Thank you for your support and kind words. You complete me!

**8**

"Steve!"

He'd sort of hoped calling his name would work, but the coughing and hacking doesn't stop; instead, Steve raises his hand and shakes it a little to show he heard. Tony goes from a jog to a run, skidding to an unsafe stop by the heaving man's side. Rainwater soaks through his shoes and weighs down the bottoms of his jeans, pools of water from the storm an hour before still slicking the streets and sidewalks. "God, Steve, are you alright?"

"'M - fine," Steve gasps, sucking in lungfuls of air as the fit subsides. "H'wre you?"

"Jesus." Tony shakes his head in dismay. "I'm fine, of course, I have a coat and umbrella. This is the shittiest weather to be trying the summer hipster look in, Steve."

"Not a hipster," replies Steve, scowling. Even so, he adjusts his cap and the straps of his coveralls. "I'm a construction worker."

"What?" Tony gapes, disbelieving. "Oh god, that is the worst job for you! Steve, you're a ninety-pound asthmatic! You're going to get yourself killed."

"Won't," mutters Steve, then, louder, "I'm a hundred and twelve pounds, Tony."

"Yeah, and six foot three," Tony snaps. "You're a stick. A sickly stick that could get knocked over by a stray feather. You should work on that."

"I am," Steve says indignantly. "Can't you tell?" He flexes tellingly. Tony squints, only half joking.

"Nothing," he says at last. Steve's scowl deepens.

"Well I am," he says. "And soon I'll be able to pick you up and lug you around the way you do to me."

Tony snorts. "Sure, Steve. I look forward to the day."

"Just remember," Steve warns, "I'm a solid six inches taller than you."

"Are not," Tony sniffs. "Four. Five at the most."

Steve mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, "whatever you say, short stack." The other man narrows his eyes.

"Get out of that puddle," he says finally, tugging on his arm. "Unless you're trying to get sick, which, if you are? No need to search out a puddle. Just stay outside in this weather for fifteen minutes or so without a jacket - oh wait."

Steve levels him an unimpressed look. "Outside our cafe."

Tony nods. "True," he allows with a grin. "So, what now? Gonna open the door or do I have to sweep you off your feet, literally?"

"With all your manly muscles?" the blond retorts with heavy (mock) skepticism.

"Hey," Tony says, putting a hand over his heart as though wounded. "I will have you know, I am an accomplished engineer, and with engineering comes plenty of hard work."

"I dunno," Steve says, raising an eyebrow. "So far all the engineering work I've seen is running your mouth and waving your hands."

"Har har." Tony rolls his eyes. "You're a regular comedian. Talk about setting the mood."

"I hear I'm good at that," says Steve with something suspiciously close to a leer. Tony starts, eyebrows shooting up.

"... that, okay, I'll give you that one."

Steve opens his mouth to reply but gets rather rudely interrupted by a series of sneezes, ones that trigger another coughing fit where Tony stands helplessly by his side until he remembers the spare inhaler the blond told him to keep in his bag.

"Well," he says once it's over, "I'd tell you off about the jacket but I think you're learning your lesson the hard way."

Steve sniffles. "Uh huh." Tony carefully tucks away the inhaler as he moves to the entrance and holds the door open. "Ladies first," he says, grinning. Tony scoffs but walks in anyways.

"You're ridiculous," he starts to say, but Steve interrupts him with a kiss and a statement: "You know I love you."

And all Tony manages in reply is a soft, pleased little sound as Steve ducks into the warm room after him.

"Iron Man!"

Tony nearly jumps a foot in the air, hindered only by the suit as he jerks and jars his shoulders with unmoving padded metal and circuitry. He swears quietly before turning around to face the vaguely familiar voice.

"Capkiller!" he says brightly, swallowing back his frustration and longing as he sets eyes on the new recruit. "Or is it still Porcupine?"

Porcupine shrugs, gunmetal armor reflecting harsh flourescent lights as it moves. "I'm still officially a spiny rodent, but my secondary title is Capkiller. Which is nearly as good."

"Hey, good for you," says Tony, wanting desperately to be anywhere but here, especially considering what he's waiting for.

"So what are you hanging around for?" asks Porcupine the Capkiller, interested. The armor covers the upper half of his face and most of his body, some sort of black chain mail showing between metal plates. There are dozens of tiny holes scattered across the plates - on a good day, Tony would want nothing more than to figure out how he managed to summon foot-long metal quills from the skintight armor. "Big name villain and all, wandering the Doctor's halls. Don't you have your own wing of the castle?"

"I do," Tony agrees absently. Does the newbie think that carefully cultivated stubble looks good? It really ruins the smooth look of the armor. "Speaking of, you should drop by sometime. Show me your quills. I've got some test dummies and things modeled after those dogs SHIELD keeps around."

"Really?" He grins, revealing nicotine-stained teeth with a wide smile. His deep brown eyes gleam through the eye slits of his helmet. Tony wonders why he decided to join the biggest group of mass murderers and thieves-for-hire on the planet. "That'd be great! When?"

Tony waves a hand. "I'll call you."

Somehow, he perks up even more. Kind of like a puppy when you tell him he gets a treat for good behaviour. It almost makes Tony not want to give him a proverbial kick in the ribs later, but he knows at some point he'll have to. Such is life. It's a shame the guy chose Iron Man as the subject of his hero (?) worship. Idolatry, perhaps. Poor kid.

Just then, the doors to Doom's throne room swing open with a (melodramatic, overly maintained) menacing creak. The space inside is dark.

"Come forth, Iron Man," Doom's voice booms. "We have important matters to discuss."

"Bye," Tony tosses to the new guy before obeying the commands given to him.

The doors slam shut behind him, leaving him in total darkness the HUD stuggles to compensate for. He really hates Doom's flare for dramatics when faced with new recruits.

One beam of light flicks on, shining down on the figure of Doctor Doom, slouched artfully on his throne. He waves a metal hand in a "come hither" gesture.

Tony obeys silently.

"Your missiles were few," Doom finally states. Tony shrugs.

"You asked for the newest stuff I've been working on," he answers. "That was it."

"You'll be making more of those for me." An idle command, almost nonchalant if not for the note of severity, the do-not-argue undertone that helped win him his throne.

"Fine," says Tony, not bothering to put away the sour tone. "Did you fulfill your end of the deal?"

"I did." Another hand wave, and a Doombot dressed exactly the same as the man himself clomps up to Tony's armor. It offers him an object the approximate shape and size of a remote control. "This is your tracker," he continued as Tony accepts it. "It will tell you precisely on a map his location. This is a live feed."

Tony examines the tracking device. It's ninety percent screen, ten percent buttons for adjustment. He fiddles a little, allowing the map to zoom in close enough that he can read street names. The street names of an area in Brooklyn.

"Do remember, Iron Man," Doom drawls, "that I have this same technology, and should you push too far I will not hesitate to, say, pay a visit."

Tony grits his teeth. "I'll start your missiles tomorrow," he promises.

"Excellent." Yet another hand wave. "You may go."

Tony hurries out of the League HQ, fiddling with the device as he goes. It narrows further and further until he can see the shapes of buildings, the place marks of trees and sidewalks.

The first thing he sees, and registers with such relief his knees might have buckled if not for the suit, is that the blue dot that represents Steve is moving. It moves from one end of what must be a room to another, surrounded by grey dots that represent people not registered in the system. Tony thinks he might cry, until he realizes something else and feels his heart stop.

That blue dot is moving around in a registered SHIELD facility.