so... I would like to say both sorry and thank you to everyone who has stuck around until now and whose reviews I maybe haven't replied to. I've had a lot going on and couldn't seem to find concentration for more than little one-shots, I finished school, got sick, got better, it was all a bit of a mess, really. But you're not here for the author's note, so accept these cookies and tissues - you might need them - and have fun. I hope to be updating more regularly again!
"Is that supposed to be funny?"
Tony winced at Barton's sharp tone in his ear.
"You hear me laughing?" he replied just as snappily. "It's gone. It's gone and Selvig is, too."
"I wonder who might have taken it," the archer drawled. "Need help figuring it out, Sherlock?"
"Up yours, Barton," the inventor griped sourly.
"Boys," Romanov cut in, "this is really not the time."
Acidly, Barton responded: "All I'm saying is that it's awfully convenient that the only thing able to stop all this just happened to go missing, don't you think?"
Tony exhaled a sharp breath and responded sharply: "Look, I can't help it if you don't want to trust me, but the sceptre's gone. We can stand around here dithering some more or we could actually do something." He stepped away from Loki and looked around while he activated the thrusters. "I'm gonna try and do some damage control and keep my eyes open, there's no use in discussing this."
Loki cleared his throat. "I believe I might have a better chance at finding it," he remarked. "I can sense it when I'm close enough." He spun in a circle and stared up at the sky, tensing as a new batch of the Chitauri creatures spilled from the crack in the sky.
The inventor nodded, swallowing, while he prepared himself to try the armour out in combat for the first time. Originally, he had simply made it for the challenge of it since there was no actual need for anything else in Asgard; he'd wanted the rush of flying and something to do with his hands.
Of course, once that was done, he had continued with all the materials he had; now, he ought to be able to hold his own in combat just fine.
"Here we go," he muttered to himself and took aim with one repulsor so he could blast one of the aliens clear off its craft. It made a shrieking sound as it tumbled down toward the ground.
He didn't watch it landing.
Instead, he turned in the air and tried desperately to remember the layout of the city.
"I'm gonna try and clear out some of the larger public spaces around here," he announced. "Loki, you go look for the sceptre, and quickly, please, because I doubt we're gonna hold these things off for long with like five people and a bunch of confused cops."
The Chitauri were already flooding the streets and there were hundreds of them; he was alone. He would have to focus on clearing hotspots where people would be gathered so he could save as many as possible; while it was harsh and he'd like nothing better than to dive down and just help whoever he could, Tony knew he was going to be able to help more people if he tried to do it with some sort of strategy.
And with something this big? He'd have to try and think in numbers. It wasn't cold. It was just what was best.
Right?
Determined not to waste any more time, he headed toward the closest large public space he could remember, taking out as many Chitauri on the way as he managed. This was very different from anything he had ever tried while he was in Asgard. He hadn't been in any actual mortal danger while he practised there as long as he took care not to crash into the castle. This? This could get really ugly really fast.
Well. It wasn't like he had much of a choice.
From the moment he descended on the first crowded crossroads, filled with people panicking in their cars like honking at each other was going to help anybody, time began to pass in a blur. Soon, he was shouting instructions while trying to keep the Chitauri at bay – they were swarming the place like flies that were hard to swat away, it was maddening. Crowd control wasn't exactly a piece of cake, either; there were people who were happy to have someone to tell them what to do, and others who were so hysteric they didn't even seem to notice him at all.
He kept trying.
After what couldn't have been too long, he spotted the quinjet descending into the streets a few blocks away and allowed himself a short, relieved exhale before he focussed back on what he had been doing before. Help was nice, sure, but that didn't mean he could start slacking now. Seven – no, six, without Banner – people to cover an entire city weren't exactly chances that made him feel too optimistic.
So he continued, only distantly paying attention to the talk on the comms. It was mostly the Avengers interacting with each other, nothing that was directed at him, so he kept his focus on the people.
It took up a lot of his attention, but not enough to distract him from the fact that this was utterly hopeless. Sure, he was going to keep doing what he could, but the numbers of their attackers seemed endless. Something had to happen, soon, or they were done for.
"I found Selvig."
Well, maybe gods did listen to prayers occasionally. The flicker of a smile passed Tony's face when he heard Loki's voice.
"With the sceptre?" he asked, his movements never slowing.
Loki's voice sounded a little tense when he answered, slow like he was trying to sound non-threatening. "Indeed. It seems like Thanos has used his influence over it to take control of Selvig. He won't give it up."
"Selvig is a friend of mine," Thor boomed over the comms and Tony winced at the thunderer's loud voice in his ear. "You will not lay a finger on him, Loki!"
Now, the younger god just sounded annoyed. "I was not planning to. As I said before, I do not wish to expose myself to the sceptres influence again, someone who was not –" Indistinctly, Tony could hear another man's voice in the background before Loki's channel turned off abruptly.
"Loki?" he asked, alarmed. "Lokes?"
Something slammed into him from behind hard enough to throw him off-balance and Tony cursed his moment of inattentiveness while he struggled to stay in the air, flailing for a moment. More by luck than anything else, he managed to land a shot against the Chitauri who had knocked him from his course and gained a brief moment of respite.
"Loki!" he repeated, slightly frantic. He had just gotten Loki back.
There was no answer from the god, however, Romanov spoke up: "I'm on my way to him, calm down. Focus, Stark."
"I am focussed," he snapped, narrowly dodging a shot fired at him. "Just- hurry, okay?"
There were some beats of silence over the comm while Tony mechanically continued fighting off aliens left and right, then Romanov replied in a strangely gentle tone: "I will."
After that, the only talk in his ear piece were the Avengers coordinating with each other, Rogers barking orders and Clint giving out information about positions and movements. Tony operated by himself, mostly, although he was glad for what little clarity over the situation he got from the others' status reports.
It didn't look good.
"We've got the sceptre," Romanov announced suddenly.
"Is Loki alright?" Tony demanded immediately, turning in the air to look back at Stane fucking Tower as though there was any chance he would catch a glimpse of what was happening.
"He's fine," she replied, clipped, and the relief washing over him was almost enough to completely draw his attention away from the battlefield. "Said his magic short-circuited the comms."
"Fuckin' magic," the inventor muttered, though it was with a laugh in his voice.
"Damn straight," Barton added. "Cap, there's someone coming at you from- what the fuck?"
"Hawkeye? Coming from where? What is it?" Rogers demanded.
It sounded like the archer was scrambling for both his words and a new position as he answered. "Fucking- space whales, what the ever-loving fuck, get the fuck out of there, Jesus Christ –"
Tony turned to look up at the portal and felt his breath catch in his lungs at the creatures making their way through it. Really, he couldn't have put it better than Barton just did. This was way too high above his pay grade.
He pushed down his mounting panic, tried to clear his head, and looked around. He knew the quinjet had dropped the others off somewhere near the tower, which was exactly where the portal was. "Barton, where are you?"
"Trying to get off the goddamn roof," came the strained answer and Tony rose a little higher until he spotted the small figure of the archer on the edge of a skyscraper.
"And how the hell are you gonna do that?" he asked, already heading toward Barton quickly.
"Grappling arrow, I got this."
"No you don't. I'm coming to get you, stay where you are."
He hadn't expected such a violent response. "I said I got this, don't you fucking touch me, Stark!" Barton snapped. Tony hadn't quite reached him yet, but was close enough to see him notch an arrow onto the bowstring and pull it taught.
With a scowl, he responded sharply: "Get over yourself, Barton, we're on the same fucking team and one of these things is coming right fucking at you." He came to a halt hovering over the roof beside the archer, then dropped down onto the concrete with a clang. "Hold on," he ordered and sighed in frustration when Barton backed away, shaking his head.
"No fucking way, I'm not letting another Asgardian f–"
"I'm not an Aesir, for fuck's sake, Barton, we gotta get off the fucking roof!" Tony cut him off, flinging an arm out toward the- the space whale, for lack of a better word, which was nearing the building with almost lazy, gliding movements which made no fucking sense whatsoever, floating in the air as it was.
The archer was about to respond when Romanov spoke up, just one clipped, sharp "Clint!" that made his mouth click shut and his jaw set.
"Fine," he ground out. "Better make it quick."
"Hold on," Tony told him again, and a moment later, he was rising into the air again, a little clumsy with the unusual extra weight, but quickly bringing some distance between them and the building before the Chitauri whale crashed into the skyscraper with a horrifying sound of splintering glass and crumbling concrete. "Fuck," Tony breathed quietly, his head spinning with the awareness that the building hadn't been cleared out. It was nauseating. "Where should I drop you off?" he asked, directed at Barton, who was clinging to him.
"Main event," the archer responded, his voice tight with anger which Tony didn't think was directed at him. "Stane Tower."
"Fucking hate that name," the inventor muttered, but complied. He'd take any excuse to check up on Loki.
Even with the additional weight, they reached the Tower in less than a minute, never having strayed far from it in the first place. The door to the roof banged open just as they landed, Barton detaching himself from the armour as quickly as he could, while Romanov hurried out onto the roof, Loki on her heels with long strides. The SHIELD agent had the sceptre clutched in one hand and Loki was eyeing it warily.
Then, as though the situation hadn't been overwhelming enough as it was, several things happened in quick succession.
First, there was a roar ringing out from the streets below that left everyone shaken to the core, a guttural, deep sound, and when Tony turned toward it, he could see one of the Chitauri whale creatures crumpling to the ground, its plated armour shifting and creaking like something had brought it to an abrupt stop it wasn't equipped to handle. Whatever it was had occurred a few blocks over and the whale disappeared between the buildings as it sank onto the ground, but Tony was unable to make out the cause of the whole startling event.
Secondly, their comms crackled to life with Fury's voice barking: "Avengers, I need you all to get out of there ASAP!" Barton spoke out the "why?" they were all thinking with a frown and the SHIELD director responded with a curt, grim: "The council is nuking NYC."
And thirdly, the door to the roof inched open again to let another person step out – and out of everything that was piling up right then, that was what made the blood drain from Tony's face so quickly he felt dizzy, grateful for the armour holding him up.
"Somebody tell me what the hell is going on here!" the man demanded, but before anyone else could deign the exclamation with a response, Tony did.
"Obie?"
The man turned toward him, a scowl etched into his face. "And who are you supposed to be?"
Tony was astonished for a moment until he realised he was still decked out in the suit, mask and all. There was no way Obie would be able to recognise him like this – and Tony felt frozen, for all that he'd been moving and in action before, busying himself so he didn't have the time to think and panic, right now, he didn't know what to do.
He lifted the faceplate shakily, never took his eyes away from Obie for even a second as he watched the frown morph into an expression of surprise, then incredulity. Tony had thought he'd find it more satisfying than this.
"But you- I thought you were..."
"Dead?" Tony finished sharply. "Yeah, that would have been convenient for you, wouldn't it? Maybe you should have shot me right away instead of being so greedy you had to take not only the company, but whatever you got for me, too. Then we wouldn't have this whole," he waved an arm over the roof, "awkward situation."
He could see Obadiah's calculating glance sweeping over the roof, all eyes fixed on him all of sudden, and a moment later, he was laughing and coming toward Tony with a wide smile.
"Tony, kid, what are you talking about? I was worried sick about you, I'm so glad you're back."
"Oh, are you?" Tony gave him a grin that felt more like he was baring his teeth in warning. "Because the last time I checked, I was a spoiled little brat who was supposed to die in an ambush and who you fucking sold off when that didn't work out. But do feel free to refresh my memory a little. It's been a while after all."
Obie shook his head. "Tony, you're confused, you know I only want what's best for you, I'm –"
"Take one step closer and I blast you of the fucking roof," the inventor interrupted and he hated the tremor in his voice and hands – although the latter was concealed by the suit – when he raised an arm to point a repulsor at Obie. "You'd better not fucking touch me."
From the side, he could see Loki take a small step closer toward Obadiah while the man froze in his tracks. Loki's expression was unreadable and for a moment, nobody moved.
Some part of him had waited for this moment, Tony realised, had waited to confront Obadiah and pay him back for everything he'd done; throw everything that had happened in his face and wait for him to justify himself. There was a part of him that wanted to run and hide, but an even bigger one just under the surface was waiting to scream and rage and let out what had been building up for almost two years now. Everything that had happened, the warm, humming reactor in his chest, the scars littering his body, the flash of fear whenever someone raised their voice or a hand around him, he would have to deal with none of that if not for Obadiah.
He said none of that.
He didn't have the time, not right now, the rest of the world wasn't going to stop turning so he could have a breakdown. Later, he promised himself. He would have this confrontation later.
Instead, he said very quietly: "You have no idea how much I want to push you off this roof right now. But you know what, I'm not going to, because here's the difference between us, I'm better than that, Obie."
"I'm not," Loki cut in before Obadiah had a chance to respond, his voice cold in a way that Tony had rarely ever heard. "So if I see you do so much as look at Anthony in a way I dislike, know that I have given you a warning and you will not be given another."
That seemed to help Obadiah find his words again. "Now look, I'm sure we can..."
"If you say we can talk about it, then Obie, I swear to god, I'm gonna make up my mind and shoot you," Tony snapped.
The rest of the team, who had been watching the exchange silently thus far, seemed to come back to motion slowly, Rogers ahead of everyone else as he spoke up: "stark, do you want to explain –"
"Look, Captain, I'd love to have a chat, but there's a nuke heading for New York and an army of aliens swarming the streets, could we save the pleasantries for later?" Tony interrupted him. "I need you to lead your team. I've got an idea about the nuke, but these things are starting to absolutely swarm the city, you might wanna do something about that. And somebody should check in on doctor Banner."
"Doctor Banner?" Barton echoed. As if in response, another ear-shattering roar rang out through the street and Barton winced. "Ah."
"Yeah," Tony agreed. The sound had shaken him out of his motionless state and he cast one last long look at Obie before he turned away. "Director Fury, can I get an ETA on that missile?"
"You have about five minutes. Closer to four," came the reply in his ear. "You wanna share with the class, Stark?"
"Not right now, no," Tony answered. "Just – Romanov?"
"What?" She was looking at him out of narrowed eyes, as if she was trying to figure him out. Tony liked to think that he wasn't quite that easy.
"Don't close the portal just yet."
He snapped his faceplate shut. It was time to get moving again, he couldn't stand around here all day, his personal crisis could take the back seat for now. If he'd learned anything since this whole mess had begun, it was functioning until he had a more or less safe space to let go. And right now, he desperately needed to function.
"Why would I not close the portal?" she demanded, gesturing upwards at the Chitauri still pouring out. "We've got the sceptre, we can stop it!"
Tony shook his head. "You can't stop it, you can delay it, the army's still gonna be there." He took a steadying breath and closed the face plate of his suit. "But I know just where to put our missile." He was already a foot in the air when he saw the realisation on Loki's face and watched him turn sharply.
"Anthony, get back down here!"
"I'm gonna be right back, it's gonna be fine," he responded with an ease in his tone that he didn't feel. "But somebody's got to take care of it, we can't let them level a city full of people."
"Anthony, don't you dare!" Loki was shouting now, Tony could see the flicker of magic dancing around his hands, but he knew Loki couldn't actually do anything unless he wanted to damage the suit and cause Tony to crash down into the street. "Thor, get him down!"
I should have kissed him goodbye, he mused with a lump in his throat. It was unfair, really, that nothing ever seemed to work out in their favour. Something or someone always seemed determined to get between them, and each time Tony felt more helpless to do something about it, each time it seemed more unmanageable.
There was no use in whining about it, he supposed.
Tony cast another look down at Loki, at Thor holding him back, Obadiah who still left a sour taste in his mouth and the rest of the team, who the Captain was starting to shepherd together into some semblance of order, then he turned in the air and sped toward the edge of the city.
He really, really should have kissed Loki goodbye.