Twenty minutes ago, he'd been jogging peaceably along the sparsely populated sidewalk, taking in the warm sun and calm mid-afternoon atmosphere. The most pressing matter on his mind had been trying to decide if he should bother trying to get Tony into the sushi bar across the street from the park, or if he should just cut his losses and herd his partner to the nearest hotdog stand.
Hotdogs where the easy option. Fast, filling and incredibly tasty. They also meant at least six inappropriate jokes or innuendoes, several obscene gestures and the distinct possibility of Steve turning them into a public spectacle by ravishing Tony and his teasing mouth. Again.
Sushi had the health benefits, with the added perk of being one of Tony's favourite dishes, so there would be little coaxing needed. But with a cross-park journey of more than a few feet needed to reach their destination, Tony was liable to get distracted by any number of inconvenient/unexpected or ridiculous things. They'd be lucky to make it to the bar, period, let alone in a timely manner.
And Steve really wanted Tony to eat lunch.
Technically, they'd all eaten breakfast at 6am.
With Natasha's efficient assistance, Steve had cooked a veritable smorgasbord of bacon, eggs, hash and toast, which the majority of the team had set upon with varying levels of unbridled enthusiasm.
Tony's mutilation of a piece of toast while he'd demolished a gallon of coffee hadn't really been what Steve would consider 'eating breakfast' but, at the time, with Tony bleary eyed and of less than sunny disposition, Steve had decided to pick his battles wisely.
He also knew that Tony likely hadn't eaten since, and so had decided to surprise his boyfriend, who was hopefully in a better mood and awake, (and very agreeable to escaping undercover duty) with lunch in the park. Or maybe he'd just wanted to see Tony Stark in a polo and khaki's.
And then the ground had shook, and all consideration of parks and breakfast and inappropriate public behaviour and sushi and coffee and t-shirts and hotdogs had flown from his mind, leaving only one solitary thought behind.
Tony.
Within minutes, the quiet Sunday afternoon had turned into a cacophony of panicked shouting, grinding concrete, rumbling earth and screeching brakes. Attempted to ride out the shuddering vibrations on his feet, Steve crouched low to the ground, but continued moving, his concern outweighing his instinct to crumble to the relative stability of the ground.
Fishing in his pocket for a moment, Steve pulled out his sleek silver and red Starkphone, setting his thumb to the read-screen even as he ran. A soft ding indicated that it was unlocked, but the large red NO that was displayed across most of the screen (courtesy of said phone's designer no doubt), showed the complete lack of signal.
The lines had to be down. That was the guarantee – the phone would find signal, unless there was no signal to find.
A shuddering screech of breaks sounded from almost directly behind him, and Steve spun around in time to see a car plough into another in an attempt to avoid an overhead street sign that crashed to the ground in a spray of sparks and plastic shards.
Even as he stilled, some small dark part of himself urged Steve to just ignore the man struggling to open the half crushed passenger door. To leave the young woman and her two children crying in other car. Something pushed him to just get to Tony.
The crushed door parted from it hinges like butter, and he tossed it to the ground with a clatter. Hurrying around to the second car, he helped the young mother from behind the wheel, setting her on unsteady feet, before he turned toward the children, crying and upset in the rear of the vehicle.
He couldn't leave them. Certainly not for Tony. Not because of Tony. Tony would never forgive him, and Steve couldn't say he'd blame him.
In a relatively short span of time, but eons to a man worried about his own loved ones, the children were safely ensconced in their mother's arms.
Released from his responsibility, Steve turned and, neatly sidestepping a young couple hugging on the sidewalk, took off down the street.
Ignoring the last grumbling shudders of the earth beneath him, and the strain of concrete as the ground settled, Steve cut around the nearest corner, abandoning his gentle meandering path for the most direct route.
Lengthening his strides from a lope to a full sprint that rapidly ate up distance, he turned a sharp left, into a darkened alley, only to narrowly avoid a head on collision with a woman who suddenly appeared from a concealed doorway.
"Please! Please Sir, Tommy! The stairs have collapsed-" She was shouting, frantically gesturing to the apartment she'd come from.
Get to Tony.
Steve followed her inside, bounding up the crumbling staircase, and vaulting the six foot gap, he reached the second floor with ease.
Looking around, Steve called down to the elderly woman waiting anxiously below, "Ma'am, where is-"
A large ginger cat padded across the carpeted floor and wound its way around his ankles.
"…let me guess. Tommy."
Seeing the look of complete and utter adoration on the part of the woman's face that wasn't smooshed into ginger fur, Steve couldn't even find it in himself to be angry.
Only concerned for the subject of his own adoration.
An expanse of greenery loomed up before him, out-of-place amidst the concrete greys of the cityscape, and feeling the first touch of not-quite-relief, Steve hurtled over a chunk of dislodged sidewalk, and hurried toward the park.
The park was, putting it bluntly, not overly aesthetically pleasing anymore. Limbs had been torn from trees, taking other branches in their fall to the ground below. Green vegetation was scattered messily across the usually pristine grass. Several small cracks and chasms had split the earth, creating a fine spider-web like lacework across the play area.
There were a few small groups of people, huddled around picnic tables, most likely tending to those with minor injuries. Scratches and bruises, with the occasional bump to the head or broken limb scattered throughout.
Steve huffed a breath of concern as his gaze swept the closest areas, searching for any sign of Tony, Clint or Natasha, but finding none. In fact, there was very little movement at all. No one was milling about aimlessly, seemingly lost for what to do, as Steve had seen on the streets before. In fact – where wa-
At the far side of the park, his gaze settled on the large group of people huddled by the river's edge. Even from such a distance, Steve could feel the tension and excitement that wreathed the crowd, a buzz indicative of peril.
Knowing Tony as he did, he knew his lover wouldn't be anywhere other than in the thick of things, taking charge, and offering the kind of assistance that only Tony Stark could.
Feeling tension mounting in his own breast, Steve set off at a quick sprint across the park, making his way directly toward them.
As he drew closer, he caught a glimpse of two heads bobbing above the water, through the milling crowd. They were some twenty feet out from the bank, and instantly recognisable, one a water-darkened red, and the other a sodden tawny mess.
Of course they were in the water. It wasn't like any of them to stand idly by when help was needed. His eyes swept the people closest to the water's edge, searching for Tony, knowing his lover would be nearby, directing whatever rescue was occurring.
Only he wasn't.
And if he wasn't on the bank…Steve wondered at what desperate act of incredible brave stupidity had led to Tony willingly enter the river.
Closing in on the group, his hearing started to pick up on the general buzz of the crowd, and snatches of what he heard all but froze the breath in his chest.
He waited for that third head to appear, chestnut, darkened to near black.
Only it didn't.
Or, and his heart shuddered a jolting staccato beat in his chest, or, in the thick of things, finding trouble as only Tony Stark could.
As he reached the riverbank, Steve saw Clint disappear back beneath the water, and seeing Natasha preparing to do the same, he jumped in with a haphazard splash, no time to calculate the dive.
He called, "Natasha!", as he stroked strongly toward her, only relaxing the minutest amount when she turned toward him, because she didn't look calm and self-assured like Natasha always looked.
She looked relieved.
And then she disappeared beneath the surface.
Only to resurface a second later with an equally relieved looking Clint by her side.
As Steve slowed to an anxious stop beside them, Natasha explained, quickly and efficiently, "Tony is trapped beneath a rock. He's injured. We don't know the extent. He's having a flashback instigated by touching the reactor. We've been trying to breathe for him, but he's panicking. Hurry. "
The last thing Steve heard as he dove beneath the surface was Clint calling, "Just swim straight down!"
Steve swam straight down.
His searching gaze lit on the dark mass of the rock, and his eyes widened in horror at the sheer size of the thing, at the idea that Tony was beneath that.
As he caught sight of movement from the corner of his peripheral vision, Steve thanked the stars, and any deity who would listen, for his enhanced abilities. Using the fluttering fingers and pale skinned arm as a beacon, he skimmed around the edge of the rock.
His enhanced 'gifts' suddenly became more of a curse, as he was met with the image of the one person he'd chosen to love most in the world, absolutely and utterly terrified.
Even in the murkiest patches of water, Steve could still see sickly parchment grey skin, stretch taught across Tony fear pinched face. His eyes were closed, more than just closed…clenched, letting in no one and nothing, except the horror of whatever nightmare he was living in.
And there was blood.
Even in the constant movement of the water surrounding him, blood was still managing to spread its way down Tony's left arm, staining across his flank, and floating off into the water in thin tendrils of muted brown.
Steve reached for him, his hand itching to shove the rock away and cradle Tony against his chest, but instead he settled for placing a hand over Tony's right side, reassuring, comforting, soothing.
Tony started violently beneath his touch, and Steve pulled back immediately, terrified that he'd inadvertently pressed on an injury, but his lover was still again.
And then, as Steve watched, Tony simply opened his mouth, and breathed.
Breathed in revolting, filthy river water.
Steve didn't even truly think, he just knew he had to get Tony to stop, and lunging forward, he wrapped one hand around his lover's throat, and squeezed, blocking all attempts at breathing in.
Desperately needing Tony to snap out of it- to realise where he was and who was with him, Steve shoved down with a hand across Tony's upper chest, settled carefully above the cotton concealed arc reactor.
His heart ached at being the cause of the blanch of pure agony that stole across Tony's face, but then brown eyes were open and looking at him, and looking through him, huge and dark with memories of terror, and even with only one hand free, Tony fought against him.
Savagely.
And Steve knew that Tony wasn't seeing him. Wasn't seeing Steve, but it still broke his heart to know that Tony was trapped in the darkn-
Darkness.
Tony wasn't seeing anything.
Steve ripped the cotton shirt away from the arc rector, flooding the small area around them with a hazy grey light.
Tony stilled, his eyes going wide and disbelieving, and Steve swam slightly closer, trying to prove, to show, that it was him, that he was here, and that everything would be okay.
And then Tony was seeing him, and all Steve could think was breathe.
The hand that had been locked around his lovers throat in a bruising, crushing grip, slid around to cradle the weight of Tony's head, and leaning forward, Steve sealed his lips over Tony's, almost crying in relief when the oxygen that he offered was eagerly accepted.
Steve was aware of the fact that he had to surface again. For several reasons, one of those being the urgent need to breathe more air for Tony. But he found that he just could not let go, and from the strength of the fist that was clenched in his shirt, he doubted Tony would be all that agreeable to the suggestion either.
But he needed to surface. Clint and Natasha were waiting. They needed to discuss the rock- what if it was keeping Tony from bleeding out? He needed to know how far away back-up was.
Steve had just pressed his lips to Tony's again, in preparation of pulling away, when a hand landed on his shoulder, and saved him the trouble.
Clint. Tapping Morse code on his shoulder.
S-H-I-E-L-D
S.H.I.E.L.D was there, and that meant it was time to go.
Turning to Tony, Steve tapped out the same message on his lovers cheek, and on the third attempt, Tony was alert enough to understand it, if his woozy eager nod was anything to go by.
Pressing a final kiss to Tony's lips, Steve reluctantly pulled away, gesturing Clint in to take his place. With obvious gestures and a mash up of morse and sigh language, Steve demonstrated how he wanted Clint to be ready to carefully pull Tony free once he'd lifted the rock.
And then, praying that the rock hadn't impaled/crushed/severed or broken Tony's lower body, Steve swam above it, set his hands on each side, and lifted.
His muscles bulged, and he strained against the weight, but as if they'd practiced it a hundred times, the rock lifted, and Clint slid Tony free of its shadow with nary more than a slight tug.
Steve dropped the rock with a fair amount of shove for good riddance, and turned to where Clint was keeping Tony floating carefully against the river bed.
Seeing that Steve was more than ready to go, and knowing that his job here was done, Clint pressed his lips to Tony's one last time, imparting a final lungful of oxygen and then the archer kicked for the surface as Steve carefully gathered his lovers trembling body into a gentle cradle and swam smoothly upward.
Clint broke the surface first, swimming strongly for the bank where Natasha was already ashore.
The black uniforms of SHIELD officers had set up a human barricade between the crowd and the water's edge, both for the safety of the citizens, and for the safety of the people performing the rescue.
Paddling forward, Clint took in the sheer size of the crowd, and had to wonder how news had travelled so fast when as far as he knew, most communication systems had been down. But travel it had – the crowd was probably 150 people strong, and still growing.
And he supposed, a daring rescue of the man who had almost thrown his life away to save a child was big news, and better news than was usually heard.
As Clint stood in the shallows and waded forward, he was pretty sure that his beaming smile told the state of the current situation better than any words he could find, but he tried anyway, "Steve has him- "
It was an unneeded explanation though, because as Natasha grasped his hand and pulled him from the water, Steve broke the surface several meters out, the waterlogged form in his arms visibly alive and moving.
The crowd broke out into deafening cheers.
Clint didn't know if they were cheering for the rescue, cheering for the man who had save the child, or cheering for the apparent happy ending that had come about against all odds. Perhaps it was a combination of all three, but regardless, there was whistling and clapping, underpinned by the echo of constant rousing whooping.
Clint found himself smiling.
Between them, he and Natasha managed to get Steve up the bank and onto dry land with no unnecessary jolts, and standing to his full height, the Captain pulled Tony more securely into his embrace.
The paleness of Tony's face, the pinch around blue tinged lips and the gentle tremble that shivered through his own body, but did not originate in it, were enough to set Steve on his way, searching for the promised medical help.
The flashing lights of the Shield Medi-vac vehicle beckoned from just beyond the crowd, and several non-descript, black-clad agents started efficiently clearing a path through, most of the gathered people willingly stepped aside with a proud nod as Steve and Tony passed.
There's always one though.
"Sir's! Sirs, can I ask you a few questions! I'm with the Herald! Is it true- you jumped in after a young girl?!" The man pushed his way to the front of the crowd, shouting his questions from just the far side of the S.H.I.E.L.D barricade.
Clint surged forward, ready to shove the man back, possibly with a well-placed knuckle sandwich, but it was too late, the reporter was still shouting, "Do you know each other – is that why you saved hi- Oh My God, It's Tony Stark!"
The crow perked up like sharks after chum had been thrown in the water, buzzing conversations burning the Avengers ears as the hurried through the sudden gauntlet.
'-tark, must have been a camera nearby!'
'Maybe he just fell in. – '
'He's a good person –No, really!'
'Maybe he grabbed the girl trying to save himself!'
'Didn't you see him save those people over the river- hooked 'em up like connect-a-monkey!'
'Why the hell would Tony Stark try to save a child1?'
Tony was too gone with pain care beyond trying to save a little face, his eyes where held at half-mast through sheer force of will, and little hitched panting breath's where consciously muffled against Steve's chest.
Steve was too worried to take offence, his entire world, and all his ability to care, completely consumed by the man whose blood was starting to stain his clothes.
Natasha was fuming, but had her hands full bullying the suddenly braying crowd out of the way, determination shoving aside the anger, needing to get Tony to the waiting help.
Clint was blind with rage.
Stepping up, he let loose a piercing whistle between fingers and clenched teeth. The crowd spun to face him.
"That man," he gestured to Steve's back, but obviously meaning Tony, "-Is the bravest, most selfless, completely ridiculous asshole I've ever met. Three years ago he flew a nuke through a one-way wormhole to outer space to save a city and millions of lives. Today, he jumped into a mud-swollen river to save the life of one little girl. Who knows who he'll be saving next week? It could be you."
The crowd had gone deathly silent, all eyes riveted on Clint as he spoke, his voice infused with such pride that it was unmistakable to the ear as he finished, "He's Ironman. He's Tony Fucking Stark. He's a goddamn superhero."
A/N- Hope you enjoyed. If so, please review :)
Here comes the Stony angst/fluff.