Steve drummed his fingers on the table. His eyes had skimmed the first line of the newspaper article he held clutched in his other hand more times than he could count. He shifted his gaze to the far wall, glaring angrily at the blank space. He was alone in the common kitchen despite Stark's assurance that he, "would be there on time for the strategy meeting," and that he, "wouldn't get distracted this time."
He was moments away from storming down to the lab and dragging Stark up here himself. The billionaire couldn't keep a meeting if it was tattooed backwards on his forehead. Steve imagined that Stark spent enough time gazing at his reflection in the mirror that the forehead tattoo would be most likely to do the trick.
But Steve wasn't thundering down the stairs just yet. He was seething and trying to squash the reaction he was having to Stark's ridiculous disregard for the rules. Couldn't he show another human being just a modicum of respect?
This was an overreaction.
Steve knew that.
But he also was aware that the serum amplified every part of his personality. And man did he hate when someone disrespected people. Disrespect for authority? That was practically ingrained in Steve's DNA. Disrespect for human people? Not okay.
The whole team had been at the meeting, ready to go over the plan. They had some dangerous missions on the table, and Stark's input was vital. He had the gear and know-how to do incredible things with technology. But he couldn't give that kind of input if he never showed up. So after Steve had taken hours to prepare for the meeting, had set up the conference room with neatly paper-clipped mission reports and honest-to-God agendas for each Avenger, Stark hadn't even shown his face. Hadn't called, hadn't texted, not so much as an email.
At first, Steve had been worried. He had gone so far as to contact JARVIS (something he had recently learned how to do), who had informed him that, "Sir is perfectly healthy and working on a project. Thank you for your concern, Captain, but he has requested that he not be disturbed for anything, and I quote, 'not bat shit crazy.'"
JARVIS had informed Steve of this over the omnipotent speakers all over Stark—no, Avenger—Tower, right in front of the team he was supposed to be leading. Not that it really mattered, everyone understood that Stark was a couple of handfuls on a good day, but Steve still remembered the heat rising in his face. They had all blocked out time to sit down and go through the briefing, but instead they had collected the information, mumbled something about, "finding a time that works for everyone," and had disappeared to their floors in the Tower.
Steve had clenched his jaw in frustration as he marched up to the common kitchen. He had considered going straight to the lab, but thought better of it. He knew he needed to take the time to calm down.
Thirty minutes later, he had not calmed down at all. He hadn't even finished the first sentence of this article, and he was still seething. He needed to get this over quickly, because he was only going to get angrier at the billionaire.
People seemed to think that he didn't get frustrated or angry. He was American's Golden Boy, after all. Did they just assume that he took righteous anger and patriotism into battle? Of course he fought for his country, but he was fueled with anger, fury, and loss. He took more darkness onto the battlefield than he cared to admit. But he could still paste that Captain America smile onto his face when he needed to, it just rarely felt natural anymore.
That didn't mean that he wasn't happy. He liked his new teammates and he was adjusting to life in this strange new time period. He just wasn't the same after the ice.
He stood and dropped the rather crumpled paper to the table. He made his decision and strode toward the staircase. When he got to the lab doors, he had a moment of pause as he raised his fist to knock. Stark was a genius. Maybe he really was working on something important—curing cancer important. Right as he was about to turn around and try to read that article for the thousandth time, the doors slid open. Steve was left with his fist awkwardly held up by his face, poised to knock.
"How many times do I have to tell you, Cap?" Came Stark's voice from across the lab. "You don't have to knock. JARVIS lets me know when anyone shows up at the door."
"Right," Steve said, somewhat caught off balance by the intelligent door. "Do you have a minute?"
"For you?" Tony said, leering at him from around a full suit of Iron Man armor. "I might have 30 seconds."
Steve glowered at the genius, feeling the burning irritation begin to rise in his chest again.
"No time for actually being an Avenger, is that right?"
Stark's head snapped up and he took a closer look at the Super Soldier.
"What's got your star-spangled panties in a bunch, Cap?" He brushed his hands off on his jeans, only smearing them further with grease and oil. "You did just come barging into my workshop."
"Barging in—listen," Steve ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "You missed the briefing today. You swore you would be there—we actually had a lot of important information to go over—and you casually decided to skip."
Stark opened his mouth to talk, but Steve interrupted.
"You can't just be a part of the team if you only do the parts that you like," he said. "Nobody really loves briefings, but I need you to participate. How am I supposed to lead you on the battlefield if you won't pay attention to the little things."
Stark twirled a small, expensive-looking tool in his hand. "Cap," he said, "you've read my file. I don't play well with others. Doesn't mean I don't respect you, big guy, but don't expect me to coming running every time you call."
Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Stark cut him off. Steve was sure this was intentional and malicious.
"You know a crisis and a briefing are different things, Cap. I've got your back out there. Just maybe lay off with the whole, 'we're soldiers' thing." Stark made obnoxious air quotes. "Because we're not. I'm an inventor, and you're a four-thousand-year-old popsicle with a stick up his ass."
Steve's hands balled up in fists and he took a step toward Stark before his brain could relay the 'calm down' signal to his muscles.
Stark's eyes flew wide and he said, "shit!" right before he dove at Steve. Though Tony was no NFL quarterback, his tackle was fueled by desperation, and he managed to topple Steve over. For weeks, Steve would protest that it was because he was off-balance in that moment. Tony never let it die.
A gold Iron Man suit shot just inches by them. Steve felt the heat of the thrusters on his face.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Stark muttered, pushing off of Steve and making a mad dash for the nearest keypad.
He input a few numbers, muttering something about a manual override, and watched the suit warily. It stood and raised its arm, readying a shot from its palm.
"Power down," Stark shouted, making some kind of slashing motion with his hands.
Steve leapt to his feet, mind reeling from suddenly being attacked.
"What the hell is happening, Stark?"
"Whoa there, Cap," Stark said, sparing him a quick glance as he turned back to the keyboard. "Careful, you might say something even more vulgar."
"Seriously, Stark?" Steve growled, moving slowly toward the inventor with a wary gaze on the suit. "We're being attacked by one of your suits and you're going to check me for language?"
"Well, technically it's just you who's being attacked," Tony said brightly, fingers moving at lightning speed. "See, all of my suits are programed to protect me, The Creator."
Steve snorted at the title.
"And also," Tony said, "It's not a suit, it's a drone."
Steve furrowed his brow, instinctively putting his body between Stark and the golden suit as it stalked toward them.
"Now it thinks you're trying to kidnap me or something," Stark muttered. "Try to move away from me and see if we can confuse it while I fix this bug and get the override working."
Steve reluctantly left Stark vulnerable, with his back turned to the suit, and edged carefully away from him.
This didn't stop the suit's advance, however, and Steve realized he was going to be facing hand-to-hand grappling without his shield.
"Tony," Steve asked, the billionaire's first name slipping from his lips as his mind focused solely on the task at hand. "Any tips on taking this thing down?"
"If I can get it shut off, you won't have to take it down," Stark said. "It's kind of designed to go against enhanced humans and stand a chance, so you may want to play it safe."
Steve ducked as a metal fist flew at his face, spinning to avoid the knee that the suit intended to send into his gut.
"Stark," Steve grunted, "I thought you were some kind of genius. Now would be a great time to showcase that particular skill set."
Stark turned a fake affronted look to Steve. "You focus on the robot trying to kill you. I will also focus on the robot that's trying to kill you. Fighting the battle on two fronts or something, that's got to be a concept you're familiar with."
Steve glared over at Stark, although now the man's back was turned and he was speaking in a low voice with JARVIS. Steve turned his attention back to the golden Iron Man. Grappling with a suit that looked exactly what Stark wore (minus the color scheme) left a strange, twisting feeling in his stomach. In his head, he continuously repeated the words, not Stark, not Stark, not Stark. He would never forgive himself for hurting one of his teammates, even though he still kind of wanted to strangle Stark.
Just a little.
Steve cried out as the suit used the repulsors to fire a quick blast along his chest. The searing heat only burned along the left side of his ribs, but it was enough to slow him down. The suit sent a metal fist into his face, stunning him, and bent his forearm back at a painful angle before giving a precise push. Red flooded Steve's vision as he felt the bones in his forearm snap.
He choked down a scream, but he knew he hadn't fully succeeded.
"Hang on, Cap," came Stark's frantic voice. "Hang on, Steve!"
Through a haze of pain and what was probably a minor concussion, Steve saw the eye lights power down. The suit became dead weight over Steve's body, so he used his shaking left arm to lever the weight off of himself. His right arm was clutched protectively against his chest. The left side of his chest burned, his arm throbbed obscenely, and his head pounded. Now that he thought about it, he could taste blood in his mouth. He lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling of the workshop.
"Oh God, Cap?" Stark hit his knees next to Steve, hands roaming over his body to identify his injuries.
"Talk to me, Steve," Stark said. "Where are you hurt? Other than the arm. I can—" Stark swallowed down a gag reflex, "I can see that one."
Steve blinked rapidly to clear his mind, trying to focus on the frantic man who hovered above him.
"I'm fine, Stark, really," Steve said, fighting down the bile in his throat. No matter how super you were, a compound fracture brought on the nausea. "Help me sit up."
Stark put his hands under his shoulders and helped Steve to a more vertical position.
"Look, we need to get me to Bruce or to SHIELD medical before the break starts healing," Steve said, breathless from the injuries. "You know how fast I heal. This won't keep me down for long."
After some moaning and heaving, Stark got Steve to his shaky feet. They struggled up the stairs, making their way to a waiting Bruce. JARVIS had informed him. He hovered over Steve, gently touching and examining his injuries.
"Tony," Bruce said, "We need to get him to SHIELD medical. They have the proper imaging equipment to get this arm set."
Bruce looked at Steve with those large, gentle eyes. "What happened, Steve?"
Steve rolled his eyes over to Tony, raising an eyebrow at the engineer. "We had something of a malfunction in the lab."
Tony grinned at Steve behind Bruce's back. That sounded like forgiveness.
"Come on, Brucie," Tony said, getting a shoulder under Steve's arm to help him stand. "Let's get the Star Spangled Man with a Plan to medical before his arm heals in some gruesome shape."
Low enough so that Bruce couldn't hear, Tony said, "I'm sorry, Steve. No more malfunctions in the lab."
"Maybe make it to my briefing next time," Steve said. He softened it with a pain-ridden grin.
"You've got it, Cap," Tony said, breathing out a sigh of relief.
Even though it sounded like Tony had choked over the apology, Steve felt a smile break out on his face. Through the haze of pain, he realized that his anger had evaporated. Maybe this eccentric lunatic could be a friend after all.