(fic) What You Have Tamed 1/2
What You Have Tamed 1/2
By tsukinofaerii
Beta: rum_and_cookies
Rating: SNAP.
Warnings: Consent Issues, thy name is This Fic. Sexual Content, Violence, Potentially Disturbing Content, Language, Rape/Non-Con, Torture.
Spoilers: Very minor for Civil War.
Series: Marvel 616
Pairings: Steve/Tony
Summary: Kink Meme Request: Semi mirror!verse fic. Tony gets pulled into another universe where Steve's side won Civil War, Tony died, and Steve took control of the government. By the time they get 616!Tony back, he's slightly broken and convinced that Steve owns him and can't make any decision without Steve. And gained the 'distressing' habit of offering his body to Steve and waking him up with blow jobs. (Complete short story)
This story is a work of transformative fiction, such being defined as a work which incorporates characters and situations which have been created by other authors/artists. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit is being made from the creation or dissemination of this work. Marvel and all its characters are owned by God Knows Who. They are used with respect and admiration for the work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This was first posted to the Marvel Kink Meme. There's some new scenes (beginning and ending) and it's been cleaned up a bit. Title comes from the quote, "You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed."
***
"Damn it!"
Tony rubs his head and blinks to focus his eyes around the light spots that the explosion gifted him with. Of course testing the scope of an Omega-level mutant would cause something to detonate spectacularly. In retrospect, he feels silly for not having expected it. Next time he and Reed even attempt to test Franklin, there's going to be some precautions in place. A few meters of radiation shielding will be a good start.
Clearing his vision doesn't do much to help. It looks like he's in his lab in the Tower sub-basement, but the lights are on the lowest setting possible. They'd probably been triggered by his movements. At least, his lab has motion-activated lights; he assumes that any copies of it would be the same. A thin layer of grime under his hand suggests that it hasn't been used in a while. Nothing else gives him any clues about where-or when-he's been transported to.
Extremis helpfully lets him know that his arrival triggered a silent alarm and security forces will arrive in three-point-two-eight seconds.
Wonderful.
Exactly three-point-two-eight seconds later, the door slides open and dark-clad troops trot in. The lights are still too low to make out details, but they look a lot more professional than the high-end forces he usually employs. Tony's been a hero long enough to recognize extensive training when it points a gun at him. He levers himself to his feet, rubbing the bruises he'd gotten when he fell.
"It's a really, really long story," he offers, trying to ignore the guns pointed at him. Move slow, act normal and he might not end up as Swiss cheese. "I'll go voluntarily, but I need to speak to Captain America or Reed Richards. Hell, or even Tony Stark." If he can't even explain things to an alternate version of himself, then he really is well and truly screwed.
"Stark is dead," someone says near the back. Even in the dark room, Tony can see the troops straighten, taking on an extra sharp professional aura. "You'll have to settle for me."
"Sir!" One of the men near the front looks torn between keeping his eye on Tony and turning to salute the person coming up from behind. Tony won, which somehow fails to make him feel special. "He said he'd come voluntarily, if he can-"
"I heard him, Lieutenant. Let's see what we've caught. Lights." High-powered florescent light flood the room, nearly blinding Tony after he'd had time to adjust to the lower levels. He shields his eyes and squints, then drops his hand when he realizes who's in front of him.
Even half-blind, half-dead and completely in a different universe, Tony would know Steve Rogers.
The soldiers-and they're definitely soldiers, American Army if Tony knows anything at all-are too professional to gasp, but he can hear them shuffle in surprise. That makes sense, if he's dead here. "Steve," Tony sighs in relief. "Thank god you're-"
Tony doesn't even see the punch coming.
Dusty tools scatter everywhere as Tony falls backwards, rolling over the work table behind him. He keeps rolling, landing on his feet when he hits the edge and backing away. Pain shoots down his jaw where the punch landed, but the blow hadn't actually been that strong. It doesn't feel broken. If Steve really wanted to, he could have shattered it.
"Skrull!" Steve shoves the table aside, advancing. "You think you'll use his face to disarm me? Maybe rally the pro-Registration side and start the war back up? Not in my America!"
"Cap, what the hell?" Tony keeps backing away, until he bumps up against a wall. "It's me- what do you mean, war? Registration?" Does he mean the SHRA? They haven't even talked about that yet; Tony knows it's going to go badly and he'd been hoping to put it off. They still have months before it becomes unavoidable, anyway.
Another punch rocks Tony into the wall, but there's nowhere left to retreat. "Cap," he gasps, spitting out blood and raising his eyes to Steve's. The face behind the cowl is twisted in barely contained rage, bordering on bestial. "I swear, I'm Tony Stark. I'll prove it any way you want."
"You'll get your chance." Steve gestures the soldiers forward, and Tony does his best to stand up without wobbling while cuffs are slapped on his wrists. At least they've cuffed him in front; it's easier to balance and just slightly less demeaning. "Check him with the Skrull detector. If he's clean, run a DNA comparison."
"Yes, sir, General Rogers, sir!"
***
Captivity isn't too bad. For one, it's not really a cell Tony's locked in. They'd just cleared out one of the better offices, which means there's carpet and a window. When he looks outside, New York still looks like New York, which is reassuring in a way. If some sort of apocalypse struck this world, Tony would expect New York to be the first place to be destroyed. It's quiet for mid-afternoon, and there's more American flags in evidence than usual, but the lack of destruction is definitely a good sign.
The soldiers who guard Tony don't really seem to know what to do with him. They refuse to speak, but when he asks for water some is brought in a paper cup (purified and undrugged, according to Extremis analysis). A pair of doctors show up to take a swab of his mouth and then he's left alone. He connects to the security cameras, but all it shows is what he expects to see: soldiers, some scientists-likely working on his DNA sample-and a few office-types working at computers. What he doesn't see are any Stark International logos, and the Penthouse systems have been hidden behind a series of firewalls he's not familiar with. Tony doesn't doubt for a second that he can let himself in, but after tinkering with it for a few moments he lets it go. There's no telling his status, and breaking through network security isn't a way to build trust.
If anyone other than Steve were in charge, including himself, Tony would already be planning to blow something up and escape. But it's Steve, and nothing in Tony is capable of believing for a moment that Steve will really hurt him. The DNA will prove his identity and he'll go from there. Tony Stark might be dead, but Steve hadn't said anything about Reed Richards, and Reed is the one who put him in this position.
Tony's thoughts are interrupted when the door swings open. He doesn't move from where he's leaning against a wall, other than to lift his eyes to the towering figure in blue leather that's framed by the door. There's no sign of the guards that had been there a moment ago, but he doesn't really need guards. Steve is more than capable of bringing him down if needed. His cowl is off; without it he looks more like Steve and less like someone who'd attacked him not three hours past.
The door closes with a barely audible click, leaving them alone. "How are you alive?" Steve's voice is shaky, but Tony has to be impressed by the way he doesn't let it stop him. He steps forward to kneel at Tony's feet. This close, there's no missing the sheen of tears in his eyes. "I saw you die. Your skull was crushed. I saw it. How?" It almost seems as though he might wait for an answer, but Tony doesn't have time to breathe even a word before Steve crumbles, falling forward into Tony's arms like he'd been shoved. "No, I don't care-you're back, you're back."
Thinking at least it was quick has to be the most depressing thought Tony's had all day. Dying doesn't worry him so much as the mess he'll leave behind. Previously, he never would have expected Steve might be part of that.
"I..." Tony rubs Steve's back, keeping mind of the scales of his armor. He feels horrible, but he can't stay here. Stark International alone needs him. Maybe no one else does, but SI has too many patents that the government would love to get their hands on for him to abandon it, no matter how guilty he feels. "I don't know what happened here, but I'm not your Tony. I'm from-"
"I don't care." Steve's hands dig into his coat, gripping it tight. "I don't care where you came from. I just... I missed you. God, I missed you."
There's dampness against Tony's neck, and it takes him a moment to realize that Steve's crying. "I have to get back home." As soon as he says it, he feels like the biggest ass to ever walk the planet.
"No." The word is so quiet, Tony almost misses it.
"Steve, I have to-"
"I said no." Tony barely has any warning at all before Steve's grip moves to his wrists, pinning them behind him with one hand. His grip is gentle, but Steve's strong enough that Tony's panicked tug doesn't even loosen it. Tears still stream down Steve's cheeks, but he's smiling, a fond little grin that sends chills down Tony's spine. "No. I won't lose you again. I fixed America for you. No need for Registration. No politicians making you do the wrong thing. No SHIELD to enforce unconstitutional laws. No Congress to pass them. All for you."
It doesn't feel real, even when Steve reaches behind him and pulls out a syringe, thumbing off the cap. He tries to kick him, but Steve just shifts his weight casually to pin his legs. "No-no, Cap, you can't do this-I'm not your Tony!"
"You will be." The syringe plunges down into his thigh, and immediately Tony begins to feel dizzy. As the world fades away, the last thing he sees is Steve stroking the hair back from his face. "I'll take care of you."
***
Reed clucks around the machine sitting in the middle of the floor, busily doing something complicated that involves dials and random mumbled numbers. It looks almost like a microwave, if that microwave happened to be four feet tall and contained a whole keyboard and a viewing screen.
It seems like every time Steve sees Reed at work, he ends up confused. The rest of the Avengers agree, so he doesn't feel entirely alone. Tony's the only person able to translate the man's mutterings into English, and Tony's been missing since the accident in the lab a week prior. All Steve had been able to make out of the explanation is that some sort of dimensional rift had been involved, and that Tony is probably only in a neighboring reality, which means that he should be safe. Then the explanation had deteriorated into equations and probably meaningful gestures that left Steve nodding along until Sue had taken pity and offered him cocoa.
God, he misses Tony.
They've gathered in Tony's lab because that had been where the accident took place. Reed thinks it might make it easier to find the right reality, and Steve isn't going to argue with anything that might raise their chances up getting Tony back. Logan and Luke linger back towards the door, guarding it against both intruders and the five-point-six percent chance of dinosaurs Reed predicts accidentally retrieving instead.
"It's ready," Reed finally announces, standing up straight and bringing most of his limbs back into their usual locations. "Are we ready?"
Luke cracks his knuckles with a grin. "Bring on the dinos." Wolverine just unsheathes his claws and manages to look bored.
It's probably the best they're going to get. Steve nods to Reed. "Let's get Tony back."
After all the fixing, tinkering and adjusting Reed had done, Steve's surprised that turning on the machine only takes pressing a button. The machine hums and, like all good super-technological devices, starts glowing green. Reed stays close, watching the tiny monitor fixedly, so it probably isn't radioactive. At least, Steve hopes so. Overhead, something that he can only describe as a tear starts appearing, inching steadily wider. He fidgets silently, waiting for Tony-or possibly a T-Rex-to come through.
"A-hah!" Reed shouts, smacking a small green button exultantly. "There he is!"
The hum hits a fever pitch and then, without fanfare, Tony drops to the center of the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Tony stays on his back, staring up uncomprehendingly as the rip mends itself neatly. He's dressed in a set of pale blue drawstring pants and absolutely nothing else. They ride low enough on his hips that it's obvious he's not even wearing underwear. Steve swallows and tries to think about more important things, like how pale he is, or the way his hair feathers over his forehead. It had been cut much shorter a week ago.
How long has he been gone?
"What, no triceratops?" Luke complains loudly. "Man, I feel cheated."
Tile slaps against skin as Tony scrambles to his feet, head swiveling towards Luke's voice. When he sees Steve he goes still, still half-crouched, blue eyes wide with something that makes Steve squirm uncomfortably.
"Sorry about that," Reed starts apologetically. "Franklin was a little over-excited, and-"
Tony doesn't even notice him. With a small moan, he launches himself past Reed and throws himself at Steve's feet. Steve tries to back away, but Tony's arms lock around his legs with a death grip. He rubs his cheek against Steve's chest, not seeming to mind the chain mail.
"I missed you!"
Behind them, Logan starts laughing.
Steve tries again to free himself, but Tony's grip is so strong he'd have to hurt him to do it. "What are you-"
"Did you come home early?" Steve's uniform leaves red scrapes on Tony's cheek as he looks upward to meet Steve's eyes, but Tony doesn't notice. He's too busy gazing at Steve adoringly. "I was good. I ate what Peter fed me and I completed the plans for the lunar defense system..." When Steve can only gape at him in horror, the worship in Tony's eyes fades to a worried frown. "Master?"
Logan finally seems to realize the seriousness of the situation and stops laughing. "Stark, stop screwing around."
No one says anything while Tony peeks around Steve like a frightened child, staring at Wolverine for a long second before hiding his face in Steve's stomach. Steve looks back and forth between Tony and Reed, whose normal cheer has been replaced with a gravity that makes Steve go cold inside.
Reed meets Steve's eyes across the room. "I think something is very wrong," he says quietly.
Luke snorts. "No shit, ya think?"
***One Month Later***
The movement of the bed wakes Steve, gently pulling him from the doze he'd been drifting in. Blearily, his eyes crack open, taking in the dawn-grayed bedroom, with its white walls, blue sheets and Tony. It feels like he just barely drifted off, but that can be explained by the nightmares. Ever since they got Tony back...
God, he just hopes they find some way to fix him. He doesn't know how much longer he can stand any of it. There's no other way though. Tony needs him. Tony won't even eat without Steve's order. Tony...
Tony just nuzzled his thigh.
Steve's eyes pop open just as Tony's lips settle around the head of his dick. A shudder wracks through his spine as that talented tongue slides around him. Desperately, Steve tries to lift the man off of him, but Tony whines high in his throat and stretches for it, fingers digging into Steve's thighs.
"Please," he whimpers, rolling his eyes in a way that resembles nothing so much as a heartbroken puppy. Knots twist in Steve's stomach at what's happened to his best friend. "Did- Did I make you angry? Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, just let me..."
He lets go, falling back to the pillows as Tony surges forward, as if afraid Steve will stop him again. Tony's mouth is hot and wet, practiced at its art, and if Steve closes his eyes he can almost forget that this isn't really his best friend. Old fantasies that he's kept tucked away rise to the surface of his mind, fueled by the certain knowledge of what it feels like to have Tony's hands and mouth and body wrapped around him.
Stamina is a curse right now. It takes Tony forever to bring him off with tongue and hands alone. Steve knows he'd use his body, but they'd spent a week laying down the rules against that. He seems to enjoy the work, even so, humming as his jaw stretches. Steve bites back his groan as his orgasm finally shoots through him. His head pounds back into the pillow to keep from thrusting up into the soft heat of Tony's mouth. Just because Tony doesn't mind doesn't mean Steve's going to do it.
Tony hums in pleasure and suckles at the head, working out every drop with his tongue. When there's nothing left, he pillows his head on Steve's hip, looking up at him with a lazy smile.
"Good morning, Mast-" He catches himself with a guilty look, but it doesn't last very long. "Steve."
Super villains aren't strong enough to keep from smiling back when Tony looks so content. Steve cards his fingers through Tony's dark hair and tries not to think about how nice it is when Tony leans into the touch. "Good morning. Did I leave the door unlocked?"
The smile vanishes. Tony lowers his eyes, flushing. "Not exactly... I picked the lock."
Picked the lock. Of course.
Steve sighs. He can tell Tony not to do that, but the small chance that it might stop a repeat performance isn't worth having to talk Tony out of the bathroom. "I'll have to install a new lock then, huh? Let's just... go get breakfast."
Tony grins. For the first time this morning, he actually looks like himself, cocky and self-assured. "Breakfast is overrated." Then the look fades back into the hesitance Steve is learning to hate. "Unless you want me to eat?"
Another piece of Steve's heart chips away. "No, just coffee's fine."
***
Dressing doesn't take long; after Tony's woken him up he's surprisingly easy to talk into clothing, though he asks Steve's opinion on everything. Steve tries to pick things he thinks Tony would have worn before, but he's never paid much attention to clothing and half of the designer labels in Tony's closet he can't even pronounce. His own choice of jeans and a button up shirt meet with Tony's approval, or at least no indication that he disapproves, which these days is close enough.
The kitchen is disturbingly silent, even though there Peter and Logan are there. A month ago, before the accident, just Peter could have kept it lively, but lately the whole penthouse feels like the long-term care wing of a hospital. No one makes much noise any more, and everyone avoids it as much as they can. Except for Steve. He can't leave Tony alone for long during the day, and taking him out in public is out of the question.
Steve pours himself a bowl of cereal while Tony gets his coffee, and it's another slice of normalcy that almost makes Steve relax. But then he sits at the table and Tony takes the floor at his side, resting his cheek against Steve's thigh, and the illusion is snatched away.
Logan glares at them, then picks up his plate of bacon and eggs and stalks away without a word. Peter's head swivels back and forth between Steve and Logan's back, spoon clinking against the side of his cereal bowl nervously. "Logan..." Peter starts, fidgeting. Wolverine ignores him, so Peter turns back to Steve with a cheerful, if forced, grin. "You know how he is. Grumpy Bear! Except not so blue. And with claws. Actually, he's not really like Grumpy Bear at all because Grumpy Bear would let you hug him sometimes and the last person who hugged Logan died and-"
"It's okay, Peter." Wolverine's attitude is just another thing to deal with.
The spoon picks up speed, almost vibrating against the thin glass. "... He thinks you're not trying hard enough with... you know."
Anger burns in Steve's chest, tempting sharp words, but he feels Tony shift away slightly and he tamps it down. It doesn't vanish, but Steve's learning control. Little things have big effects, and the last time he'd lost his temper Tony had hid for a whole day. "He'll change his mind."
Peter stares at him like he's turned green, and who can blame him? Logan changing his mind about anything is as likely as Nick Fury prancing through a field of daisies. Technically, it's happened before, but it's not likely to again, and mentioning it usually results in death threats.
Silence reigns again as Peter returns to stuffing his face with Lucky Charms and Tony slowly relaxes into Steve again, sipping his coffee. Steve catches himself smoothing back Tony's hair and almost stops, but the hopeful look Tony gives him tears through his objections like wet paper. Demeaning or not, if it makes Tony feel better...
"Oh!" The table rocks as Peter smacks it. "I forgot to tell you! Jarvis is coming!" He completely misses Steve's grimace and cut-throat motions, because he keeps babbling. "He says that he doesn't trust any of us to clean the Tower by ourselves and to remind everyone that he'll know if there's any broken dishes. How does he do that anyway? Is it some sort of secret super power or-"
Tony's choked-off noise of pain finally shuts Peter up. He shoves his face into Steve's hip, shaking his head. "Jarvis can't come to visit. He's dead."
Steve glares across the table and Peter hunches his shoulders, sinking down into his chair guiltily. "Sorry. I forgot."
Most of Steve's focus is on rubbing Tony's shaking shoulders, but he saves some time for scowling across the table. "He's not dead, Tony, that was the other place, remember? He's just visiting with Pepper." The shaking doesn't stop. If anything, Tony looks even smaller and more pathetic. He still hasn't regained the weight he'd lost while he was away, and his tan is faded from so long indoors. It makes him look fragile, even though he's probably the strongest person Steve knows.
He wishes he'd told Tony that before. "Look, you don't have to see him. You can work in your lab while he's here, okay?"
"I can?"
"You can." Jarvis had been kind enough to move out when they'd figured out why seeing him caused Tony so much trouble. None of them had thought it would be for long, but a month had passed without any real change. "And I'll talk to Reed again. Will that be okay?"
For a second, Steve thinks Tony's going to refuse, but he nods slowly. The lab is the one place Tony can handle by himself. Maybe it's because Steve doesn't know tech well. Whatever the reason, it's a good place to leave him for a little while.
Hopefully, Reed will have an idea. He's had a month, and Steve is at the end of his rope.
***
"It's definitely Tony." Reed looks pleased with himself as he continues to type in commands to the computer behind his back. "Everything matches up with what we have on file, even down to his brainwaves. He's a few years older, but other than that he's in perfect health. No injuries. Not even any old injuries. Extremis makes it hard to tell, but I'd estimate that he hasn't been in a fight in at least two years."
No physical abuse, at least, but that hasn't really been in doubt. "Can you tell me something new?" Steve shifts forward in his chair, sneakers squeaking against the tile floor. He's been there for five minutes, and the walk had taken ten. That's fifteen minutes away from Tony, forty-five minutes until he has to be back to make him eat lunch. "How do we fix him?"
The typing stops. Reed's head turns all the way around so he's looking at the enormous screen behind him rather than at Steve. "I don't think we can."
Steve's stomach lurches. The world might have dropped out from under his feet, but there hasn't been much world to lose for a month. He grips the arms of his cheap office chair, not letting up even when the metal dents under his fingers. "What do you mean?" His voice shakes. "He can't stay like this forever. We have to fix him."
Reed still doesn't turn around, but the typing starts again, much slower. Diagrams appear on the screen, detailing a human body and three points on it-the base of the skull, the jaw, and the small of the back. The points rotate and enlarge into exploded diagrams. "I studied the chips they implanted. They're years ahead of anything we have now, which I rather expected since he said it was 2013 there. The one in his jawbone is a GPS tracker, which is fairly useless since we don't have the codes for it. I can take it out at any time-"
"Reed!"
The scientist's shoulders slump. "The other two are linked to Extremis," he explains reluctantly. "Tony must have made them, or someone who knows the Extremis system had. I don't know anything about it-you'll need an expert to be sure, but it looks like the Extremis has adapted to them. They're... entwined, for lack of a better word. If we take them out, Extremis will fail and... He'll die."
The chair arms cracked under Steve's hands. He can't be sure which is worse; that Tony will die, or that he did it to himself to some extent. "What did I... What do they do?"
A few taps of the keyboard and the computer focus in on the chip in Tony's head. Lists of features and components in tongue-twisting technical jargon scroll by so quickly that Steve's eyes hurt. "As you can see, this one affects his long and short term memory. He'll have a hard time accepting the difference between the past and the present, which explains why he doesn't understand where he is."
Steve didn't see, but he nodded along, figuring that anything he could understand would be better than nothing at all.
Reed continued blithely, not even noticing Steve's nod. "I could be mistaken, but it appears as though it may take six, perhaps seven months for contradictory information to be processed and accepted. His captors-the General-most likely did it to keep him confused, but it affects his learning abilities as well. He simply doesn't store experiences the same way any more."
And that would explain why Tony never believes that Jarvis is alive, no matter how many times he sees him. "The other one?" Reed perks up, and Steve hopes that's a good sign.
"Actually, that one's rather fascinating. It balances out the negative effects of the first chip to some extent. No use having a slave who can't learn, I suppose." Reed's head finishes turning so he can smile brightly at Steve, leaving his neck twisted like a washrag. He doesn't seem to notice Steve's glower at the term slave. "It's specifically for positive reinforcement. Taps directly into the central nervous system, actually. Emotions are amplified to a physical level. When he feels emotionally good-from praise, for example-he quite physically feels good, and vice versa for unpleasant stimuli. Absolutely ingenious design-it by-passes the conscious mind almost entirely, so he learns mostly from sensory information."
It's not Reed's fault he gets carried away. Steve tries to remember that before he breaks more of the chair. "That doesn't explain why he's... like this. Following orders. Dependent." And trying to convince Steve to sleep with him, and waking him up with oral sex, and... "What's causing that? Can we fix it?" That's all he wants. They can deal with the rest of it, but he needs Tony to be strong again. To be Tony again.
"Perhaps Professor Xavier or Emma could-"
"No. He'd hate that. What else?"
"A good psychologist." When Steve opens his mouth to argue, Reed holds up a hand for silence. "He was a prisoner for four years. There's no technical reason for his condition, so I can only theorize that it's psychological. With help, Tony might be able to regain independent function, but that's completely out of my field of expertise." Pity rises in Reed's eyes. "I'll keep studying it, but science can't fix everything."
***
Steve doesn't bother checking the penthouse when he arrives back at the Tower, heading straight to Tony's basement lab instead. Reed had given him some printouts, which he'd tucked into a folder. Most of them are the specifications for the chips implanted in Tony. If Tony had designed them, it stands to reason that he might know how to remove them. But one of them is a list of psychologists that specialize in superheroes. He hadn't even known they existed.
If the labs are barred to visitors, there's no sign of it on the plain metal doors. The identity scans approve him with a cheerful chirp, followed by the click of the doors sliding open.
Tony's back is the first thing he sees, hunched over one of the work tables. What had been a respectable white button-down is stained in at least three places that Steve can see. The slacks are probably just as bad, though the probable damage isn't visible from behind. He'd forgotten to tell Tony to change before leaving for the Baxter Building. One more outfit ruined. It's not much comfort that Tony's been destroying clothes since long before he'd even met Steve.
"I'm back."
Some sort of tool too tiny to be identified drops to the table as Tony whirls around. With the goggles on Steve can't read his expression, but his body language is tense and hunched in, more than enough to tell Steve he's upset. "Mast- Steve, I didn't hear you come in." Tony lifts the goggles off his head and lets them dangle from his wrist. Everything about him is tense, ready to jump at the tiniest reason.
Moments like this make Steve wonder what kind of person the other Captain America is-bad enough that he turned Tony into this, but the way Tony's attention is so constant makes Steve think jealousy. Memories of the times he's envied the attention Tony gives his work makes self-disgust squirm in his gut. "It's okay. I like watching you work." At Tony's doubtful expression, he smiles. It's more fake than the red hair on the girl Tony had taken out for New Year's Eve, but it does the trick and takes the hunted look from his eyes. "We need to talk about something. Something technical," he adds quickly, before Tony's good mood can fade. Conversations with Tony are minefields, and a month isn't enough time to learn where the bombs are. A lifetime might not be enough. "Reed told me some things I need you to explain."
Tony's eyes dart to the folder under Steve's arm, then back at his project. The struggle only lasts a second before he drops the goggles to the bench and looks up at Steve with a smile. "Yes, sir."
There's a faint flush to Tony's cheeks that could come from almost anything. It's familiar, though, and distracting enough that Steve doesn't notice the determination in Tony's stride right away. It takes three steps and a shirt button for Steve to figure it out. He's dreamed about having that expression turned on him. Now that it is, he would give anything to have Tony be able to give it to someone else.
What was it Reed had said about the third chip? Pleasant emotions equal pleasant sensations... Steve catches Tony's hands before he can undo another button. "Stop."
Tony freezes, flinching as if Steve had hit him.
Unpleasant emotions produce...
Steve's heart sinks to his sneakers. "You need to eat lunch first," he blurts out. The bewildered stare he gets in return is a thousand times better than the kicked-puppy look. Bullets hurt less than that look, and Steve knows what being shot is like. "We'll have lunch first," he repeats, like it might ease the rejection."
He feels like an absolute heel, like the lowliest scum on the bottom of some fourth-rate villain's shoe for not realizing what was wrong with Tony's reactions sooner. Reed hadn't said it straight up, but Steve's only experience with unpleasant stimuli is an experiment where scientists shocked the lab mice to teach them to avoid the food. Tony's never been exactly stable, but if that is what he's lived with for years...
Maybe it's not so surprising he broke.
While all this is going through Steve's head, Tony watches him through lowered eyelids. His hands tangle in Steve's shirt, but he's not trying to take it off anymore, at least. "Lunch?" he asked, already sounding resigned.
"Lunch," Steve agrees, and hopes Tony's forgotten about the other by the time they're done eating.
Onward
By tsukinofaerii
Beta: rum_and_cookies
Rating: SNAP.
Warnings: Consent Issues, thy name is This Fic. Sexual Content, Violence, Potentially Disturbing Content, Language, Rape/Non-Con, Torture.
Spoilers: Very minor for Civil War.
Series: Marvel 616
Pairings: Steve/Tony
Summary: Kink Meme Request: Semi mirror!verse fic. Tony gets pulled into another universe where Steve's side won Civil War, Tony died, and Steve took control of the government. By the time they get 616!Tony back, he's slightly broken and convinced that Steve owns him and can't make any decision without Steve. And gained the 'distressing' habit of offering his body to Steve and waking him up with blow jobs. (Complete short story)
This story is a work of transformative fiction, such being defined as a work which incorporates characters and situations which have been created by other authors/artists. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit is being made from the creation or dissemination of this work. Marvel and all its characters are owned by God Knows Who. They are used with respect and admiration for the work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This was first posted to the Marvel Kink Meme. There's some new scenes (beginning and ending) and it's been cleaned up a bit. Title comes from the quote, "You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed."
***
"Damn it!"
Tony rubs his head and blinks to focus his eyes around the light spots that the explosion gifted him with. Of course testing the scope of an Omega-level mutant would cause something to detonate spectacularly. In retrospect, he feels silly for not having expected it. Next time he and Reed even attempt to test Franklin, there's going to be some precautions in place. A few meters of radiation shielding will be a good start.
Clearing his vision doesn't do much to help. It looks like he's in his lab in the Tower sub-basement, but the lights are on the lowest setting possible. They'd probably been triggered by his movements. At least, his lab has motion-activated lights; he assumes that any copies of it would be the same. A thin layer of grime under his hand suggests that it hasn't been used in a while. Nothing else gives him any clues about where-or when-he's been transported to.
Extremis helpfully lets him know that his arrival triggered a silent alarm and security forces will arrive in three-point-two-eight seconds.
Wonderful.
Exactly three-point-two-eight seconds later, the door slides open and dark-clad troops trot in. The lights are still too low to make out details, but they look a lot more professional than the high-end forces he usually employs. Tony's been a hero long enough to recognize extensive training when it points a gun at him. He levers himself to his feet, rubbing the bruises he'd gotten when he fell.
"It's a really, really long story," he offers, trying to ignore the guns pointed at him. Move slow, act normal and he might not end up as Swiss cheese. "I'll go voluntarily, but I need to speak to Captain America or Reed Richards. Hell, or even Tony Stark." If he can't even explain things to an alternate version of himself, then he really is well and truly screwed.
"Stark is dead," someone says near the back. Even in the dark room, Tony can see the troops straighten, taking on an extra sharp professional aura. "You'll have to settle for me."
"Sir!" One of the men near the front looks torn between keeping his eye on Tony and turning to salute the person coming up from behind. Tony won, which somehow fails to make him feel special. "He said he'd come voluntarily, if he can-"
"I heard him, Lieutenant. Let's see what we've caught. Lights." High-powered florescent light flood the room, nearly blinding Tony after he'd had time to adjust to the lower levels. He shields his eyes and squints, then drops his hand when he realizes who's in front of him.
Even half-blind, half-dead and completely in a different universe, Tony would know Steve Rogers.
The soldiers-and they're definitely soldiers, American Army if Tony knows anything at all-are too professional to gasp, but he can hear them shuffle in surprise. That makes sense, if he's dead here. "Steve," Tony sighs in relief. "Thank god you're-"
Tony doesn't even see the punch coming.
Dusty tools scatter everywhere as Tony falls backwards, rolling over the work table behind him. He keeps rolling, landing on his feet when he hits the edge and backing away. Pain shoots down his jaw where the punch landed, but the blow hadn't actually been that strong. It doesn't feel broken. If Steve really wanted to, he could have shattered it.
"Skrull!" Steve shoves the table aside, advancing. "You think you'll use his face to disarm me? Maybe rally the pro-Registration side and start the war back up? Not in my America!"
"Cap, what the hell?" Tony keeps backing away, until he bumps up against a wall. "It's me- what do you mean, war? Registration?" Does he mean the SHRA? They haven't even talked about that yet; Tony knows it's going to go badly and he'd been hoping to put it off. They still have months before it becomes unavoidable, anyway.
Another punch rocks Tony into the wall, but there's nowhere left to retreat. "Cap," he gasps, spitting out blood and raising his eyes to Steve's. The face behind the cowl is twisted in barely contained rage, bordering on bestial. "I swear, I'm Tony Stark. I'll prove it any way you want."
"You'll get your chance." Steve gestures the soldiers forward, and Tony does his best to stand up without wobbling while cuffs are slapped on his wrists. At least they've cuffed him in front; it's easier to balance and just slightly less demeaning. "Check him with the Skrull detector. If he's clean, run a DNA comparison."
"Yes, sir, General Rogers, sir!"
***
Captivity isn't too bad. For one, it's not really a cell Tony's locked in. They'd just cleared out one of the better offices, which means there's carpet and a window. When he looks outside, New York still looks like New York, which is reassuring in a way. If some sort of apocalypse struck this world, Tony would expect New York to be the first place to be destroyed. It's quiet for mid-afternoon, and there's more American flags in evidence than usual, but the lack of destruction is definitely a good sign.
The soldiers who guard Tony don't really seem to know what to do with him. They refuse to speak, but when he asks for water some is brought in a paper cup (purified and undrugged, according to Extremis analysis). A pair of doctors show up to take a swab of his mouth and then he's left alone. He connects to the security cameras, but all it shows is what he expects to see: soldiers, some scientists-likely working on his DNA sample-and a few office-types working at computers. What he doesn't see are any Stark International logos, and the Penthouse systems have been hidden behind a series of firewalls he's not familiar with. Tony doesn't doubt for a second that he can let himself in, but after tinkering with it for a few moments he lets it go. There's no telling his status, and breaking through network security isn't a way to build trust.
If anyone other than Steve were in charge, including himself, Tony would already be planning to blow something up and escape. But it's Steve, and nothing in Tony is capable of believing for a moment that Steve will really hurt him. The DNA will prove his identity and he'll go from there. Tony Stark might be dead, but Steve hadn't said anything about Reed Richards, and Reed is the one who put him in this position.
Tony's thoughts are interrupted when the door swings open. He doesn't move from where he's leaning against a wall, other than to lift his eyes to the towering figure in blue leather that's framed by the door. There's no sign of the guards that had been there a moment ago, but he doesn't really need guards. Steve is more than capable of bringing him down if needed. His cowl is off; without it he looks more like Steve and less like someone who'd attacked him not three hours past.
The door closes with a barely audible click, leaving them alone. "How are you alive?" Steve's voice is shaky, but Tony has to be impressed by the way he doesn't let it stop him. He steps forward to kneel at Tony's feet. This close, there's no missing the sheen of tears in his eyes. "I saw you die. Your skull was crushed. I saw it. How?" It almost seems as though he might wait for an answer, but Tony doesn't have time to breathe even a word before Steve crumbles, falling forward into Tony's arms like he'd been shoved. "No, I don't care-you're back, you're back."
Thinking at least it was quick has to be the most depressing thought Tony's had all day. Dying doesn't worry him so much as the mess he'll leave behind. Previously, he never would have expected Steve might be part of that.
"I..." Tony rubs Steve's back, keeping mind of the scales of his armor. He feels horrible, but he can't stay here. Stark International alone needs him. Maybe no one else does, but SI has too many patents that the government would love to get their hands on for him to abandon it, no matter how guilty he feels. "I don't know what happened here, but I'm not your Tony. I'm from-"
"I don't care." Steve's hands dig into his coat, gripping it tight. "I don't care where you came from. I just... I missed you. God, I missed you."
There's dampness against Tony's neck, and it takes him a moment to realize that Steve's crying. "I have to get back home." As soon as he says it, he feels like the biggest ass to ever walk the planet.
"No." The word is so quiet, Tony almost misses it.
"Steve, I have to-"
"I said no." Tony barely has any warning at all before Steve's grip moves to his wrists, pinning them behind him with one hand. His grip is gentle, but Steve's strong enough that Tony's panicked tug doesn't even loosen it. Tears still stream down Steve's cheeks, but he's smiling, a fond little grin that sends chills down Tony's spine. "No. I won't lose you again. I fixed America for you. No need for Registration. No politicians making you do the wrong thing. No SHIELD to enforce unconstitutional laws. No Congress to pass them. All for you."
It doesn't feel real, even when Steve reaches behind him and pulls out a syringe, thumbing off the cap. He tries to kick him, but Steve just shifts his weight casually to pin his legs. "No-no, Cap, you can't do this-I'm not your Tony!"
"You will be." The syringe plunges down into his thigh, and immediately Tony begins to feel dizzy. As the world fades away, the last thing he sees is Steve stroking the hair back from his face. "I'll take care of you."
***
Reed clucks around the machine sitting in the middle of the floor, busily doing something complicated that involves dials and random mumbled numbers. It looks almost like a microwave, if that microwave happened to be four feet tall and contained a whole keyboard and a viewing screen.
It seems like every time Steve sees Reed at work, he ends up confused. The rest of the Avengers agree, so he doesn't feel entirely alone. Tony's the only person able to translate the man's mutterings into English, and Tony's been missing since the accident in the lab a week prior. All Steve had been able to make out of the explanation is that some sort of dimensional rift had been involved, and that Tony is probably only in a neighboring reality, which means that he should be safe. Then the explanation had deteriorated into equations and probably meaningful gestures that left Steve nodding along until Sue had taken pity and offered him cocoa.
God, he misses Tony.
They've gathered in Tony's lab because that had been where the accident took place. Reed thinks it might make it easier to find the right reality, and Steve isn't going to argue with anything that might raise their chances up getting Tony back. Logan and Luke linger back towards the door, guarding it against both intruders and the five-point-six percent chance of dinosaurs Reed predicts accidentally retrieving instead.
"It's ready," Reed finally announces, standing up straight and bringing most of his limbs back into their usual locations. "Are we ready?"
Luke cracks his knuckles with a grin. "Bring on the dinos." Wolverine just unsheathes his claws and manages to look bored.
It's probably the best they're going to get. Steve nods to Reed. "Let's get Tony back."
After all the fixing, tinkering and adjusting Reed had done, Steve's surprised that turning on the machine only takes pressing a button. The machine hums and, like all good super-technological devices, starts glowing green. Reed stays close, watching the tiny monitor fixedly, so it probably isn't radioactive. At least, Steve hopes so. Overhead, something that he can only describe as a tear starts appearing, inching steadily wider. He fidgets silently, waiting for Tony-or possibly a T-Rex-to come through.
"A-hah!" Reed shouts, smacking a small green button exultantly. "There he is!"
The hum hits a fever pitch and then, without fanfare, Tony drops to the center of the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Tony stays on his back, staring up uncomprehendingly as the rip mends itself neatly. He's dressed in a set of pale blue drawstring pants and absolutely nothing else. They ride low enough on his hips that it's obvious he's not even wearing underwear. Steve swallows and tries to think about more important things, like how pale he is, or the way his hair feathers over his forehead. It had been cut much shorter a week ago.
How long has he been gone?
"What, no triceratops?" Luke complains loudly. "Man, I feel cheated."
Tile slaps against skin as Tony scrambles to his feet, head swiveling towards Luke's voice. When he sees Steve he goes still, still half-crouched, blue eyes wide with something that makes Steve squirm uncomfortably.
"Sorry about that," Reed starts apologetically. "Franklin was a little over-excited, and-"
Tony doesn't even notice him. With a small moan, he launches himself past Reed and throws himself at Steve's feet. Steve tries to back away, but Tony's arms lock around his legs with a death grip. He rubs his cheek against Steve's chest, not seeming to mind the chain mail.
"I missed you!"
Behind them, Logan starts laughing.
Steve tries again to free himself, but Tony's grip is so strong he'd have to hurt him to do it. "What are you-"
"Did you come home early?" Steve's uniform leaves red scrapes on Tony's cheek as he looks upward to meet Steve's eyes, but Tony doesn't notice. He's too busy gazing at Steve adoringly. "I was good. I ate what Peter fed me and I completed the plans for the lunar defense system..." When Steve can only gape at him in horror, the worship in Tony's eyes fades to a worried frown. "Master?"
Logan finally seems to realize the seriousness of the situation and stops laughing. "Stark, stop screwing around."
No one says anything while Tony peeks around Steve like a frightened child, staring at Wolverine for a long second before hiding his face in Steve's stomach. Steve looks back and forth between Tony and Reed, whose normal cheer has been replaced with a gravity that makes Steve go cold inside.
Reed meets Steve's eyes across the room. "I think something is very wrong," he says quietly.
Luke snorts. "No shit, ya think?"
***One Month Later***
The movement of the bed wakes Steve, gently pulling him from the doze he'd been drifting in. Blearily, his eyes crack open, taking in the dawn-grayed bedroom, with its white walls, blue sheets and Tony. It feels like he just barely drifted off, but that can be explained by the nightmares. Ever since they got Tony back...
God, he just hopes they find some way to fix him. He doesn't know how much longer he can stand any of it. There's no other way though. Tony needs him. Tony won't even eat without Steve's order. Tony...
Tony just nuzzled his thigh.
Steve's eyes pop open just as Tony's lips settle around the head of his dick. A shudder wracks through his spine as that talented tongue slides around him. Desperately, Steve tries to lift the man off of him, but Tony whines high in his throat and stretches for it, fingers digging into Steve's thighs.
"Please," he whimpers, rolling his eyes in a way that resembles nothing so much as a heartbroken puppy. Knots twist in Steve's stomach at what's happened to his best friend. "Did- Did I make you angry? Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, just let me..."
He lets go, falling back to the pillows as Tony surges forward, as if afraid Steve will stop him again. Tony's mouth is hot and wet, practiced at its art, and if Steve closes his eyes he can almost forget that this isn't really his best friend. Old fantasies that he's kept tucked away rise to the surface of his mind, fueled by the certain knowledge of what it feels like to have Tony's hands and mouth and body wrapped around him.
Stamina is a curse right now. It takes Tony forever to bring him off with tongue and hands alone. Steve knows he'd use his body, but they'd spent a week laying down the rules against that. He seems to enjoy the work, even so, humming as his jaw stretches. Steve bites back his groan as his orgasm finally shoots through him. His head pounds back into the pillow to keep from thrusting up into the soft heat of Tony's mouth. Just because Tony doesn't mind doesn't mean Steve's going to do it.
Tony hums in pleasure and suckles at the head, working out every drop with his tongue. When there's nothing left, he pillows his head on Steve's hip, looking up at him with a lazy smile.
"Good morning, Mast-" He catches himself with a guilty look, but it doesn't last very long. "Steve."
Super villains aren't strong enough to keep from smiling back when Tony looks so content. Steve cards his fingers through Tony's dark hair and tries not to think about how nice it is when Tony leans into the touch. "Good morning. Did I leave the door unlocked?"
The smile vanishes. Tony lowers his eyes, flushing. "Not exactly... I picked the lock."
Picked the lock. Of course.
Steve sighs. He can tell Tony not to do that, but the small chance that it might stop a repeat performance isn't worth having to talk Tony out of the bathroom. "I'll have to install a new lock then, huh? Let's just... go get breakfast."
Tony grins. For the first time this morning, he actually looks like himself, cocky and self-assured. "Breakfast is overrated." Then the look fades back into the hesitance Steve is learning to hate. "Unless you want me to eat?"
Another piece of Steve's heart chips away. "No, just coffee's fine."
***
Dressing doesn't take long; after Tony's woken him up he's surprisingly easy to talk into clothing, though he asks Steve's opinion on everything. Steve tries to pick things he thinks Tony would have worn before, but he's never paid much attention to clothing and half of the designer labels in Tony's closet he can't even pronounce. His own choice of jeans and a button up shirt meet with Tony's approval, or at least no indication that he disapproves, which these days is close enough.
The kitchen is disturbingly silent, even though there Peter and Logan are there. A month ago, before the accident, just Peter could have kept it lively, but lately the whole penthouse feels like the long-term care wing of a hospital. No one makes much noise any more, and everyone avoids it as much as they can. Except for Steve. He can't leave Tony alone for long during the day, and taking him out in public is out of the question.
Steve pours himself a bowl of cereal while Tony gets his coffee, and it's another slice of normalcy that almost makes Steve relax. But then he sits at the table and Tony takes the floor at his side, resting his cheek against Steve's thigh, and the illusion is snatched away.
Logan glares at them, then picks up his plate of bacon and eggs and stalks away without a word. Peter's head swivels back and forth between Steve and Logan's back, spoon clinking against the side of his cereal bowl nervously. "Logan..." Peter starts, fidgeting. Wolverine ignores him, so Peter turns back to Steve with a cheerful, if forced, grin. "You know how he is. Grumpy Bear! Except not so blue. And with claws. Actually, he's not really like Grumpy Bear at all because Grumpy Bear would let you hug him sometimes and the last person who hugged Logan died and-"
"It's okay, Peter." Wolverine's attitude is just another thing to deal with.
The spoon picks up speed, almost vibrating against the thin glass. "... He thinks you're not trying hard enough with... you know."
Anger burns in Steve's chest, tempting sharp words, but he feels Tony shift away slightly and he tamps it down. It doesn't vanish, but Steve's learning control. Little things have big effects, and the last time he'd lost his temper Tony had hid for a whole day. "He'll change his mind."
Peter stares at him like he's turned green, and who can blame him? Logan changing his mind about anything is as likely as Nick Fury prancing through a field of daisies. Technically, it's happened before, but it's not likely to again, and mentioning it usually results in death threats.
Silence reigns again as Peter returns to stuffing his face with Lucky Charms and Tony slowly relaxes into Steve again, sipping his coffee. Steve catches himself smoothing back Tony's hair and almost stops, but the hopeful look Tony gives him tears through his objections like wet paper. Demeaning or not, if it makes Tony feel better...
"Oh!" The table rocks as Peter smacks it. "I forgot to tell you! Jarvis is coming!" He completely misses Steve's grimace and cut-throat motions, because he keeps babbling. "He says that he doesn't trust any of us to clean the Tower by ourselves and to remind everyone that he'll know if there's any broken dishes. How does he do that anyway? Is it some sort of secret super power or-"
Tony's choked-off noise of pain finally shuts Peter up. He shoves his face into Steve's hip, shaking his head. "Jarvis can't come to visit. He's dead."
Steve glares across the table and Peter hunches his shoulders, sinking down into his chair guiltily. "Sorry. I forgot."
Most of Steve's focus is on rubbing Tony's shaking shoulders, but he saves some time for scowling across the table. "He's not dead, Tony, that was the other place, remember? He's just visiting with Pepper." The shaking doesn't stop. If anything, Tony looks even smaller and more pathetic. He still hasn't regained the weight he'd lost while he was away, and his tan is faded from so long indoors. It makes him look fragile, even though he's probably the strongest person Steve knows.
He wishes he'd told Tony that before. "Look, you don't have to see him. You can work in your lab while he's here, okay?"
"I can?"
"You can." Jarvis had been kind enough to move out when they'd figured out why seeing him caused Tony so much trouble. None of them had thought it would be for long, but a month had passed without any real change. "And I'll talk to Reed again. Will that be okay?"
For a second, Steve thinks Tony's going to refuse, but he nods slowly. The lab is the one place Tony can handle by himself. Maybe it's because Steve doesn't know tech well. Whatever the reason, it's a good place to leave him for a little while.
Hopefully, Reed will have an idea. He's had a month, and Steve is at the end of his rope.
***
"It's definitely Tony." Reed looks pleased with himself as he continues to type in commands to the computer behind his back. "Everything matches up with what we have on file, even down to his brainwaves. He's a few years older, but other than that he's in perfect health. No injuries. Not even any old injuries. Extremis makes it hard to tell, but I'd estimate that he hasn't been in a fight in at least two years."
No physical abuse, at least, but that hasn't really been in doubt. "Can you tell me something new?" Steve shifts forward in his chair, sneakers squeaking against the tile floor. He's been there for five minutes, and the walk had taken ten. That's fifteen minutes away from Tony, forty-five minutes until he has to be back to make him eat lunch. "How do we fix him?"
The typing stops. Reed's head turns all the way around so he's looking at the enormous screen behind him rather than at Steve. "I don't think we can."
Steve's stomach lurches. The world might have dropped out from under his feet, but there hasn't been much world to lose for a month. He grips the arms of his cheap office chair, not letting up even when the metal dents under his fingers. "What do you mean?" His voice shakes. "He can't stay like this forever. We have to fix him."
Reed still doesn't turn around, but the typing starts again, much slower. Diagrams appear on the screen, detailing a human body and three points on it-the base of the skull, the jaw, and the small of the back. The points rotate and enlarge into exploded diagrams. "I studied the chips they implanted. They're years ahead of anything we have now, which I rather expected since he said it was 2013 there. The one in his jawbone is a GPS tracker, which is fairly useless since we don't have the codes for it. I can take it out at any time-"
"Reed!"
The scientist's shoulders slump. "The other two are linked to Extremis," he explains reluctantly. "Tony must have made them, or someone who knows the Extremis system had. I don't know anything about it-you'll need an expert to be sure, but it looks like the Extremis has adapted to them. They're... entwined, for lack of a better word. If we take them out, Extremis will fail and... He'll die."
The chair arms cracked under Steve's hands. He can't be sure which is worse; that Tony will die, or that he did it to himself to some extent. "What did I... What do they do?"
A few taps of the keyboard and the computer focus in on the chip in Tony's head. Lists of features and components in tongue-twisting technical jargon scroll by so quickly that Steve's eyes hurt. "As you can see, this one affects his long and short term memory. He'll have a hard time accepting the difference between the past and the present, which explains why he doesn't understand where he is."
Steve didn't see, but he nodded along, figuring that anything he could understand would be better than nothing at all.
Reed continued blithely, not even noticing Steve's nod. "I could be mistaken, but it appears as though it may take six, perhaps seven months for contradictory information to be processed and accepted. His captors-the General-most likely did it to keep him confused, but it affects his learning abilities as well. He simply doesn't store experiences the same way any more."
And that would explain why Tony never believes that Jarvis is alive, no matter how many times he sees him. "The other one?" Reed perks up, and Steve hopes that's a good sign.
"Actually, that one's rather fascinating. It balances out the negative effects of the first chip to some extent. No use having a slave who can't learn, I suppose." Reed's head finishes turning so he can smile brightly at Steve, leaving his neck twisted like a washrag. He doesn't seem to notice Steve's glower at the term slave. "It's specifically for positive reinforcement. Taps directly into the central nervous system, actually. Emotions are amplified to a physical level. When he feels emotionally good-from praise, for example-he quite physically feels good, and vice versa for unpleasant stimuli. Absolutely ingenious design-it by-passes the conscious mind almost entirely, so he learns mostly from sensory information."
It's not Reed's fault he gets carried away. Steve tries to remember that before he breaks more of the chair. "That doesn't explain why he's... like this. Following orders. Dependent." And trying to convince Steve to sleep with him, and waking him up with oral sex, and... "What's causing that? Can we fix it?" That's all he wants. They can deal with the rest of it, but he needs Tony to be strong again. To be Tony again.
"Perhaps Professor Xavier or Emma could-"
"No. He'd hate that. What else?"
"A good psychologist." When Steve opens his mouth to argue, Reed holds up a hand for silence. "He was a prisoner for four years. There's no technical reason for his condition, so I can only theorize that it's psychological. With help, Tony might be able to regain independent function, but that's completely out of my field of expertise." Pity rises in Reed's eyes. "I'll keep studying it, but science can't fix everything."
***
Steve doesn't bother checking the penthouse when he arrives back at the Tower, heading straight to Tony's basement lab instead. Reed had given him some printouts, which he'd tucked into a folder. Most of them are the specifications for the chips implanted in Tony. If Tony had designed them, it stands to reason that he might know how to remove them. But one of them is a list of psychologists that specialize in superheroes. He hadn't even known they existed.
If the labs are barred to visitors, there's no sign of it on the plain metal doors. The identity scans approve him with a cheerful chirp, followed by the click of the doors sliding open.
Tony's back is the first thing he sees, hunched over one of the work tables. What had been a respectable white button-down is stained in at least three places that Steve can see. The slacks are probably just as bad, though the probable damage isn't visible from behind. He'd forgotten to tell Tony to change before leaving for the Baxter Building. One more outfit ruined. It's not much comfort that Tony's been destroying clothes since long before he'd even met Steve.
"I'm back."
Some sort of tool too tiny to be identified drops to the table as Tony whirls around. With the goggles on Steve can't read his expression, but his body language is tense and hunched in, more than enough to tell Steve he's upset. "Mast- Steve, I didn't hear you come in." Tony lifts the goggles off his head and lets them dangle from his wrist. Everything about him is tense, ready to jump at the tiniest reason.
Moments like this make Steve wonder what kind of person the other Captain America is-bad enough that he turned Tony into this, but the way Tony's attention is so constant makes Steve think jealousy. Memories of the times he's envied the attention Tony gives his work makes self-disgust squirm in his gut. "It's okay. I like watching you work." At Tony's doubtful expression, he smiles. It's more fake than the red hair on the girl Tony had taken out for New Year's Eve, but it does the trick and takes the hunted look from his eyes. "We need to talk about something. Something technical," he adds quickly, before Tony's good mood can fade. Conversations with Tony are minefields, and a month isn't enough time to learn where the bombs are. A lifetime might not be enough. "Reed told me some things I need you to explain."
Tony's eyes dart to the folder under Steve's arm, then back at his project. The struggle only lasts a second before he drops the goggles to the bench and looks up at Steve with a smile. "Yes, sir."
There's a faint flush to Tony's cheeks that could come from almost anything. It's familiar, though, and distracting enough that Steve doesn't notice the determination in Tony's stride right away. It takes three steps and a shirt button for Steve to figure it out. He's dreamed about having that expression turned on him. Now that it is, he would give anything to have Tony be able to give it to someone else.
What was it Reed had said about the third chip? Pleasant emotions equal pleasant sensations... Steve catches Tony's hands before he can undo another button. "Stop."
Tony freezes, flinching as if Steve had hit him.
Unpleasant emotions produce...
Steve's heart sinks to his sneakers. "You need to eat lunch first," he blurts out. The bewildered stare he gets in return is a thousand times better than the kicked-puppy look. Bullets hurt less than that look, and Steve knows what being shot is like. "We'll have lunch first," he repeats, like it might ease the rejection."
He feels like an absolute heel, like the lowliest scum on the bottom of some fourth-rate villain's shoe for not realizing what was wrong with Tony's reactions sooner. Reed hadn't said it straight up, but Steve's only experience with unpleasant stimuli is an experiment where scientists shocked the lab mice to teach them to avoid the food. Tony's never been exactly stable, but if that is what he's lived with for years...
Maybe it's not so surprising he broke.
While all this is going through Steve's head, Tony watches him through lowered eyelids. His hands tangle in Steve's shirt, but he's not trying to take it off anymore, at least. "Lunch?" he asked, already sounding resigned.
"Lunch," Steve agrees, and hopes Tony's forgotten about the other by the time they're done eating.
Onward