Tony's alarm sounded different, he thought. And it felt about thirty years too early to be waking up. Nonetheless, he opened his eyes, and squinted at the electronic blue light buzzing from his bedside table. The rest of the room was subordinately dark, just as it should be at – what - 3 am? He wriggled his arm free of the sheets and reached forward. Tony could think of about twenty people who were evil enough to be calling him at this unholy hour, but none of them matched what the caller ID was saying.
Tony flicked his thumb across the screen and brought it to his ear,
"Let me guess, your water just broke?"
"We have a situation."
Tony hung up.
He tossed the phone back onto its perch and slumped back into his pillow. As far as he was concerned, Fury could deal with his own situations for a night. Considering, especially, that Tony had gone at least seventy-two hours without more than forty-five consecutive minutes of sleep to call his own.
The phone started ringing again. Tony let it go for a while, but there were only so many times he could listen to Beat It without completely closing his mind.
"So," Tony said into the receiver, "Do you charge interest for your soul?"
"Stark, this is serious." Well, he certainly sounded serious. Of course, he always sounded serious. He could have just as easily been dealing with burnt eggs as he could have been trying to prevent active nuclear warfare, he would still sound as if any time spent not following his orders was time wasted. As far as Tony was concerned, that wasn't his problem. In fact, nothing was his problem, at least not until noon.
"Please tell me someone's dying?" he grumbled, draping his elbow across his eyes.
"It's Peter," Fury's voice had become strangely soft.
Tony was pretty sure he hadn't meant to move his arm, but he found himself in an odd position, staring at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, instead,
"Not my problem," he replied, quietly.
"And yes, he's dying."
Tony's eyes snapped open. His lips pressed together.
"Still not my problem," he repeated, having caught his breath. There was a moment of silence, and Tony heard his own word's echoing inside his head, empty, emotionless. Nothing like his normal self.
"…He's asked to see you."
"Has he?" Tony said tartly. Fury sighed,
"This can't go on forever, Stark," Fury started slowly, "And even if it could, you don't have that kind of time. Peter doesn't have that kind of time."
There was a pause. The phone blinked off. Tony swiped his thumb across the screen.
"He's just a kid, Tony. He's scared, but he doesn't want to admit it. Least of all, to me."
Tony swallowed.
"I have plans," he insisted weakly. What was this he was doing? Transport? Since when did he negotiate? Why not just offer the one-eyed guilt-tripper a stiff "no thanks" and roll back under the covers?
"It won't be long," Fury, as uncaring as ever, interrupted his thoughts. His voice was emotionless, but that somehow made it all the more condemning.
Despite himself, Tony winced.
"Innuendos aren't really your style, Nick."
"Nonetheless," the commander replied.
Tony sighed and rubbed his eyes. He saw stars and it reminded him of their spangled Captain.
He would go. No questions asked, no bribes needed.
Tony sighed again. For good measure. He wanted Fury to know what an inconvenience this was, if nothing else.
"Tell him to wait up," he said, and ended the call.
...
A/N: Just an odd idea I had. :) Not really sure where it's going, if it's going at all. Let me know what you guys think happened!