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cap_ironman2013-12-29 01:30 pm
cap_ironman_fe) wrote in cap_ironman2013-12-29 01:30 pm
Secret Santa: Commander's Care
Merry Month of December: iloome
Title: Commander's Care
Rating: T
Universe: 616-ish; it's the Commander Rogers/Director Stark AU
Warnings: none
From: AssistedRealityInterface / Agentvictoriahand
Steve always felt like there was something worse about the missions Tony took as Director now, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
He sat at his desk and sifted through the files of the last six missions Tony had been on with a frown. Nothing was out of place regarding the usual suspects; he’d squared off with AIM, HYDRA, and a few other assorted local terrorist militias. And he’d brought the armor on every mission as well, so it wasn’t as if he was defenseless.
Perhaps it was the lack of their more ridiculous nemeses that had Steve worried?
He rubbed his temples and thought. Well, it wasn’t like Batroc or the Unicorn were going to show up demanding their attention as members of S.H.I.E.L.D., so perhaps the lack of light ‘relief villains,’ for want of a better word, really was making him worry. Tony had been going up against the worst of the worst nonstop for about six months now.
But even then, that didn’t feel quite right…
“Steve?”
He jumped halfway out of his chair and looked up to see Maria watching him. He straightened himself up and saluted her. “Ma’am.”
“Tony’s on-location in Beirut,” she said, shaking her head. “Thought you might want to know.”
“That’s it,” he murmured, making her cock her head.
“What are you talking about?” she asked. Steve smiled.
“Nothing, Vice-Director, nothing,” he said. “I think I just found an answer to my question, that’s all.”
Maria shook her head and sighed. “Anything you say, Steve. Call me if you need help re-filing this mess. I’ll send someone.”
“Thank you,” he said as she turned to leave. “Any clue when Tony will be back?”
“Not even remotely,” she said with a sigh and a smile. “I don’t think this one will take him too long. We’ve been running him ragged lately, haven’t we?”
“We have,” he murmured idly, settling in with a frown and re-opening the file that he’d had out before him as she left.
He ended up working late without quite realizing; it was only when Maria brought him in sympathy takeout that he understood.
“It’s ten, Steve,” she said. “At least eat something.”
“Right,” he agreed, looking over what had to be at least half of the Chinese takeaway’s menu.
“Thanks for remembering.”
“What, your overactive metabolism? Tony was telling me once about how you ate an entire tub of ice cream in a sitting during movie night and then complained when he didn’t share his,” Maria said with a little laugh. Steve at least had the decency to blush.
“Brat,” he mumbled, but there was no genuine anger in his tone as he undid the paper tops. “You’re welcome to stay, Vice-Director.”
“What? No, absolutely not, I’m heading home,” she said with a little laugh. “Thanks for the offer, though. If something goes awry, I’m always on call.”
“Thank you, Vice-Director,” he said, watching her leave with a sigh as he turned back to the work and his takeout.
The ‘filed’ stack had become higher than the ‘unfiled’ by the time Steve checked the clock again. He frowned. Midnight.
On days without trauma or high periods of stress, he could go with four hour’s sleep and be fine, and he was almost done…
Steve nodded, like that decided it, and settled in to finish up the work with a little huff,
scribbling his signature over a few things before setting it in the other bin.
It was another two hours before he heard the familiar whine of machinery and his head shot up.
“Tony!”
He grabbed his jacket and threw it over his shoulders, running outside to see the suit shining red and gold beneath the silver moonlight, the jet-boots whirring and sputtering as the suit sank down to the earth.
Steve watched, panic tight and searing hot in his chest as the jet-boots gave out for the final ten feet of the fall.
He bolted and caught Tony in the armor without quite realizing until the weight made them both hit the ground—admittedly, a much softer landing than Tony would’ve had before.
“Tony?” Steve said. “Tony, what the hell—“
“It’s all right,” he said, though the voice generator of the suit had become warped and distorted. “I’m fine, we just need to get inside.”
“You don’t look fine,” Steve protested.
“You fuss.”
“Then tell me why you won’t open the faceplate!” Steve snapped.
Tony said nothing as Steve helped him inside, throwing his arm over his broad shoulder without so much as cringing about the weight. He supported Tony the entire walk into base before asking,
“Where to, Director?”
“Christ, I don’t know. Medbay? I feel like I should at least get some iodine on this. But maybe R&D first. My armor’s shot to hell.”
“Medbay first,” Steve said. “Flesh takes priority over steel. Steel can be repaired at any time, but I’m not so sure about you.”
“Okay, fine. Medbay it is. Can you carry the armor up to R&D when I’m in?”
“Sure,” Steve said. “Not sure who’s on duty right now, but let’s see what we can do…”
He hefted Tony into his grip a little more, kissing his suit’s golden, sharp cheek without noticing; Tony wrinkled his nose inside the faceplate and tried not to smile.
“I’m glad to see you,” Steve said. “You ought to just be glad I was getting paperwork done, or you would’ve been—“
“Ooh, Captain America—excuse me, Commander Rogers—sitting down and doing paperwork? That almost qualifies as a threat to national security, what with all that can-do asskicking you’re not getting done.”
“I’m going to push you out of a window,” Steve muttered, bringing him down the stairs and into the medbay. “Hello? Anyone here?”
He sighed when his own voice echoed. “Tony? Is it a Friday?”
“In America, yeah. In Russia, it’s—“
“Stop it,” he said, helping him onto an exam table. “Get the armor off. And don’t be petulant. I promise not to yell, no matter how banged up you’ve gotten this time.”
“Really?” Tony said, the armor starting to come off at the feet to the thighs.
“I’ve found it works much bettholer with you when I’m just quietly disappointed,” Steve said with a little chuckle. Tony huffed, taking off the chestplate before detatching both his arms, setting everything aside and finally taking off his helmet in entirety.
“I don’t like it when you know my weaknesses,” Tony grumbled in vague half-protest. Steve clucked his tongue, cupping his cheek before falling silent. Tony cringed.
“Look, before you freak out—“
“Whose initials are these?” Steve asked, tracing the bloody jagged letters in Tony’s cheek. He shrugged.
“Had a team with me,” he said. “Ran into one of the local warlords. I made a deal; I’d let him take me if the rest of the team could go. They didn’t have armor—and, more importantly, they had sniper rifles.”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t ‘in service’ for long, thanks to those aforementioned sniper rifles, but long enough to go through the initiation. He was gonna add a symbol of the gang on my other cheek. Thankfully, he didn’t make it that far.”
Steve swore softly, getting up and pacing, like storming about like a lion tossing its mane in challenge would fix things. Tony snorted.
“Go get the blue wand with the silver tip over on the workbench,” he said. “That’s for closing up wounds. I’ll take it home, keep using it; should leave my face as pretty as the front pages like it.”
“You’re awful,” Steve said, but he passed the wand to Tony before wrapping an arm around him and holding him close, mindful of his other injuries. “Just bumps and bruises?”
“A couple, but I could use a brace on my left knee,” Tony said. “Landed badly during a pit-stop.”
“You flew the whole way back? What about the jet?” Steve asked, watching Tony peel off his undersuit and lay back on the exam table with a sigh, his legs dangling off the edge.
“Well, I had to actually get out of there on my own,” he said. “The team managed to snipe a few of the worst of the group, but there was no point in them sticking around to possibly get captured and killed, making my whole ‘sacrifice myself for the good of the team’ thing pointless. So we split off; team took the jet, I took the suit. I had a way to fly out of there, so why wait?”
“Because you were injured and vulnerable!” Steve snapped, grabbing the brace and lifting Tony’s leg up, fitting the black brace around him with a huff. “This is why I worry, Tony!”
“Aw, I’m touched,” Tony said with a soft laugh, cringing when it made his chest throb. “I’m the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. now, handsome. What’s got you so worried?”
Steve stood up with a sigh, climbing onto the exam table to lay next to Tony.
“It took me awhile to figure it out,” Steve murmured, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “But I think I know why now. Seeing you coming down from the sky on your own, banged up beyond belief, armor savaged…”
He exhaled through his teeth and took Tony’s hand, squeezing it tight. “You’ve started to go alone on your missions more. And—and I don’t like when you’re not part of a team, without people who can take care of you. Keep you safe.”
Steve swallowed, sitting up and looking down at Tony, brushing his knuckles lightly along the edges of Tony’s injury.
“I don’t like you fighting the good fight without me,” he said. “I think that’s it. I don’t like it when we’re apart. When it’s Director Stark and Commander Rogers—not Captain America and Iron Man.”
“Oh, is that all?” Tony said with a little satisfied hum. “As long as that’s it, Cap, the problem’s simple.”
He sat up and pecked Steve’s cheek lightly, laying his head on Steve’s shoulder and entwining his fingers in Steve’s, idly squeezing. “I just have to be a bit more picky about the missions I take.”
“Well, it’s not quite that—I’ m glad you’re out there fighting…just, ah…let’s fight together, okay?” Steve said.
“Sure, sure,” Tony said, closing his eyes. “Dinner date and then a bit of fisticuffs with AIM. I can make any Saturday night good.”
Steve laughed, hefting Tony up and picking the suit-case up in his other arm; Tony was falling asleep, and the man in his arms took top priority.
Steve set the suit-case down long enough on a desk top to take a huge rectangular bandage from one of the kits and smooth it over Tony’s cuts. Tony slept on through it, not so much as making a sound when Steve left the suit-case up in R&D before going down to the car and buckling him in the passenger’s seat.
“I missed you,” Tony finally said as he stirred. “It’s okay. We work together better anyway.”
Steve smiled and leaned over as he started the car to kiss Tony, slow and sweet and soft. Tony leaned his forehead into Steve’s as he pulled away, the two of them staying connected for another brief moment before Steve pulled out of base and onto the road, back towards home.
“We do,” he said. “Sleep well, Director Stark.”
Tony just curled up on his seat and smiled, lulling himself to sleep with the sound of Steve’s voice.
Title: Commander's Care
Rating: T
Universe: 616-ish; it's the Commander Rogers/Director Stark AU
Warnings: none
From: AssistedRealityInterface / Agentvictoriahand
Steve always felt like there was something worse about the missions Tony took as Director now, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
He sat at his desk and sifted through the files of the last six missions Tony had been on with a frown. Nothing was out of place regarding the usual suspects; he’d squared off with AIM, HYDRA, and a few other assorted local terrorist militias. And he’d brought the armor on every mission as well, so it wasn’t as if he was defenseless.
Perhaps it was the lack of their more ridiculous nemeses that had Steve worried?
He rubbed his temples and thought. Well, it wasn’t like Batroc or the Unicorn were going to show up demanding their attention as members of S.H.I.E.L.D., so perhaps the lack of light ‘relief villains,’ for want of a better word, really was making him worry. Tony had been going up against the worst of the worst nonstop for about six months now.
But even then, that didn’t feel quite right…
“Steve?”
He jumped halfway out of his chair and looked up to see Maria watching him. He straightened himself up and saluted her. “Ma’am.”
“Tony’s on-location in Beirut,” she said, shaking her head. “Thought you might want to know.”
“That’s it,” he murmured, making her cock her head.
“What are you talking about?” she asked. Steve smiled.
“Nothing, Vice-Director, nothing,” he said. “I think I just found an answer to my question, that’s all.”
Maria shook her head and sighed. “Anything you say, Steve. Call me if you need help re-filing this mess. I’ll send someone.”
“Thank you,” he said as she turned to leave. “Any clue when Tony will be back?”
“Not even remotely,” she said with a sigh and a smile. “I don’t think this one will take him too long. We’ve been running him ragged lately, haven’t we?”
“We have,” he murmured idly, settling in with a frown and re-opening the file that he’d had out before him as she left.
He ended up working late without quite realizing; it was only when Maria brought him in sympathy takeout that he understood.
“It’s ten, Steve,” she said. “At least eat something.”
“Right,” he agreed, looking over what had to be at least half of the Chinese takeaway’s menu.
“Thanks for remembering.”
“What, your overactive metabolism? Tony was telling me once about how you ate an entire tub of ice cream in a sitting during movie night and then complained when he didn’t share his,” Maria said with a little laugh. Steve at least had the decency to blush.
“Brat,” he mumbled, but there was no genuine anger in his tone as he undid the paper tops. “You’re welcome to stay, Vice-Director.”
“What? No, absolutely not, I’m heading home,” she said with a little laugh. “Thanks for the offer, though. If something goes awry, I’m always on call.”
“Thank you, Vice-Director,” he said, watching her leave with a sigh as he turned back to the work and his takeout.
The ‘filed’ stack had become higher than the ‘unfiled’ by the time Steve checked the clock again. He frowned. Midnight.
On days without trauma or high periods of stress, he could go with four hour’s sleep and be fine, and he was almost done…
Steve nodded, like that decided it, and settled in to finish up the work with a little huff,
scribbling his signature over a few things before setting it in the other bin.
It was another two hours before he heard the familiar whine of machinery and his head shot up.
“Tony!”
He grabbed his jacket and threw it over his shoulders, running outside to see the suit shining red and gold beneath the silver moonlight, the jet-boots whirring and sputtering as the suit sank down to the earth.
Steve watched, panic tight and searing hot in his chest as the jet-boots gave out for the final ten feet of the fall.
He bolted and caught Tony in the armor without quite realizing until the weight made them both hit the ground—admittedly, a much softer landing than Tony would’ve had before.
“Tony?” Steve said. “Tony, what the hell—“
“It’s all right,” he said, though the voice generator of the suit had become warped and distorted. “I’m fine, we just need to get inside.”
“You don’t look fine,” Steve protested.
“You fuss.”
“Then tell me why you won’t open the faceplate!” Steve snapped.
Tony said nothing as Steve helped him inside, throwing his arm over his broad shoulder without so much as cringing about the weight. He supported Tony the entire walk into base before asking,
“Where to, Director?”
“Christ, I don’t know. Medbay? I feel like I should at least get some iodine on this. But maybe R&D first. My armor’s shot to hell.”
“Medbay first,” Steve said. “Flesh takes priority over steel. Steel can be repaired at any time, but I’m not so sure about you.”
“Okay, fine. Medbay it is. Can you carry the armor up to R&D when I’m in?”
“Sure,” Steve said. “Not sure who’s on duty right now, but let’s see what we can do…”
He hefted Tony into his grip a little more, kissing his suit’s golden, sharp cheek without noticing; Tony wrinkled his nose inside the faceplate and tried not to smile.
“I’m glad to see you,” Steve said. “You ought to just be glad I was getting paperwork done, or you would’ve been—“
“Ooh, Captain America—excuse me, Commander Rogers—sitting down and doing paperwork? That almost qualifies as a threat to national security, what with all that can-do asskicking you’re not getting done.”
“I’m going to push you out of a window,” Steve muttered, bringing him down the stairs and into the medbay. “Hello? Anyone here?”
He sighed when his own voice echoed. “Tony? Is it a Friday?”
“In America, yeah. In Russia, it’s—“
“Stop it,” he said, helping him onto an exam table. “Get the armor off. And don’t be petulant. I promise not to yell, no matter how banged up you’ve gotten this time.”
“Really?” Tony said, the armor starting to come off at the feet to the thighs.
“I’ve found it works much bettholer with you when I’m just quietly disappointed,” Steve said with a little chuckle. Tony huffed, taking off the chestplate before detatching both his arms, setting everything aside and finally taking off his helmet in entirety.
“I don’t like it when you know my weaknesses,” Tony grumbled in vague half-protest. Steve clucked his tongue, cupping his cheek before falling silent. Tony cringed.
“Look, before you freak out—“
“Whose initials are these?” Steve asked, tracing the bloody jagged letters in Tony’s cheek. He shrugged.
“Had a team with me,” he said. “Ran into one of the local warlords. I made a deal; I’d let him take me if the rest of the team could go. They didn’t have armor—and, more importantly, they had sniper rifles.”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t ‘in service’ for long, thanks to those aforementioned sniper rifles, but long enough to go through the initiation. He was gonna add a symbol of the gang on my other cheek. Thankfully, he didn’t make it that far.”
Steve swore softly, getting up and pacing, like storming about like a lion tossing its mane in challenge would fix things. Tony snorted.
“Go get the blue wand with the silver tip over on the workbench,” he said. “That’s for closing up wounds. I’ll take it home, keep using it; should leave my face as pretty as the front pages like it.”
“You’re awful,” Steve said, but he passed the wand to Tony before wrapping an arm around him and holding him close, mindful of his other injuries. “Just bumps and bruises?”
“A couple, but I could use a brace on my left knee,” Tony said. “Landed badly during a pit-stop.”
“You flew the whole way back? What about the jet?” Steve asked, watching Tony peel off his undersuit and lay back on the exam table with a sigh, his legs dangling off the edge.
“Well, I had to actually get out of there on my own,” he said. “The team managed to snipe a few of the worst of the group, but there was no point in them sticking around to possibly get captured and killed, making my whole ‘sacrifice myself for the good of the team’ thing pointless. So we split off; team took the jet, I took the suit. I had a way to fly out of there, so why wait?”
“Because you were injured and vulnerable!” Steve snapped, grabbing the brace and lifting Tony’s leg up, fitting the black brace around him with a huff. “This is why I worry, Tony!”
“Aw, I’m touched,” Tony said with a soft laugh, cringing when it made his chest throb. “I’m the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. now, handsome. What’s got you so worried?”
Steve stood up with a sigh, climbing onto the exam table to lay next to Tony.
“It took me awhile to figure it out,” Steve murmured, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “But I think I know why now. Seeing you coming down from the sky on your own, banged up beyond belief, armor savaged…”
He exhaled through his teeth and took Tony’s hand, squeezing it tight. “You’ve started to go alone on your missions more. And—and I don’t like when you’re not part of a team, without people who can take care of you. Keep you safe.”
Steve swallowed, sitting up and looking down at Tony, brushing his knuckles lightly along the edges of Tony’s injury.
“I don’t like you fighting the good fight without me,” he said. “I think that’s it. I don’t like it when we’re apart. When it’s Director Stark and Commander Rogers—not Captain America and Iron Man.”
“Oh, is that all?” Tony said with a little satisfied hum. “As long as that’s it, Cap, the problem’s simple.”
He sat up and pecked Steve’s cheek lightly, laying his head on Steve’s shoulder and entwining his fingers in Steve’s, idly squeezing. “I just have to be a bit more picky about the missions I take.”
“Well, it’s not quite that—I’ m glad you’re out there fighting…just, ah…let’s fight together, okay?” Steve said.
“Sure, sure,” Tony said, closing his eyes. “Dinner date and then a bit of fisticuffs with AIM. I can make any Saturday night good.”
Steve laughed, hefting Tony up and picking the suit-case up in his other arm; Tony was falling asleep, and the man in his arms took top priority.
Steve set the suit-case down long enough on a desk top to take a huge rectangular bandage from one of the kits and smooth it over Tony’s cuts. Tony slept on through it, not so much as making a sound when Steve left the suit-case up in R&D before going down to the car and buckling him in the passenger’s seat.
“I missed you,” Tony finally said as he stirred. “It’s okay. We work together better anyway.”
Steve smiled and leaned over as he started the car to kiss Tony, slow and sweet and soft. Tony leaned his forehead into Steve’s as he pulled away, the two of them staying connected for another brief moment before Steve pulled out of base and onto the road, back towards home.
“We do,” he said. “Sleep well, Director Stark.”
Tony just curled up on his seat and smiled, lulling himself to sleep with the sound of Steve’s voice.
no subject
Self-sacrificing Tony, because of course, and Steve worrying about him being alone on missions - so nice. I liked that Maria was there for Steve, as well.
And oooh, I absolutely loved all of the comforting bits, and Tony falling asleep on him, so good. :)