Author's Note: Got to get this one done, promised myself I would not start another one until I finish this one. Otherwise I'll get sidetracked so need to get this one done. Thank you all for putting up with me, and all the support and also so fan art by roodles! Awesome! Enjoy!
Hats off to you again ravingbeauty, thanks you for all you do.
That Has Such People
Part X – The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact
"What the fuck is this thing!?" Tony cursed as he dodged out of the way of some sort of thick, oozing tentacle. Beside him on the ground, Hulk growled in agreement and punched another one of the wriggling appendages with a sick, wet, sucking sound.
"I have no idea… It seems to be some sort of giant cephalopod." Steve answered, blasting it for all he was worth.
"I have no goddamn clue what that means," Tony groused and hurled his shield at the thing, swearing roundly when it just stuck to the creature's gooey body.
"That didn't work out well," Hawkeye noted dryly. The archer could barely contain his laughter at the stream of obscenities that flowed from their beloved leader. Steve rolled his eyes, biting his lip to keep from laughing.
"Captain America, tone down the language." Director Fury cut in, sounding strained, as if he too was on the verge of losing it.
Biting back a few choice words for the director and frustrated beyond reason, Tony lifted half a burning car and hurled it at the blob, letting loose a roar of rage that even the Hulk would be proud of. It hit the thing center mass, and the solider grunted in perverse satisfaction. As with everything else they had thrown at it, the monster would absorb the car, only this time…
"It's melting," he mumbled with amazed realization. His quick mind connected the dots.
"Fire!" he yelled over the comms. Nearby Hulk turned to him, looking from Tony to the car and back before nodding in understanding. Steve and Clint, however, were another story.
"What are you talking about?" the archer asked, pausing as another one of his arrows landed fruitlessly in the gelatinous mass.
"Fire. Use fire – it melts," Tony answered absently, scanning the ground for something else flammable.
"Roger that, Cap," Steve acknowledged as he pulled up his flamethrower, glad he'd added this particular modification.
On the ground Tony finally spotted a possibility. A nearby store stood dark and empty, windows blown out – a liquor store. Ignoring the crunch of glass, he hurriedly jumped in and scanned the darkened shelves for bottles with highest alcohol content. Cradling several bottles, he briefly paused at the cash register to grab some sort of novelty t-shirt on the way out. Once back on the street, he could see the Hulk fending off several encroaching tentacles.
"Big guy, buy me some time?" he hollered at the other. With a roar, the Hulk nodded his mammoth head and renewed his attack. Working quickly, Tony tore up the shirt, opened a bottle, and stuffed the material in the top.
"What are you doing, Cap?" Steve called as he hovered nearby, burning off the parts of the ooze he could get to.
"Fighting fire with fire," he grunted back. Fishing out his lighter, he shook the bottle to soak the rag before lighting it. After waiting for the flame to catch properly, he heaved his arm back and let fly.
"Fire in the hole!" he yelled as the burning bottle hit the creature dead on, flames spreading quickly.
"Holy shit! Was that a Molotov cocktail, Cap?" Clint asked, disbelief clear in his tone.
Quickly lighting another, Tony moved around the creature and tossed the bottle. "Goddam right it is," he confirmed.
"Badass, Cap," the archer laughed.
Tony dodged and weaved, circling the base of the thing, managing six direct hits. With its base now on fire, the creature screeched angrily, thrashing the whole while. Tony wasn't sure if it felt pain, but damned if he didn't feel a little sorry for the abomination.
Stepping back out of range of the now smoking tentacles, he joined the Hulk to wait and see what would happen next.
"It's still moving," Clint commented.
"It's making a lot of noise," Steve complained as he blasted it again.
"Won't die…" Hulk grated.
"Hit the nail on the head there, Big Green," Tony muttered, wondering what the hell else they could possibly do to it. The thing was on fire, it smelled like rotting garbage, and it was still kicking.
His answer showed up in a swirl of crimson cloak and a low rumble of thunder. Tony had never been happier to see the over-the-top Norse god.
"Brethren, I have returned," Thor greeted the team. "What goes here?" he called out.
Tony didn't even hesitate. "Thor, hit it with everything you have," he ordered.
Grinning happily, Thor moved to comply with the command, swinging Mjolnir as the sky immediately darkened.
A hairsbreadth after he'd called out to the god, a terrible realization occurred to him – Steve was still in the air. Worried, Tony called out a warning, "Steve, he's go-" Before he could get it out, though, the exuberant god did as he'd been instructed.
One second Tony was standing in the middle of the street; the next moment he was flying through the air, only to have his unplanned flight abruptly halted by a brick wall. Wind completely knocked from him, the soldier slid to the ground; he barely had a moment to catch his breath before he was hit by a giant blob of ooze.
It tasted worse than it smelled.
"Oh gross, Cap," Clint chirped in his ear. Groaning, the super soldier heaved himself to his feet and tried to wipe the sticky gunk from his face and eyes.
"Urgh," he muttered as he spotted the Hulk staggering upright nearby; he'd been saved from being gunked by an errant piece of wall.
"Clint, you ok?" he asked, spitting as he tried to clear his mouth of the foul-tasting mess.
"Just dandy, Cap," the archer replied, humor lacing his tone. "I was well out of range."
"Thor, all good?" he called, watching as the big blond landed before him, looking very pleased with his work.
"Well fought, companions," he cried.
"I'll take that as a yes," Tony mumbled as he carefully tried to get a cigarette out without drenching it in goo. Eventually, though, he gave up and just stuck it in his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the taste.
"Iron Man, you ok?" he asked, lighting the tip of his smoke, waiting for the familiar voice in his ear.
It never came.
"Steve?" he tried again, lifting a hand to his ear and straining his enhanced hearing. His only reply was static.
"Shit. Hawkeye, where is he?" he yelled, already running.
"Before the blast he was half a block up from you. I'm already headed that way."
"What is amiss, friend Anthony?" Thor asked, concerned.
"Steve's not answering. We've got to find him," he yelled, already running. Within seconds Hulk fell in stride with him, Thor close behind.
Tony's heart was in his throat. He couldn't… Steve couldn't… He tried to push aside the dark thoughts that crept across his mind even as his stomach churned at mental images of Iron Man lying twisted and broken amidst the rubble.
"Steve!" he yelled again, terror leaking into his tone as he frantically searched for any flash of red or gold.
"Cap, on your four," Clint yelled. Tony abruptly changed directions, never breaking stride as he cleared a broken wall and kept going.
"Steve!" he yelled, scrabbling up the pile of rubble. The building had come down, and he was almost on top of the armor before he saw a glint of gold. Without thought he dropped to his knees and dug frantically, unmindful of the sharp edges and torn metal that ripped through his gloves and bit deeply into the flesh beneath. Heart in his throat, he strained to move the heavy rubble, only half noticing when the others joined him.
Together they made short work of the debris, revealing the battered form, its chest piece conspicuously dark.
"Steve!" Tony cried, knowing that light meant life. Hurriedly he pulled off Steve's faceplate, revealing his pale, still countenance. Panicking, Tony grabbed a metal shoulder and gave the man a desperate shake.
"Come on, Steve," he said desperately, pleading internally with whatever higher power was out there to let those blue eyes open for him. Just when he was sure he was going to break down, the man in his arms gave a weak cough. Relief such as he'd never known flooded Tony's system as the arc reactor weakly flickered back to life.
Inhaling wheezily, the genius seemed to be in a daze as he blinked up at the man holding him. "Hey, Cap," he croaked, managing to find a weak smirk. "We win?"
Tony wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Without thought, he gathered the metal figure close and held him tenderly. Brown eyes closed as he shot a prayer of thanks heavenwards, unsure who it was meant for, but knowing that someone must have been watching over Steve today.
"Better get him to medical," Bruce suggested gently, reminding Tony they were still on ground zero.
"Indeed, Captain. Steven should seek medical aid," Thor said from where he stood next to the Doc.
"Transport is on the way," Clint said as he joined them, standing close to Bruce and offering him a supporting arm. Nodding in acknowledgment, Tony cradled Steve easily and stood, barely noticing the blood that dripped from his ruined hands.
"Hey," the billionaire protested softly, too tired to do anything aside from resting his head against the broad shoulder.
"Hush," Tony soothed absently as he descended back to street level to await the transport.
Thor watched them depart thoughtfully before turning to the other two. A blond brow rose as he noticed Bruce leaning into the archer and a sly smile stretched his lips, "Much has happened in my absence. You must tell me what has transpired."
-#-#-#-
Tony stared unseeing at the clear night sky, vision obscured by the smoke curling from the end of his cigarette. Heavily bandaged fingers pulled the cigarette from his lips as he exhaled softly, letting the cool wind whisper across his overheated body.
The calm of the moment, however, did nothing to quiet the churning of his mind. From the battle, to Steve's injury, to sitting and worrying endlessly in medical, it had been a long day… His worry was not for himself, though. The injuries to his hands, while serious for an average person, would be fine. He'd cut them deeply during his frantic dig, but they would heal in a day or so.
No, his worry was for another. When all was said and done, Steve had bruised his ribs, fractured his wrist, and received a mild concussion. It could have been much worse. It almost had been.
The soldier shuddered and took another long drag as he tried to make sense of his world; it had been rocked to its very foundation today. The thought of losing Steve was impossible. He couldn't even imagine being here without him, didn't want to be in this time without him.
Steve had shown him a world that was beyond anything he'd ever dreamed, had made the future accessible for him – even accepted him as he was. He was the only one not pushing Tony to change. That cocky, aloof blond, who was far too smart for his own good, had come to mean the world to Tony. It was confusing, troubling… terrifying…
Tony was terrified of what this meant, terrified of his own feelings, terrified of what Steve may say. His fear hadn't stopped anything, though. It had happened without him even realizing, creeping up and blindsiding him with the force of Thor's hammer.
The truth of it was he'd fallen in love with Steve Rogers.
Stubbing out his cigarette, Tony buried his head in his hands with a pained groan. He hadn't meant to – it had just been impossible not to. He was funny, charming, sweet… handsome… and incredibly patient.
"It's a fool's dream, Stark," he chastised himself, as if saying the words aloud would help. A despondent chuckle fell quietly from his lips.
"What would you say, brother?" he asked aloud to the night sky as he looked upwards once more, head and heart in knots. Shuddering out a sigh, Tony found a smile tugging at his lips, melancholy and sweet; he was almost able to hear Howard's voice once more, see the confident smile and the tilt of his hips as he crossed his arms, giving Tony an exasperated glare for asking such a ridiculous question.
Hold on to what happiness you find, little brother… it is few and far between in this world.
Absently he wiped his eyes. "You're right," he murmured. "You always were."
-#-#-#-
He felt like he'd been chewed up and spat back out. Everything hurt. Hell, even his hair hurt.
Slowly, painfully, Steve worked on opening his eyes, though the effort cost him more energy than he wished to spare. Finally he managed to blink, blearily panning across the room he was in. Bright lights, beeping machines, sterile antiseptic smell… he was in a hospital.
Someone squeezed his hand gently.
"Ok, Steve?" a familiar deep voice asked.
Slowly, carefully, the injured man turned to look at the source, more than pleased to see Tony sitting by his bedside.
"Feel like I got hit by a truck," he croaked.
A callused thumb rubbed the back of his hand tenderly. "Not far from the truth. A building collapsed on you."
Just the thought of it made him hurt. "Must have survived… hurt too much to be dead," Steve joked.
Tony could only manage a shaky smile. "You had us worried, Steve. You had me worried…" he confessed, feeling the dreaded blush heat his neck.
Steve blinked; he must be on some serious painkillers because he was definitely hallucinating. There was no way Tony… He pushed the dangerous thoughts away as he tightened his grip comfortingly, noticing feeling the stiff material of bandages for the first time.
Frowning he looked down at their joined hands. "What happened to your hands?" he asked, startled to see Tony's hands swathed in white from wrist to fingertips.
The soldier shrugged, unconcerned, "Nothing to worry about. Worry about getting better, sleep."
The plan sounded like a good one as Steve gave a jaw-cracking yawn. Muzzy from the drugs, he drifted towards slumber once more.
"You'll be here when I wake-up?" he asked softly, not positive if it had been aloud or in his own muddled mind.
Tony's reply, however, he was sure was just his own desperate imagining – a tender kiss to his brow and a softly given promise of "Always."
-#-#-#-
Tony woke slowly, moving thickly through layers of sleep to blink dark eyes open, only to rear back frantically when he realized he was nose to nose with Clint Barton.
"You weren't kidding, were you, Freckles?" the archer mused, his grin wide. "Morning sunshine," he said to Tony.
Confused and disoriented, Tony sat upright and realized he was still in the hospital where he'd passed out watching over… Steve!
He turned quickly to see the still wan man propped up on pillows and looking at him with relieved amusement. Tony spotted Bruce next, sitting on the far side of Steve.
The scientist offered up an explanation, "I told them not to worry, that sleeping was normal."
Tony yawned and flexed his hands before wiggling his fingers experimentally. "How long was I out this time?"
"Twelve hours," Clint supplied helpfully. "Steve got worried when he couldn't get you up."
Sheepishly the super solider gave Steve an apologetic smile.
"Bruce explained," the blond rasped. "Wish I could do that."
Tony gave him a lopsided grin, completely unaware of the picture he was presenting at that moment. Steve, however, was very aware. The plain white t-shirt was almost indecently tight and all but see-through across the super soldier's heavily muscled torso. The dark gray SHIELD sweatpants were riding tantalizingly low, so that Steve's blue eyes couldn't help but fasten on the strip of skin revealed when the hem of his t-shirt rode up. Tony's thick, dark hair stood out from his head at odd angles, his dark eyes slumberous… bedroom eyes.
"How are you feeling?" Tony asked as he moved towards the bed, absently unwinding the bandages on his hands as he went.
"Like death warmed over," Steve wheezed, shifting painfully. He hated hurting his ribs, but it was an unfortunate reality of his condition. With the arc reactor set into his chest, his ribcage had been forced to heal around the inlay, making the bones brittle and prone to injury.
Hands now free of the wrapping, Tony spared only a moment to note the new scar marring the back of his left hand before cracking his knuckles, once more right as rain.
Clint, however, was not so flippant; he grabbed Tony's hands and looked them over with amazement. "Your hands were a mess yesterday… they look like nothing happened now."
Tony shrugged self-consciously, "Power of the serum."
Steve latched onto Clint's comment. "What did you do to your hands?" he asked. "Was it the battle?"
"No, he did it while digging you out," Clint explained before Tony could stop him. The Cap glared at his friend, but the blond cheerfully, obliviously, continued, "He waited too long to get them cleaned out, too. The doctors had to cut them open again because they'd started to heal over…" He trailed off at the pleading look Tony was giving him.
On the bed, Steve looked stricken and Bruce, sensing the sudden tension, quietly led Clint from the room.
Tony wanted to throttle the archer even though he knew he meant well. Sighing, he moved to settle beside Steve's bed once more, "Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you."
Steve still looked shaken so Tony automatically took his hand, the engineer latching onto Tony like a lifeline. With surprising strength, the man on the hospital bed turned Tony's hand over and examined it intently.
Tony felt his heart rise into the throat at the gentle touches, the nimble fingers running along the new silvery line across his skin. It was on the tip on his tongue to say it was nothing, when suddenly soft lips were pressing against the scar. Tony froze.
Steve had no idea what possessed him to do it, but he couldn't regret it once it was done. "Thank you," he mumbled against the warm skin before pulling away, unable to meet the dark eyes. "Thank you for coming back for me."
Emotions tangled in Tony's chest as large blue eyes slowly looked up at him. Howard's words echoing in his mind, Tony leaned forward, closing the distance between them. The world fell away; nothing existed beyond the two of them.
Mere inches separated them when a sudden commotion in the hallway broke the moment; Tony jolted backwards just as the door burst open to reveal Thor, bearing the most obscenely large bouquet of flowers Tony had ever seen.
"Shield brothers, I come bearing gifts to herald your recovery," the enthusiastic god bellowed. Grinning he held his gift aloft, looking very pleased with himself. "I have been told this is a Midgardian custom when one is healing."
Tony solemnly nodded and accepted the proffered flowers, "Thank you very much, Thor. That's very thoughtful of you."
Steve was still trying to process what had just happened; his brain had completely short-circuited. Captain America had just about kissed him. He was sure of it… wasn't he? Frowning, he glared at the sheet over his legs. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he'd hallucinated the whole thing.
"Most wonderful, Anthony. Your hands look anew!" the god rejoiced. Though Steve vaguely registered Thor's presence, he felt his eyes drifting towards Tony again. Only Cap would stand in the middle of the hospital room, having a serious conversation with a god from another dimension, holding flowers.
As the door opened again a group of doctors appeared, followed by Bruce and Clint, and the room descended into chaos as everyone began talking at once. Steve, still a little weak on his pins, found it more than a little overwhelming.
Suddenly a sharp whistle rent the air, abruptly silencing the chatter. All eyes immediately turned to Captain America, who stood tall and stern in the center of the room.
"Right, everybody out except the doctor," he ordered, all business. Thor looked like a kicked puppy and Tony gave him a lopsided smile, "Tell you what, big guy – head back with Bruce and Clint, get some food, and I'll join you in a bit."
Appeased, Thor clapped him on the shoulder, "That is most agreeable, Anthony." Turning, he snagged the other two and headed out of the room, loudly extolling the virtues of poptarts as a meal for every occasion.
Tony started to follow and give Steve a moment alone with the doctor, but a soft call made him pause.
"Tony?" The voice was raspy and low, but he heard it all the same.
As Tony turned back, Steve offered him a tired smile. "Stay?" he asked, a wealth of meaning behind the words.
Tony swallowed down the sudden rise in his throat. "Sure," he said, returning to the bedside. The doctor, every inch a professional, maintained his composure throughout – no mean feat around the Avengers, Tony was learning.
"Well, Mr. Rogers, you're free to go home. Just refrain from anything strenuous and keep the brace on." He flipped open his chart, "I also recommend having someone spend the night with you tonight to be on the safe side. The concussion was mild, but it's best to be cautious."
Tony nodded seriously, paying close attention, and offered the doctor his hand, "Thank you very much, doctor."
The man in lab coat blinked in surprise, cheeks coloring slightly. Steve tried to hold back a grin at the rather awestruck look on the medical man's face. He knew that feeling well; Captain America was all but a force of nature.
Properly flustered now, the doctor beat a hasty retreat, promising to send a nurse in with the discharge papers. As the other man left, Tony rounded on Steve with a happy grin, "Well, that's good news – you can go home. Let's get you dressed."
It was one order the genius was happy to comply with.
Slowly and painfully, Steve sat up until he was eventually sitting with his legs over the side of the bed. Even small movements made pain flare in his chest, forcing him to move gingerly. Wrinkling his nose, he paused to rest, breathing shallowly as he waited for the pain to pass.
Then Tony was there; without words, he gently untied the blue gown and carefully slipped it off. Steve tried not to shudder as those strong and capable hands gently smoothed over his bound chest.
"Ok?" Tony asked softly, unable to help but lay a hand gently on the steady blue light peeping out from under the bindings.
"Yeah," Steve mumbled, trying to help as Tony gently guided his arms through the sleeves of a roomy sweater.
As he zipped up the hoodie, Tony paused. "You ok to go home in the hospital pants?" he asked.
Steve nodded; he really didn't care what he was wearing as long as he got out of this hospital room. Not a moment too soon, the nurse bustled in with a wheelchair and a stack of paperwork. Before Steve could even process moving, though, he found himself lifted easily and settled gently in the chair.
Too surprised to protest, he dazedly found himself looking up into the grinning face of Tony Stark.
"Let's go home."