If I’m not back in ten minutes, check by the coffee machine in the break room. I think I saw donuts on the way in.” He was out the door before Steve could reply.
Barton stood up. “He’ll never come back if I don’t tag along,” he offered, jerking his thumb in the direction Stark had exited. “Besides, I have a pretty good guess where to find Natasha.”
Steve nodded. “Go ahead. If Director Fury comes to debrief us before you get back, I’ll… make something up.”
That prodded a laugh out of the archer. “That, I’d like to see. Gives me incentive to get back sooner.”
When Barton had gone, Steve turned to face the room’s only other occupant. The Doctor twisted his screwdriver back together and pointed it at the far end of the room. The projector screen against the wall whirred down to its extended position, and then retracted again. “Excellent!” the Doctor declared. “Good as new. Better than, in fact, since when it was new I got it second-hand. Sometimes it just needs a good cleaning-out on the insides; you’d be amazed the sort of muck that can build up in there.”
He strode over to Steve, pocketing the screwdriver, and clapped him on the arm. The Doctor’s expressive face drew down into solemn lines. “What you said before, about losing people,” he offered, “I understand.”
“You’ve…?” Steve started to ask, but trailed off; he already knew the answer.
The Doctor nodded. “Almost everyone. Home, friends, family; one way or another, gone.” He visibly shook himself, and put on another broad smile. “But that’s why you keep going! Always new places, new people, new adventures. Sometimes new screwdrivers! Not usually, though,” he amended. “Mostly you have to make do with a couple of paper clips, a bit of string, and a banana.”
Steve decided not to ask. He had a debriefing to focus on. Any time now, Director…
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8