What's this? Someone else's POV! Forsooth.
Thank you for your continued interest and support! You all make my day. I'm a little worried that the characters' voices aren't strong enough/in character enough, especially Pepper, so any feedback or critique on that would be lovely.
For a long time after they were finally returned to their cell, Tony just sat against the wall, his head resting on his knees. He stared at the floor.
His lungs felt stretched and sore, his throat and sinuses burning from the water he'd choked on. Over and over, they'd held him under, each time waiting until he was dizzy and desperate from lack of oxygen to let him up again.
He was never going to get out of here.
"Boy." His companion crouched in front of him, tapping his arm. "I need to change your bandages."
Tony lifted his gaze, dull. His head felt heavy. "Why?"
"Because." The man tugged Tony to his feet and hefted the car battery, making him sit down on the little cot again. Firelight flickered off his glasses as he rebandaged Tony. The skin around the electromagnet was pink and blistered; burnt from the sparks of water hitting electricity. The man applied a thin layer of medication and covered it with bandages again. His movements were smooth and experienced.
"You're a doctor?" Tony asked, curious despite himself.
"Yes. I have been for many years." He made Tony drink another helping of water. It tasted like sand and metal.
"What's your name?"
He felt stupid, asking questions like these. But he found that he wanted to know. And if he was going to die here, in a cave, it might as well be with an acquaintance instead of a stranger.
"I am Yensin." He gave a small smile.
"Nice to meet you," Tony said, holding out a grimy hand. Yensin shook it, his smile growing.
"Nice to meet you too."
The cup clinked as Tony set it down. "...Thank you. For saving my life."
"You are welcome." There was a pause, then the man sat down next to Tony. "What do you plan to do with it?"
Tony frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You have been given a second chance," Yensin said, leaning closer. "To change your path." He gestured to the door, growing heated. "What you saw out there, that is your legacy. Your weapons in the hands of those murderers. Is this what you want? To give up and give in while they continue to take lives with your creations?"
"They're not mine!" Tony's hands curled into fists, his voice climbing higher. "It's not my company, it's my father's!"
Silence fell and Tony looked down.
"It was my Dad's, I mean. But I'm... I'm seventeen. I can't run a company, and I definitely can't stop all this. Before today, I didn't even know-" He broke off, pressing his fingers into his eyes until he saw stars. "None of this. I just can't, okay?"
Yensin was quiet for a long time. "Stark... Tony. I know this is very hard for you. I understand what it is to lose what you love. But you must believe me when I tell you that you can do this. Your fate is not set in stone. You can follow a different road than your father."
"What does it matter, anyway?" Tony let his forehead rest against his palms. "They're going to kill both of us either way. And even if they don't, I'll be dead in a week."
"Well." Yensin shot him a wry smile. "Then this is a pretty big week for you, isn't it?"
Tony looked at him, probing, then nodded sharply.
"Yeah. It is."
And just like that, he had a plan.
Steve cut a piece of his eggs neatly and dipped it in ketchup, holding a paperback with one hand. It was a science fiction novel; published back in 1938. It was yellowed and curled, the papers thick with age. He'd seen it once, in a store window. It had been new then, brightly colored and far too expensive for him.
The science fiction of his age seemed to be silly now. Small, where it had been fantastical and far-fetched before.
The present was so much bigger than anything he could've imagined.
"Steve?"
He sat up straight in his chair, and gave a nod. "Good morning, sir."
"Good morning." Coulson's suit was pressed and tidy, his movements crisp as he straightened his sleeves. "Did you sleep well?"
"Uh... Yeah-yes. Yeah, I did. Thank you." Steve gave a cautious smile. "There's breakfast on the stove, if you want it."
"Oh. Thank you. You didn't have to do that." Coulson scooped some eggs onto his plate and buttered a slice of pan-toasted bread.
Coulson, by his own claims, didn't own a toaster.
Steve suspected he'd put it away, not thinking Steve would be able to use it without burning the house down.
"No trouble, sir." Steve finished his food and rinsed the plate, setting it into the dishwasher. "I was up early."
"How was your first day? I'm sorry I was so late getting home. I had some... business, to attend to." Coulson sat at the small, circular table and sipped his coffee. "Did you meet some people?"
"I... Yes, I did." Steve pulled his jacket on, feeling more comfortable with the familiar weight on his shoulders. "Thanks. It was good. What business?" He paused. "I mean, if I can ask, sir. Does it have to do with SHIELD?"
Coulson looked up over his mug, eyebrows raising.
Steve went stiff.
"Relax, Rogers," Coulson said, a hint of amusement to his tone. Steve looked at the ground, his fists clenched.
"Yes, sir."
"You're right, it had to do with SHIELD. But you don't need to worry about that until we need you to be more involved. Just keep to your assignment." Coulson drained the last of his coffee and glanced down at his watch. "Romanoff knows, and Barton knows some, too. They're the only ones who do, and we'd like to keep it that way. Have you seen them at school?"
"Not yet, sir, but I'm sure I will."
Coulson stood. Steve collected his plate and mug, putting them in the dishwasher quickly. Coulson sighed. "Steve, I didn't bring you here to be my housekeeper."
"I know." Steve started the machine. "Just trying to be useful, sir."
"You're already useful. You're going to be an essential part of this operation. We wouldn't have cleared you to be off base otherwise." Coulson adjusted his suit. "Now, I have a meeting to get to. You can come with me, but it'll mean being early."
"I don't mind." Steve slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I'm still getting used to the layout, anyway. I'll use the extra time to get to class."
They got into Coulson's automobile, a simpler one than some Steve had seen since being out. It was blue and small, and Steve balanced his backpack on his knees in the front seat. The ride to school was quiet.
"Find my office, if you need anything today," Coulson said at last, pulling into the faculty parking. "It's on the map."
"Thank you, sir. I'll be fine." Steve got out and kept his hands in his pockets. He still felt like he should salute.
"Good luck. And..." Coulson looked a bit awkward. "Ease up a little on the sir."
"Yes sir." Steve flushed. "I mean... I'll do my best, Agent Coulson. Thanks for the ride."
Coulson disappeared into the school and Steve looked up at it. It was a tall building, red bricks and dark metal beams. He exhaled, and stepped through the doors.
Maybe today would be better.
"Today sucks," Tony mumbled into his sleeve.
"You say something, Stark?" Mr. Logan asked, from his desk.
"No," Tony didn't lift his head, his face buried in his arms. There'd been an emergency and he'd ended up sleeping for all of twenty minutes. And Obie had set up a whole new course of rules. If he knew Tony was sneaking out...
Well, he couldn't find out.
Tony wasn't sure he'd even be allowed to breathe unsupervised before long. And Obie had locked him out of Stark Industries completely.
He was too tired to feel any real emotions, but if he wasn't, he'd be... well. He'd be using words that would get him kicked out of school.
"Who are you?" Logan asked suddenly. There was a pause.
"Didn't Mr. Coulson..." The new voice trailed off.
Tony moaned quietly.
"Oh. You're Steve Rogers?" Logan made a sound that Tony knew meant he was rolling his eyes. "Great. Class starts in ten minutes. Go sit down."
Rogers walked all the way across the classroom, past rows of nice, empty, outside-of-Tony's-bubble chairs, and sat down right next to him.
Tony turned his head sideways to stare at Rogers incredulously. "Didn't I tell you to leave me alone?" He snapped.
Rogers seemed perfectly unbothered, leaning back and pulling out a book that looked about a hundred years old. "Yes, yes you did."
"And are you really a simpleton, or do you just choose to be oblivious?" Tony sat up and glared.
"That's a trick question," Rogers said, not even looking up.
A moment passed, and Tony heaved an exasperated sigh. "Aren't there plenty of other unsuspecting strangers you could go force your company on?"
Rogers shrugged, turning a page. "Well, I figure the devil you know..."
Tony snorted. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
And so, somehow, miracle of all miracles, Tony Stark ended up eating lunch with Steve Rogers.
He thought that, somewhere, hell must've been freezing over.
"Is that all you eat?" Steve eyed his cup of coffee and granola bar dubiously.
"Yep." Tony spoke with a full mouth. "And I've only got this-" he waved the granola bar for emphasis, "because Pepper snuck a handful of them into my backpack last week."
"Pepper sounds like a very impressive da-woman-girl." Steve's complexion lent itself well to blushing. Tony found it hilarious.
"Yeah. Just don't get on her bad side," he said fervently. "Ever."
"I'll keep that in mind." Steve leaned back against the wall and took a bite of his sandwich. He'd actually brought a lunch to school. In a paper freaking bag. Tony was really very impressed with himself for not making fun of it.
Well, not making fun of it excessively.
"Really though," Steve said, frowning. "Coffee isn't a suitable meal replacement. Unless they've managed to add a bunch of stuff I don't know about these days. Do you eat more than that when you're at home?"
Tony bristled. "Do you always try to parent people you've barely met, or am I just lucky?"
Rogers put his hands up in the universal gesture for don't kill me, I'm friendly, and tossed his crumpled-up paper bag into the trash. His aim wasn't half bad. "Sorry. I'm sure you can handle it yourself. And when they hospitalise you for malnutrition-"
"When they hospitalise me for malnutrition, they'll put coffee in the IV." Tony took a gulp and gave Rogers a pointed look. "I was just starting not to hate you, Rogers. Don't mess it up."
Rogers's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You hated me?"
Tony waved a hand. "Yeah, but don't worry about it. I hate everybody."
"That sounds... exhausting." Rogers frowned.
"It's like the justice system. Awful until proven tolerable." Tony smiled crookedly. "It's worked out pretty well so far."
Rogers shook his head, bemused. "If you say so."
Tony ate with Steve the next day, too, since Pepper had to skip high school to make up an exam for one of her other classes.
"It's not that I prioritize high school lower," she'd told him over the phone, sounding out of breath and guilty. "It's just that I get college credit for these, and they'll matter more in the long run."
"So basically you're saying that you prioritize high school lower." Tony smiled wryly. "Don't worry about it, Potts. If your grades here were any better, you'd be getting inducted into Mensa. You can afford to play hooky once."
"Don't call it that," she huffed. "I'm going still to do the homework, you know, and it's really-"
"Pepper. I'm just kidding. Go retake your test, you're going to do great."
Pepper sighed. "Thanks, Tony. I'll call you after, when I'm feeling... Human again, and you can tell me whatever it is you've been waiting to tell me."
"How did you-"
"I can hear it in your voice, Mr. Stark, don't underestimate my powers of deduction." There was a grating noise in the background as Pepper's car started-really, Tony didn't even like her owning that death trap, let alone driving it-and she continued in a businesslike tone. "So there's no use denying it. Just wish me luck and you can give a full report tonight."
"Yes, ma'am." Tony's mouth twitched. "Good luck."
"Thanks," Pepper said.
He slipped the phone into his pocket.
For a moment, he considered going to the familiar tech lab to eat, with Banner's silent not-really-companionship and the hum of machinery. It sounded appealing in a way.
But then, he spent enough time with silent companionship and machinery at home.
And Rogers wasn't... so bad. Not awful. Tolerable, probably.
He bought a coffee and went on a search.
"I'm-I'm sorry, Tony," Steve stammered, every inch filled with nervous energy. He didn't know what was up with the guy. Half the time he was mellow, even casually sarcastic, and half the time he was uptight like nothing else. "I really didn't mean to."
"Yeah, you've said. Ten times. And I said it's fine." Tony tugged on the hoodie to keep the hot-soaked fabric from burning his skin while they walked to the bathroom. "Worse things have happened, trust me."
Tony pushed the door open.
"Let me help, at least," Steve said. "I can-"
"No!"
Steve pulled his hands back like he was the one who'd been burned.
Tony exhaled. "I mean, no thanks. It's no big deal, I can handle it. Just wait out here for me, got it?"
"Got it." Steve's shoulders slumped.
"Great." Tony ducked inside and checked under the stalls. Nobody but him, and they didn't have cameras in the bathrooms. Quickly, he unzipped his jacket and ran it under cold water, squeezing out warm, light brown water. He really didn't know why they had to make the coffee that hot.
"Hurry..." He muttered to himself, casting an uneasy glance to where the blue circle stood out through his t-shirt. The sight of it made his stomach do a weird flipping thing, like always.
Not a nice flipping thing, like that time last summer when Pepper held his hand during a fireworks show.
(So she wouldn't fall off the platform they'd been standing on, but still.)
No, it was a bad flipping thing. Like when you got an unexpected breakup text, or when you were suddenly and very undeniably reminded that all that was between you and death was an electromagnet hooked up to a theoretical generator.
It made him want to puke.
"Tony?" Steve called.
"Yeah, almost done," Tony said. He wrung out as much water as he could and pulled it back on, grimacing. It was cold and damp and smelled like cheap school coffee.
Sucking it up and moving on seemed to be the only course of action. And he didn't want to make Rogers feel guiltier. Which seemed altogether too nice for Tony, but everyone had their off days.
"I just need to wash my hands now," he said, pushing them under the water and scrubbing.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
"Hang on..." He dried his hands on his jeans and pulled it out, smearing residual drops of water across the screen, and read the message.
He blanched.
"Shoot. Oh, shoot." Tony shoved the phone away and ran out of the bathroom, his blood rushing in his ears.
"Tony, are you..."
"I have to go, Rogers, sorry." Tony pushed past him.
"But-"
"Can't!" Tony raced down the hall and out the front doors of the school, his heart pounding.
Nope.
He wasn't panicking.
But yeah, he was.