ext_22652 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
entropy-house.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cap_ironman2015-07-15 02:40 pm
entropy-house.livejournal.com) wrote in cap_ironman2015-07-15 02:40 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: Identity Theft
identity Theft (3855 words) by AnonEhouse
Rating: Gen
Warnings:bit of self-harm implication (but this is TONY, he's always like that)
Universe: MCU
Genre:Angsty a bit?
Steve is found and revived much sooner than MCU canon, and the team works together for a considerable time before the Chitauri invasion, during which time Steve and Iron Man become good friends. Neither of them think much of Tony Stark.
A fill for the 'Identity Porn' square on my Bingo card.
Steve didn't hate Tony Stark. Hate was a word he reserved for the Red Skull and other totally evil people. Tony Stark was a frivolous, self-centered, vulgar, inconsiderate, egotistical, arrogant, wasteful, drunkard, but he wasn't evil.
Frequently, Steve had to remind himself of that. Like right now. Stark woke him up at an ungodly hour, crashing through Steve's bedroom door with half a dozen equally inebriated companions giggling in his wake. He then stood there and stared at Steve, blinking owlishly. "Why are you in my bedroom, Cap?" Tony said, speaking with the over-enunciated clarity of a high-functioning alcoholic.
"This is my bedroom, Mr. Stark," Steve said irritably. "On my floor. Your bedroom is in the penthouse."
"Oh." Stark stared at him for a few more seconds. "You're alone?"
"Yes, Mr. Stark, I'm alone."
Stark frowned. "You're too pretty to be alone." He looked back at his entourage and then at Steve. "That's not fair, is it? I have so much, and you have so, so little." He peeled himself loose from several people. "Want one? Or two?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Stark." Steve didn't exactly grit his teeth, but his jaw muscles tightened painfully for a few seconds. He stood with his arms crossed against his chest, until the message sank in, and Stark and his herd, harem, does it count as a harem if some of them are men, whatever, Stark and his guests eventually found their way out into the hallway, and with any luck, into the elevator and to the penthouse. Or at least somewhere out of earshot.
No such luck. Steve resolved to buy stronger ear plugs.
A few hours later, after his alarm clock, and 'yes, Mr. Stark, I know it's old-fashioned, but I'm accustomed to it', rang, Steve got up with a firm resolve not to complain about Stark, but it lasted only as long as it took for him to meet Iron Man at the gym for a sparring session. "You look tired, Steve," Iron Man said. "Are you sure you want to spar?"
"Yeah. I need to work off some aggression. Better on you than your employer." Steve feinted playfully.
"What's that ass done now?" Iron Man circled, quite gracefully considering the amount of metal involved.
"Nothing much." Steve circled with Iron Man, reading his body language. "Showed up at three a.m. in my bedroom and generously offered me my choice of his current harem."
"I've said it before, and I'll say it again, you should just punch him." Iron Man tried for a take down, and missed, but not by much. Steve grabbed him and grappled, enjoying the chance to use his full strength without fear of injuring a friend.
"I'd forget to pull my punch and kill him. Then where would we be?" Steve would not ever, ever, strike an unarmed civilian. But a man could dream. Stark would be so surprised.
"Well, after probate, the Avengers get the Tower."
"Iron Man! You didn't look at his will!" Steve was startled long enough for Iron Man to trip him. "Oof." Steve rolled back to his feet and circled faster.
"He left it open on the computer when I was in for repairs. I was bored." Iron Man tilted his head in what Steve learned was a grin. "He likes you. Me, not so much. There wasn't a word about who'd take over my armor maintenance."
Steve's throat tightened. "But you'd die if the armor failed."
"Yeah, well, what does he care? I'm his bodyguard, not the other way around. So, I guess I shouldn't tell you to punch him."
"Have you asked him about it? Reed Richards could probably handle it." Steve did a flip, jumping over the armor, but at the last second, Iron Man caught his foot and dragged him down. Steve bounced up and resumed circling.
"He's too paranoid. I've heard him rant often enough. 'No one can be trusted! Everyone betrays me!' " Iron Man finished, raising his voice in an eerie simulation of Stark's tenor. "What a drama-queen."
Steve tried to be fair. He'd heard about Obadiah Stane murdering Stark's secretary, chauffeur, and the Air Force pilot who'd served as liaison with Stark Industries before Iron Man could take him down and rescue Stark. That had to be traumatic for a privileged civilian. "I'll talk to him," Steve promised.
"Won't do any good. He knows I hate him. I'll bet he deliberately let me see the will, so I'd know I have to keep his rotten hide intact."
"You'd do that anyway. You're a hero, Iron Man." Steve dropped his hands and stood still as a signal he was done sparring. It wasn't a good idea to spar when you weren't keeping your head in the game, and Iron Man was obviously upset. "You're better than that. You're better than him."
Iron Man's metal shoulders shrugged. "I just wish I didn't have to associate with him at all. Sure, he gives the Avengers equipment and pays our expenses, but it's all a front. Giving to charity, his company shifting from weapons to consumer technology, all that big noise about donating prosthetics to victims of his mines and missiles, it's all to make him look good in public. That's all he cares about. The Avengers are a photo opportunity. I won't let him use me for that."
"Is that why I never see you with him?"
"One of the reasons. I can't leave him, but I don't have to pretend we're friends. He fixes my armor, I get the hell out of his way, and he goes back to whatever he does. Probably sits around admiring himself." Iron Man stalked over to one of the reinforced punch bags Stark had made for Steve and hit it with both palm repulsors, blasting it into a fine shower of particles. "I'd like to do that to his pretty face."
Steve was alarmed, but he tried not to show it. He'd known that Iron Man disliked Stark, but he had no idea how strongly he felt. "But you won't."
Iron Man was silent for a long moment, then he shook his head. "No, I won't, but he deserves it. Did you ever wonder how I got like this, Steve?" Iron Man clapped one gauntlet to his chest. "Stark fucked up. That's why he won't make weapons any more. It's not guilt, it's fear. He's afraid he'll fuck up again and everyone will see him for what he really is." The helmet tilted again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to unload all that on you, Steve."
"No, no, I'm glad you told me how you feel." Steve put his hand on Iron Man's shoulder. "You're my friend. I want you always feel free to speak your mind with me, Iron Man." Steve wished Iron Man had given him a name, even a false one, but when he'd suggested it, Iron Man had just said 'I am Iron Man', and that was the end of it.
Steve thought about their conversation and resolved to talk to Stark, the next time he saw him. Provided he was reasonably sober, of course. Iron Man had told Steve the man didn't drink while he was working, so the next time Iron Man had got dented in battle, Steve waited a few hours, and then went down to the workshop door. "JARVIS, would you mind asking Mr. Stark if he could spare a few moments to speak with me?" Steve said politely. "It's about Iron Man."
"Mr. Stark will meet you in the common room in fifteen minutes, if that is acceptable, Captain Rogers?"
"Sure, that's fine. Thank you."
Steve made a pot of coffee and set out a tray of snacks, hoping to keep the meeting social, then he sat on the white leather sofa and waited. Stark came bustling in with his usual air of self-importance. It was a little dimmed by a gloriously bruised right eye. Steve didn't think ignoring it would help. "Ow. That looks painful. Want a raw steak to put on it?"
Stark blinked at him. "Raw steak. On my eye. Uh. No, thanks, e.coli is not my friend." Stark grabbed a cup of coffee and sat on the black leather sofa facing the white one, but he was up again a second later, and began pacing. "What is it about Iron Man? Has he complained about the suit? He probably talks to you more than me."
"Oh, no, I've never heard him say anything bad about the suit," Steve hastened to reassure Stark, who looked jittery and ready to flee. "It's just... I was thinking, it's a lot on you, having to maintain the suit, along with all your work with your company." Steve didn't mention Stark's social activities.
"Yeah. It is. I don't mind. He's doing good work, isn't he? Iron Man is my greatest creation." Stark flashed a smile, then looked at the coffee cup as if he just remembered he was holding it. He drank some of it. "So, if it's not the suit, what is it?"
"Well, in a way, it is the suit. I was wondering if you've made any provisions for someone else to care for it, in case, you know. Just in case."
Stark sat down heavily on the black couch. "In case I drink myself to death? Oh, or maybe get the D.T.s and I can't keep my hands steady?" Stark put down the coffee cup, picked up a cookie and methodically broke it into crumbs.
"I didn't mean that!" Sober Stark was apparently a melancholiac. "Just, you know," Steve said, waving at Stark's eye. "If you're temporarily incapacitated by..."
"Walking into a door?" Stark snapped. "Or falling down the stairs, you mean? Or, or... whatever..." Stark touched his face gingerly. "It happens, when you're a drunk. You lose bits of time. But I am a responsible drunk! JARVIS has the complete specs and maintenance routines for the suits, including all the upgrades I'm planning. He'll pass it on to... to whoever you and he agree on." Stark brushed the crumbs off his hands. "I'm just... I'm going back to work now. You can tell Iron Man he doesn't have to worry."
"Thank you." Steve said. He watched as Stark left, and felt the same helpless anger he had with his own father. There was a good man under there somewhere, drowning in drink.
Steve told Iron Man what Stark had said, but it didn't seem to please him. "I appreciate your concern, Steve, but I'd rather you didn't talk about me to Stark. Next thing you know, you'll have me making allowances for him, feeling sorry for him, maybe even forgiving him. I need my anger. It keeps me going."
"All right." Steve had no idea what injuries Iron Man hid under the suit. If hate helped him overcome the pain, Steve wasn't going to take it away from him. It wasn't as if Iron Man was going to hurt Stark. Stark was doing a bang-up job of self-destruction all on his own. And really, it wasn't affecting the team, so Steve had no reason to pursue it. They were all broken people in one way or another, and their personal business was their own.
SHIELD kept sending them out on missions, and they melded into a seamless unit. They often split into pairs or triples, and while Steve tried to shuffle them around so they'd be familiar with everyone's abilities and 'style', he had to admit he loved fighting alongside Iron Man the best. The Avengers brought down super villains nearly every month, and occasionally helped NYPD when bank robbers or other common criminals turned out to have Hydra weapons, or mutant powers, or mad scientist gadgets. Steve wondered if these loonies were drawn to New York by the challenge of facing off against the Avengers. Maybe that got them bragging rights in prison.
So, you know, as Clint said, they 'kicked ass and took names'. Most of the super villains shouted their names loudly enough to add credence to Steve's idea that they were doing it for publicity. The weird costumes just added to it. Your normal crook wanted to blend in with the crowd to get away. Steve began to think maybe instead of fighting them, they should run some sort of contest. Give them something worthless to destroy and whoever did the best job got their picture taken with the Avengers, along with a nice, shiny trophy to put on their mantel. The bad guys never won, and they never would, even the dumbest rock had to learn that eventually. Sometimes the stupid just made Steve tired.
Thinking about Stark made him tired, too, but there wasn't anything to be done about it. The world was full of people Steve could help; people who wanted his help, and could accept it. He went out with Iron Man and his team, and they did what they could.
And then Thor's brother showed up with an army of weird creatures Thor called Chitauri. They walked like men, and used weapons and sort of wore clothes, but their armor he'd swear was actually part of them. The giant animals that flew were like that, too. He couldn't figure how they stayed in the air. Maybe they were full of hydrogen, or helium, but no blimp could maneuver like they did. He'd seen the Hindenburg fly over New York. Stately was the best description.
This was all going on in the back of his mind where he did tactical calculations. If the flying things used hydrogen, they could be set on fire. If the armor was part of the Chitauri, like an armadillo, it had to have attachment points, vulnerabilities.
There wasn't time to organize his thoughts into a plan, beyond dispersing the Avengers to make best use of their abilities and telling the police to get civilians under cover. After that it was all strike and turn and strike again, try to keep aware of his team, get hit, get back up. Banner had showed up, which was a plus he didn't count on. He'd refused to go out on most missions, saying the collateral damage was worse than the criminals. Right now, collateral damage was the least of Steve's worries.
The Avengers weren't going to be enough. The aliens kept pouring through that hole in the sky and it was all they could do to stand their ground. That was how you fight a losing battle. They had to stop the reinforcements before the Chitauri could spread out and dig in, setting up bases and making more portals. They had to be stopped at the beachhead.
Iron Man obviously knew that too when he took the missile on his back and flew into the portal.
What idiot had ordered a nuclear bomb? Even if New York City was made a radioactive wasteland, that wouldn't stop the enemy. So long as they proved they could open a portal and keep it open, they'd be back. Stark's tower may have been the most convenient, and satisfyingly flamboyant, source of the energy needed for an opening of that size, but Steve wouldn't bet anything there weren't dozens, hundreds, of places around the globe that would work for smaller portals, possibly with less resistance. This was a feint, a test of Earth's readiness, and the only thing that would make the enemy rethink its strategy would be proof it was useless, either by destroying all the troops or by shutting down the portal. Ideally both.
Natasha had found a way to close the portal.
Iron Man hadn't come back.
Less than a minute after he entered the portal all the enemy, soldiers and great flying beasts both, collapsed, convulsed, and then lay still. Steve stood there, panting, in disbelief. What had Iron Man done? He glanced briefly at the circle of still figures around him and noted that the blue gemlike stones set in their wrists and their small flying cars, had gone dark. Were they like Iron Man, powered by something like his arc reactor, only transmitted like... radio waves? He wasn't really thinking about it, it was just a quick analysis, in case the Chitauri returned, it was something that might be a vulnerability. He'd remember it later, after Iron Man returned.
Steve waited, Thor at his side, both of them staring into the sky, but when the fireball, energy wave, whatever the hell it was appeared in the portal, there was no more time. "Close it," Steve told Natasha. It was war, and sacrifices have to be made. He was just grateful that Natasha had been as sentimental as him, and given Iron Man a chance. He had wanted Iron Man to survive. He didn't give a damn that Stark would probably make another suit and find someone willing to bodyguard him and fight with the Avengers. There was only one Iron Man. And he was Steve's friend. Steve had lost so many people and it never got easier.
He and Thor kept watching. Iron Man was not going to die unwatched, unmourned. Without the generator feeding it, the portal began closing in on itself. It was barely more than a flaw in the sky when Steve saw the dark speck emerge from it. The human-shaped speck. "Son of a gun," Steve said, grinning.
Thor ruined his good mood a second later. "He's not slowing down." He wound up his hammer, but Hulk leaped and caught Iron Man first, clawing his way down a brick building to slow the momentum. Bruce always said Hulk was stupid, but that took brains, to know he had to do that. Steve ran with Thor over to Hulk's landing site.
Hulk shoved Iron Man off of him.
Iron Man didn't move. The ever-present light in his armor was gone. Steve hesitated. He knew Iron Man needed the armor to live, but it wasn't working, was it? Thor reached forward and ripped off the faceplate before Steve could decide if he should stop him.
"Stark?" Steve stared for an instant in disbelief at the still face, the closed eyes, the blood-smeared goatee, then he glanced at Thor. "Did you know?"
"Nay, Captain." Thor shook his head.
Hulk huffed. "HULK KNOW." He poked at the armor. "GET UP, IRON TONY."
"He can't get up, Hulk," Steve said, as gently as he could. "He's... gone."
Hulk stared at Steve and then he threw his head back and roared, louder than he had during the battle. The sheer force of it made Steve stagger. Iron Man... Stark...jerked and his eyes flew open, the light glowing in his chest plate again.
"What the hell?" He looked around wildly, "where... my faceplate. I need it!" He brought his gauntlets up to cover his face. "I'm Iron Man!"
"Mr. Stark... Tony..."
"I'm IRON MAN!" Stark rolled over and looked around wildly until he saw the faceplate. "Not Stark! Don't call me that!" He lifted his hands and the repulsors glowed, faintly and flickering. "Don't you get it? I'm a hero!"
Thor looked helplessly at Steve. "Indeed you are, Man of Iron," Thor said. "There is no need to fight with us. We are your loyal comrades."
Hulk looked confused. He reached out to Stark.
"Stay back!" Stark said. He leaned down and picked up the faceplate. The fastenings were bent and sheared. "What did you DO? WHY?" He backed away from them. "I was good! It was fine! Now he'll know."
"Who will know, Mr. Stark?" Steve said, although he was fairly sure he knew the answer.
"HIM! Iron Man, yes! Tony Stark, no!" Stark's face was flushed bright red, and he kept weaving, looking from side to side, at Steve, and Thor, and Hulk, like a trapped animal seeking an escape route. "I was good!"
"You are good," Steve said. He took a step closer, ignoring the wavering hands. "We'll go back to the tower, and Mr. Stark will repair your armor."
Stark looked hopeful for a moment, and then he shook his head. "You'll tell him. You'll feel sorry for him, and you'll tell him. He doesn't know. He's too stupid to figure it out. He just wants to crawl into a bottle. He'll kill me."
"He's been hurt," Steve said.
"Who hasn't? He's a coward. He was going to lie there and DIE in that cave until I took over. He's not like you, Steve. He's not brave and selfless." Stark's eyes, the ones Steve had never been able to see behind the mask, looked at him, wide and wounded. "He's not your friend, Steve. I am."
"Yes, you're my friend." Steve stepped closer. "You will always be my friend. I don't want to lose you. Please, let us help you."
"I need my armor," Stark said, but there was less force behind it and his hands were dropping. "You won't take my armor away, and make me be him, will you?"
"No one can take your armor." Steve finally got close enough to put his arms around Iron Man's shoulders. "You are Iron Man." He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, just a moment, to get himself under control. "We'll go back to the workshop, and Stark will fix your armor." Steve sighed and looked at Thor. "I need you to take over for a while, Thor. Hulk, be nice."
Hulk grunted, and stretched out one hand to gently pat Stark's hair. "BANNER DOES NOT LIKE HULK, EITHER. HULK WILL NOT LET STARK HURT IRON MAN." He tilted his head as if listening. "BANNER WILL NOT LET IRON MAN HURT STARK." Hulk shrugged and turned to Thor. "WE GO?"
"Indeed we must," Thor said. "We need to find my brother, to prevent him causing more mischief."
Hulk huffed. "PUNY BROTHER, THOR FOLLOW HULK!" Hulk leaped in the direction of Stark Tower. Thor hurled his hammer and followed. Steve assumed that Natasha and Clint had listened in, but they had the good sense not to interfere in a delicate situation.
"Come on," Steve urged gently, turning Iron Man, but keeping an arm around him. Iron Man started walking.
"He'll be hungry, you know," Stark said conversationally. "I get beat to hell and gone, and he gets hungry. It's not fair."
"I know," Steve said, keeping his voice even. "It's not fair."
Stark glanced at him. "You are still my friend, aren't you, Steve?"
"Yes. We'll get through this together, Iron Man." Steve had no idea where to start, but Bruce would. First thing, he'd have to convince Natasha and Clint not to tell SHIELD. He didn't think that would be too hard. They would sympathize, given what little he knew of their backgrounds. "We're a team. We're all there for you."
Stark smiled at him. "Stark would like shawarma. I don't know what it is, but I saw it about two blocks from here."
"Sounds good to me." Steve smiled back at Stark. So, Iron Man was messed up in the head. He'd saved the world. And he was Steve's friend. They'd work it out, together.
Based on an AvengerKink prompt I found in a 'golden oldies' post
And this is the original post.
Rating: Gen
Warnings:bit of self-harm implication (but this is TONY, he's always like that)
Universe: MCU
Genre:Angsty a bit?
Steve is found and revived much sooner than MCU canon, and the team works together for a considerable time before the Chitauri invasion, during which time Steve and Iron Man become good friends. Neither of them think much of Tony Stark.
A fill for the 'Identity Porn' square on my Bingo card.
Steve didn't hate Tony Stark. Hate was a word he reserved for the Red Skull and other totally evil people. Tony Stark was a frivolous, self-centered, vulgar, inconsiderate, egotistical, arrogant, wasteful, drunkard, but he wasn't evil.
Frequently, Steve had to remind himself of that. Like right now. Stark woke him up at an ungodly hour, crashing through Steve's bedroom door with half a dozen equally inebriated companions giggling in his wake. He then stood there and stared at Steve, blinking owlishly. "Why are you in my bedroom, Cap?" Tony said, speaking with the over-enunciated clarity of a high-functioning alcoholic.
"This is my bedroom, Mr. Stark," Steve said irritably. "On my floor. Your bedroom is in the penthouse."
"Oh." Stark stared at him for a few more seconds. "You're alone?"
"Yes, Mr. Stark, I'm alone."
Stark frowned. "You're too pretty to be alone." He looked back at his entourage and then at Steve. "That's not fair, is it? I have so much, and you have so, so little." He peeled himself loose from several people. "Want one? Or two?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Stark." Steve didn't exactly grit his teeth, but his jaw muscles tightened painfully for a few seconds. He stood with his arms crossed against his chest, until the message sank in, and Stark and his herd, harem, does it count as a harem if some of them are men, whatever, Stark and his guests eventually found their way out into the hallway, and with any luck, into the elevator and to the penthouse. Or at least somewhere out of earshot.
No such luck. Steve resolved to buy stronger ear plugs.
A few hours later, after his alarm clock, and 'yes, Mr. Stark, I know it's old-fashioned, but I'm accustomed to it', rang, Steve got up with a firm resolve not to complain about Stark, but it lasted only as long as it took for him to meet Iron Man at the gym for a sparring session. "You look tired, Steve," Iron Man said. "Are you sure you want to spar?"
"Yeah. I need to work off some aggression. Better on you than your employer." Steve feinted playfully.
"What's that ass done now?" Iron Man circled, quite gracefully considering the amount of metal involved.
"Nothing much." Steve circled with Iron Man, reading his body language. "Showed up at three a.m. in my bedroom and generously offered me my choice of his current harem."
"I've said it before, and I'll say it again, you should just punch him." Iron Man tried for a take down, and missed, but not by much. Steve grabbed him and grappled, enjoying the chance to use his full strength without fear of injuring a friend.
"I'd forget to pull my punch and kill him. Then where would we be?" Steve would not ever, ever, strike an unarmed civilian. But a man could dream. Stark would be so surprised.
"Well, after probate, the Avengers get the Tower."
"Iron Man! You didn't look at his will!" Steve was startled long enough for Iron Man to trip him. "Oof." Steve rolled back to his feet and circled faster.
"He left it open on the computer when I was in for repairs. I was bored." Iron Man tilted his head in what Steve learned was a grin. "He likes you. Me, not so much. There wasn't a word about who'd take over my armor maintenance."
Steve's throat tightened. "But you'd die if the armor failed."
"Yeah, well, what does he care? I'm his bodyguard, not the other way around. So, I guess I shouldn't tell you to punch him."
"Have you asked him about it? Reed Richards could probably handle it." Steve did a flip, jumping over the armor, but at the last second, Iron Man caught his foot and dragged him down. Steve bounced up and resumed circling.
"He's too paranoid. I've heard him rant often enough. 'No one can be trusted! Everyone betrays me!' " Iron Man finished, raising his voice in an eerie simulation of Stark's tenor. "What a drama-queen."
Steve tried to be fair. He'd heard about Obadiah Stane murdering Stark's secretary, chauffeur, and the Air Force pilot who'd served as liaison with Stark Industries before Iron Man could take him down and rescue Stark. That had to be traumatic for a privileged civilian. "I'll talk to him," Steve promised.
"Won't do any good. He knows I hate him. I'll bet he deliberately let me see the will, so I'd know I have to keep his rotten hide intact."
"You'd do that anyway. You're a hero, Iron Man." Steve dropped his hands and stood still as a signal he was done sparring. It wasn't a good idea to spar when you weren't keeping your head in the game, and Iron Man was obviously upset. "You're better than that. You're better than him."
Iron Man's metal shoulders shrugged. "I just wish I didn't have to associate with him at all. Sure, he gives the Avengers equipment and pays our expenses, but it's all a front. Giving to charity, his company shifting from weapons to consumer technology, all that big noise about donating prosthetics to victims of his mines and missiles, it's all to make him look good in public. That's all he cares about. The Avengers are a photo opportunity. I won't let him use me for that."
"Is that why I never see you with him?"
"One of the reasons. I can't leave him, but I don't have to pretend we're friends. He fixes my armor, I get the hell out of his way, and he goes back to whatever he does. Probably sits around admiring himself." Iron Man stalked over to one of the reinforced punch bags Stark had made for Steve and hit it with both palm repulsors, blasting it into a fine shower of particles. "I'd like to do that to his pretty face."
Steve was alarmed, but he tried not to show it. He'd known that Iron Man disliked Stark, but he had no idea how strongly he felt. "But you won't."
Iron Man was silent for a long moment, then he shook his head. "No, I won't, but he deserves it. Did you ever wonder how I got like this, Steve?" Iron Man clapped one gauntlet to his chest. "Stark fucked up. That's why he won't make weapons any more. It's not guilt, it's fear. He's afraid he'll fuck up again and everyone will see him for what he really is." The helmet tilted again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to unload all that on you, Steve."
"No, no, I'm glad you told me how you feel." Steve put his hand on Iron Man's shoulder. "You're my friend. I want you always feel free to speak your mind with me, Iron Man." Steve wished Iron Man had given him a name, even a false one, but when he'd suggested it, Iron Man had just said 'I am Iron Man', and that was the end of it.
Steve thought about their conversation and resolved to talk to Stark, the next time he saw him. Provided he was reasonably sober, of course. Iron Man had told Steve the man didn't drink while he was working, so the next time Iron Man had got dented in battle, Steve waited a few hours, and then went down to the workshop door. "JARVIS, would you mind asking Mr. Stark if he could spare a few moments to speak with me?" Steve said politely. "It's about Iron Man."
"Mr. Stark will meet you in the common room in fifteen minutes, if that is acceptable, Captain Rogers?"
"Sure, that's fine. Thank you."
Steve made a pot of coffee and set out a tray of snacks, hoping to keep the meeting social, then he sat on the white leather sofa and waited. Stark came bustling in with his usual air of self-importance. It was a little dimmed by a gloriously bruised right eye. Steve didn't think ignoring it would help. "Ow. That looks painful. Want a raw steak to put on it?"
Stark blinked at him. "Raw steak. On my eye. Uh. No, thanks, e.coli is not my friend." Stark grabbed a cup of coffee and sat on the black leather sofa facing the white one, but he was up again a second later, and began pacing. "What is it about Iron Man? Has he complained about the suit? He probably talks to you more than me."
"Oh, no, I've never heard him say anything bad about the suit," Steve hastened to reassure Stark, who looked jittery and ready to flee. "It's just... I was thinking, it's a lot on you, having to maintain the suit, along with all your work with your company." Steve didn't mention Stark's social activities.
"Yeah. It is. I don't mind. He's doing good work, isn't he? Iron Man is my greatest creation." Stark flashed a smile, then looked at the coffee cup as if he just remembered he was holding it. He drank some of it. "So, if it's not the suit, what is it?"
"Well, in a way, it is the suit. I was wondering if you've made any provisions for someone else to care for it, in case, you know. Just in case."
Stark sat down heavily on the black couch. "In case I drink myself to death? Oh, or maybe get the D.T.s and I can't keep my hands steady?" Stark put down the coffee cup, picked up a cookie and methodically broke it into crumbs.
"I didn't mean that!" Sober Stark was apparently a melancholiac. "Just, you know," Steve said, waving at Stark's eye. "If you're temporarily incapacitated by..."
"Walking into a door?" Stark snapped. "Or falling down the stairs, you mean? Or, or... whatever..." Stark touched his face gingerly. "It happens, when you're a drunk. You lose bits of time. But I am a responsible drunk! JARVIS has the complete specs and maintenance routines for the suits, including all the upgrades I'm planning. He'll pass it on to... to whoever you and he agree on." Stark brushed the crumbs off his hands. "I'm just... I'm going back to work now. You can tell Iron Man he doesn't have to worry."
"Thank you." Steve said. He watched as Stark left, and felt the same helpless anger he had with his own father. There was a good man under there somewhere, drowning in drink.
Steve told Iron Man what Stark had said, but it didn't seem to please him. "I appreciate your concern, Steve, but I'd rather you didn't talk about me to Stark. Next thing you know, you'll have me making allowances for him, feeling sorry for him, maybe even forgiving him. I need my anger. It keeps me going."
"All right." Steve had no idea what injuries Iron Man hid under the suit. If hate helped him overcome the pain, Steve wasn't going to take it away from him. It wasn't as if Iron Man was going to hurt Stark. Stark was doing a bang-up job of self-destruction all on his own. And really, it wasn't affecting the team, so Steve had no reason to pursue it. They were all broken people in one way or another, and their personal business was their own.
SHIELD kept sending them out on missions, and they melded into a seamless unit. They often split into pairs or triples, and while Steve tried to shuffle them around so they'd be familiar with everyone's abilities and 'style', he had to admit he loved fighting alongside Iron Man the best. The Avengers brought down super villains nearly every month, and occasionally helped NYPD when bank robbers or other common criminals turned out to have Hydra weapons, or mutant powers, or mad scientist gadgets. Steve wondered if these loonies were drawn to New York by the challenge of facing off against the Avengers. Maybe that got them bragging rights in prison.
So, you know, as Clint said, they 'kicked ass and took names'. Most of the super villains shouted their names loudly enough to add credence to Steve's idea that they were doing it for publicity. The weird costumes just added to it. Your normal crook wanted to blend in with the crowd to get away. Steve began to think maybe instead of fighting them, they should run some sort of contest. Give them something worthless to destroy and whoever did the best job got their picture taken with the Avengers, along with a nice, shiny trophy to put on their mantel. The bad guys never won, and they never would, even the dumbest rock had to learn that eventually. Sometimes the stupid just made Steve tired.
Thinking about Stark made him tired, too, but there wasn't anything to be done about it. The world was full of people Steve could help; people who wanted his help, and could accept it. He went out with Iron Man and his team, and they did what they could.
And then Thor's brother showed up with an army of weird creatures Thor called Chitauri. They walked like men, and used weapons and sort of wore clothes, but their armor he'd swear was actually part of them. The giant animals that flew were like that, too. He couldn't figure how they stayed in the air. Maybe they were full of hydrogen, or helium, but no blimp could maneuver like they did. He'd seen the Hindenburg fly over New York. Stately was the best description.
This was all going on in the back of his mind where he did tactical calculations. If the flying things used hydrogen, they could be set on fire. If the armor was part of the Chitauri, like an armadillo, it had to have attachment points, vulnerabilities.
There wasn't time to organize his thoughts into a plan, beyond dispersing the Avengers to make best use of their abilities and telling the police to get civilians under cover. After that it was all strike and turn and strike again, try to keep aware of his team, get hit, get back up. Banner had showed up, which was a plus he didn't count on. He'd refused to go out on most missions, saying the collateral damage was worse than the criminals. Right now, collateral damage was the least of Steve's worries.
The Avengers weren't going to be enough. The aliens kept pouring through that hole in the sky and it was all they could do to stand their ground. That was how you fight a losing battle. They had to stop the reinforcements before the Chitauri could spread out and dig in, setting up bases and making more portals. They had to be stopped at the beachhead.
Iron Man obviously knew that too when he took the missile on his back and flew into the portal.
What idiot had ordered a nuclear bomb? Even if New York City was made a radioactive wasteland, that wouldn't stop the enemy. So long as they proved they could open a portal and keep it open, they'd be back. Stark's tower may have been the most convenient, and satisfyingly flamboyant, source of the energy needed for an opening of that size, but Steve wouldn't bet anything there weren't dozens, hundreds, of places around the globe that would work for smaller portals, possibly with less resistance. This was a feint, a test of Earth's readiness, and the only thing that would make the enemy rethink its strategy would be proof it was useless, either by destroying all the troops or by shutting down the portal. Ideally both.
Natasha had found a way to close the portal.
Iron Man hadn't come back.
Less than a minute after he entered the portal all the enemy, soldiers and great flying beasts both, collapsed, convulsed, and then lay still. Steve stood there, panting, in disbelief. What had Iron Man done? He glanced briefly at the circle of still figures around him and noted that the blue gemlike stones set in their wrists and their small flying cars, had gone dark. Were they like Iron Man, powered by something like his arc reactor, only transmitted like... radio waves? He wasn't really thinking about it, it was just a quick analysis, in case the Chitauri returned, it was something that might be a vulnerability. He'd remember it later, after Iron Man returned.
Steve waited, Thor at his side, both of them staring into the sky, but when the fireball, energy wave, whatever the hell it was appeared in the portal, there was no more time. "Close it," Steve told Natasha. It was war, and sacrifices have to be made. He was just grateful that Natasha had been as sentimental as him, and given Iron Man a chance. He had wanted Iron Man to survive. He didn't give a damn that Stark would probably make another suit and find someone willing to bodyguard him and fight with the Avengers. There was only one Iron Man. And he was Steve's friend. Steve had lost so many people and it never got easier.
He and Thor kept watching. Iron Man was not going to die unwatched, unmourned. Without the generator feeding it, the portal began closing in on itself. It was barely more than a flaw in the sky when Steve saw the dark speck emerge from it. The human-shaped speck. "Son of a gun," Steve said, grinning.
Thor ruined his good mood a second later. "He's not slowing down." He wound up his hammer, but Hulk leaped and caught Iron Man first, clawing his way down a brick building to slow the momentum. Bruce always said Hulk was stupid, but that took brains, to know he had to do that. Steve ran with Thor over to Hulk's landing site.
Hulk shoved Iron Man off of him.
Iron Man didn't move. The ever-present light in his armor was gone. Steve hesitated. He knew Iron Man needed the armor to live, but it wasn't working, was it? Thor reached forward and ripped off the faceplate before Steve could decide if he should stop him.
"Stark?" Steve stared for an instant in disbelief at the still face, the closed eyes, the blood-smeared goatee, then he glanced at Thor. "Did you know?"
"Nay, Captain." Thor shook his head.
Hulk huffed. "HULK KNOW." He poked at the armor. "GET UP, IRON TONY."
"He can't get up, Hulk," Steve said, as gently as he could. "He's... gone."
Hulk stared at Steve and then he threw his head back and roared, louder than he had during the battle. The sheer force of it made Steve stagger. Iron Man... Stark...jerked and his eyes flew open, the light glowing in his chest plate again.
"What the hell?" He looked around wildly, "where... my faceplate. I need it!" He brought his gauntlets up to cover his face. "I'm Iron Man!"
"Mr. Stark... Tony..."
"I'm IRON MAN!" Stark rolled over and looked around wildly until he saw the faceplate. "Not Stark! Don't call me that!" He lifted his hands and the repulsors glowed, faintly and flickering. "Don't you get it? I'm a hero!"
Thor looked helplessly at Steve. "Indeed you are, Man of Iron," Thor said. "There is no need to fight with us. We are your loyal comrades."
Hulk looked confused. He reached out to Stark.
"Stay back!" Stark said. He leaned down and picked up the faceplate. The fastenings were bent and sheared. "What did you DO? WHY?" He backed away from them. "I was good! It was fine! Now he'll know."
"Who will know, Mr. Stark?" Steve said, although he was fairly sure he knew the answer.
"HIM! Iron Man, yes! Tony Stark, no!" Stark's face was flushed bright red, and he kept weaving, looking from side to side, at Steve, and Thor, and Hulk, like a trapped animal seeking an escape route. "I was good!"
"You are good," Steve said. He took a step closer, ignoring the wavering hands. "We'll go back to the tower, and Mr. Stark will repair your armor."
Stark looked hopeful for a moment, and then he shook his head. "You'll tell him. You'll feel sorry for him, and you'll tell him. He doesn't know. He's too stupid to figure it out. He just wants to crawl into a bottle. He'll kill me."
"He's been hurt," Steve said.
"Who hasn't? He's a coward. He was going to lie there and DIE in that cave until I took over. He's not like you, Steve. He's not brave and selfless." Stark's eyes, the ones Steve had never been able to see behind the mask, looked at him, wide and wounded. "He's not your friend, Steve. I am."
"Yes, you're my friend." Steve stepped closer. "You will always be my friend. I don't want to lose you. Please, let us help you."
"I need my armor," Stark said, but there was less force behind it and his hands were dropping. "You won't take my armor away, and make me be him, will you?"
"No one can take your armor." Steve finally got close enough to put his arms around Iron Man's shoulders. "You are Iron Man." He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, just a moment, to get himself under control. "We'll go back to the workshop, and Stark will fix your armor." Steve sighed and looked at Thor. "I need you to take over for a while, Thor. Hulk, be nice."
Hulk grunted, and stretched out one hand to gently pat Stark's hair. "BANNER DOES NOT LIKE HULK, EITHER. HULK WILL NOT LET STARK HURT IRON MAN." He tilted his head as if listening. "BANNER WILL NOT LET IRON MAN HURT STARK." Hulk shrugged and turned to Thor. "WE GO?"
"Indeed we must," Thor said. "We need to find my brother, to prevent him causing more mischief."
Hulk huffed. "PUNY BROTHER, THOR FOLLOW HULK!" Hulk leaped in the direction of Stark Tower. Thor hurled his hammer and followed. Steve assumed that Natasha and Clint had listened in, but they had the good sense not to interfere in a delicate situation.
"Come on," Steve urged gently, turning Iron Man, but keeping an arm around him. Iron Man started walking.
"He'll be hungry, you know," Stark said conversationally. "I get beat to hell and gone, and he gets hungry. It's not fair."
"I know," Steve said, keeping his voice even. "It's not fair."
Stark glanced at him. "You are still my friend, aren't you, Steve?"
"Yes. We'll get through this together, Iron Man." Steve had no idea where to start, but Bruce would. First thing, he'd have to convince Natasha and Clint not to tell SHIELD. He didn't think that would be too hard. They would sympathize, given what little he knew of their backgrounds. "We're a team. We're all there for you."
Stark smiled at him. "Stark would like shawarma. I don't know what it is, but I saw it about two blocks from here."
"Sounds good to me." Steve smiled back at Stark. So, Iron Man was messed up in the head. He'd saved the world. And he was Steve's friend. They'd work it out, together.
Based on an AvengerKink prompt I found in a 'golden oldies' post
And this is the original post.
no subject
also I love your hulk! you wrote him very well
no subject