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cap_ironman2009-12-15 02:11 pm
Fic: A Clear, Bright Morning (Chapter 3, conclusion)
Author:
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otherhazards , and beta’d by 2ndfastest .Rating: R
Pairing: Cap/Iron Man
Warnings: Warnings: Sex. Maybe costume kink. I just think of it as sex.
Summary: A what-if retelling of the early Avengers story if the land mine that changed Tony’s life had gone off just two degrees higher... and damaged a lot more than just his heart.
Notes: Mostly based on 1960s Avengers comics canon, but I stole the idea of Rhodey being Tony's military liaison from the movie, and made him a Marine officer instead of an Air Force officer.
---
Cap had been on monitor duty when the call about Dr. Doom came in, so Thor takes over when the Avengers arrive home. ...The Wasp is a wreck, Ant-Man’s nearly asleep on his feet, and after the helmet incident earlier, nobody’s asking
The goalie-masked Avenger makes a transparent bid to disappear on them again entirely, but Cap heads him off with a gentle look of reproach, and the two of them go off in search of Iron Man’s spare helmet, Cap’s hand resting absently on Iron Man’s shoulder.
-
“So, Captain America-” Iron Man presses his right-hand repulsor disk to an innocent-looking panel on the workshop wall, and a brief flash of light shines out from between his spread fingers, “-you’re a little closer with your secrets than I thought. ...That’s good.”
The panel and part of the wall behind it slides open, to reveal an empty suit of red and gold armor, polished and lethally ready.
“...You’re -stalling-,” Steve observes.
Iron Man doesn’t answer at once, but the disbelieving tilt of his head as he looks over his shoulder at Captain
“...What’s your code for this workshop?” He prompts, serious.
“1-5-8-7-4-8, and add the number of minutes shown on the digital clock by the door,” Steve replies, dutifully.
“Okay,” Tony relaxes, “-can’t be too careful, you know.”
“I -know-,” Steve agrees, smiling.
Tony grins back, and uses a very low-powered repulsor ray to turn off the light switches on the other side of the room.
Steve laughs softly, and Tony can hear the unnaturally clear-toned clang of a shield being set down on one of the steel-topped workbenches.
Tony sets his new metal helmet down beside Cap’s shield, then takes off his hockey helmet and adds it to the pile of gear.
He feels a hand on his arm through the flexible mesh, and turns.
Another hand touches his chestplate, light pressure and weight rather than actual contact, and slides up over his shoulder. When Steve’s cool, leather-gloved fingers make contact with the damp skin on the back of his neck, Tony’s breath hitches- -and he can move again.
One of his hands cups the athletic cut of Steve’s waist just below the edge of the blue scale-mail. The other one fists itself around Steve’s black leather belt just to one side of the buckle, fingers dipping slightly into the waistband of Steve’s uniform pants.
Then Steve’s lips find his in the dark, and Tony stops breathing.
It’s like being plunged into warm water with his clothes on.
The angle’s wrong, and there’s a faint coppery tang of blood in Steve’s mouth from the fight earlier. Tony can hear his own regulated pulse pounding in his ears.
He presses forwards, impatiently tilting his head a little and drawing Steve’s chin up level with his own as the kiss deepens.
Now it feels natural. Easy. Like flying.
Tony’s almost surprised when Steve finally breaks the kiss, and perversely he wishes he could see the blonde’s expression, but of course it’s too dark.
He steals his next kiss before they’re too far apart, light, quick, and hungry.
Then they both catch their breath, and Steve’s gloved fingers curl around the nape of Tony’s neck, flexing lightly through soft hair too short to grab.
God Steve wears a lot of leather...
-
Iron Man is gentle, demanding, almost obscenely responsive.
He’s a contradiction in a full-body chastity belt, fumbling hopefully with Steve’s pants. His lips are soft and too warm, and his hands are strong enough to crush the bones in Steve’s wrist if his fingers happen to be around it when he sneezes wrong. He’s trembling like nobody’s touched him in years, and his hair smells of Tony Stark’s expensive shampoo.
Steve presses his advantage, and hears the ringing scrape of metal on metal as Iron Man’s hip comes into contact with the steel-topped workbench behind them.
The ragged gulp, as the bodyguard remembers to breathe.
Pulse-pounding silence and the pinch of Iron Man’s smooth, even teeth exploring the fullness of Steve’s lower lip.
Steve groans softly, and his free hand tightens around Iron Man’s upper arm.
Iron Man lets his lip go, and strokes Steve’s waist through the warm leather that covers it.
The kiss softens dangerously, then ends.
Tony licks his lips in the dark and breathes, eyes closed.
Steve smiles against the side of Iron Man’s jaw, and-
Iron Man’s helmet beeps crisply from the table behind him, and a small red light that would ordinarily be on the edge of his vision blinks faintly from beneath it.
“What’s that?” Steve asks, reluctantly.
Iron Man’s frustrated sigh is eloquent. He reaches back for his helmet, and settles it into place with a dull metallic click.
“...I have to go,” he says, in his fully mechanical voice.
In the still-dark room, Iron Man’s eye slits are the only things visible, glowing faintly red.
“I’ll see you later, then,” Steve agrees wryly, and after a moment he lets Iron Man up from being pinned against the workbench.
All the way to the door Tony keeps expecting Steve to add something to that, but he doesn’t.
-
Steve’s first thought is to check on his teammates upstairs.
He thinks better of it, and pushes the elevator button for the gym instead. A good, -hard- gymnastic workout, that’s the ticket... and possibly a cold shower.
-Or a not-so-cold shower?
Parallel bars, jumps, flips, drops, catches, spins- Steve feels better. Powerful. No matter how often he puts his Super Soldier Serum enhanced body through its paces, he’ll never get over the thrill of it. Of feeling -himself- do these things. It’s like driving a motorcycle, only better.
And Iron. Man. Kissed him.
Somehow it’s not the surprise Steve’s sensibilities tell him it should be, but it’s such a shift of his perceptions, of everything he -thought- he knew, that...
Seriously, Iron Man?
Steve’s not really sure what he wants to do with that. Well... the things he WANTS to do make him blush, but he’s not sure how to get there from here. ...He’s never dated a man before.
Iron Man doesn’t strike Steve as a Nancy, even a closet one. He’s too comfortable with beating his opponents up, too used to handling his personal problems without help.
Or... without help from the other Avengers.
Steve frowns a little, catching the gymnastic rings and flipping up and over.
Tony Stark knows what Iron Man really looks like.
Judging from the slightly hollow echo in Iron Man’s breathing, Tony must have gone to great lengths to put his loyal bodyguard back together after the explosion. He even built him an amazing suit of armor that allowed Iron Man to keep his job, instead of just putting the proud man out to pasture, as most others would have done.
They’re closer than brothers, those two.
Are they...?
Steve doesn’t finish that thought, but his mind turns the question over anyway.
No. They probably aren’t. Tony’s too smart to get involved with one of his employees, especially one who owes him too much already.
...And the way Iron Man kisses, he’s been missing it for awhile.
Steve leaps for the high-bar, catches it, scissors over, and lands deftly on the mat beyond. Grinning a little, he heads for the showers.
When he gets out, Iron Man and his boss are already gone.
-
Tony’s plane takes off from Paris International, and wings its way Eastward on the last rays of late-morning sun. Tony keeps the shade pulled down.
He’s through running, and done thinking.
He’s also gotten a lot accomplished, from securing the maglev design contract for a new high speed train, to attending a very good party last night at the Swedish embassy. Tony’s still not sure where his tie ended up, but the experimental smart-polymer mask he’s been wearing since Saturday morning has held up so well it’s spooky.
It itches like a sonofabitch by now, but it hasn’t come loose or gotten worn out in the least.
He can smile naturally in it. He can sleep, he can move, he can... get kissed by Fjona Millinova...
Fuck.
That’s one more reason he can never tell Steve he’s
But he has his old life back if he wants it- ...right?
-
“Your boss looked like he’d won the lottery when he came home earlier,” Steve says, looking out over the roof at night-time
“That... would be one way of putting it,” Tony agrees significantly, grinning behind his faceplate.
“Does the monsieur or mademoiselle have a name?” Steve teases.
“A gentleman never tells, and neither will I,” Iron Man assures him.
“It’s good to have you back, Iron Man,” Steve says, and puts an arm around the bodyguard’s shoulders.
Silence, and the wash of distant traffic passing below.
“...Do you want to go have sex?” Iron Man asks.
“Yes,” Steve answers, quickly.
“Thank god, I was starting to wonder if it was just me. C’mon-”
-
They end up in Steve’s room, and Tony knocks a picture frame off the wall in the dark. Steve laughs, says Fury and the Howling Commandos won’t mind, and begins pulling off his gloves. Tony switches to infa-red vision, and watches him greedily. The gloves glow dull red against the seat of Steve’s desk chair, and the scale mail top seems to radiate light from within as Steve takes it off, the form-fitting leather far hotter than the quick-cooling Duraluminum scales. Steve is molten, a shining shadow of gold and orange. For a moment after he removes his shirt and cowl, the heat lingers on his skin in the shape of his costume, painting him in a dissolving suit of lemon yellow.
Steve’s eyes are bright tangerine pools, his heart a steady lozenge of slow-flickering warmth splashed across the center of his broad chest...
Tony catches his breath at the sight, then touches a control inside the cuff of his left gauntlet, de-polarizing his armor. Abruptly, the golden mesh protecting his arms and legs turns to the consistency of heavy, slippery silk. It falls down into his telescoping gauntlets, and the tops of his boots. Steve turns at the unfamiliar sound, a soft, sliding rattle like the links of fine jewelers’ chain. He smiles and steps forward, one hand outstretched in the dark. Tony touches Steve’s wrist, and draws Steve’s hand forwards until Steve’s fingers brush his unarmored shoulder.
Tony’s breath hitches, just a little.
Steve doesn’t hesitate. His hand closes around Iron Man’s upper arm, solid and gentle. The bodyguard’s muscles do not disappoint, but remind him more of the balanced power of a workman than the hard definition of a bodybuilder. There are scars here too, but fewer of them, like the last few pellets on the outer edge of a shotgun blast.
Tony takes a steadying breath, and hopes he’s not trembling.
He points his hands down, and lets the weight of his metal gauntlets pull them down off his fingers. They fall to the carpeted floor with a heavy clash, one after the other. He reaches out, and puts both hands against Steve’s chest, fingers apart. He very nearly leans in to see how Steve’s skin tastes, but remembers he’s still wearing his helmet and checks the motion just in time.
Steve reaches up with his free hand, and knocks on the side of Iron Man’s helmet twice.
“Forgot something, Shellhead?” He teases, smiling.
“No...” Tony swallows, eyes closed. Steve smells AMAZING, like warm leather straps, sweat, old-time beeswax, and the tang of rusting metal. “...Rule number one... don’t ever touch the light switches.”
“Okay,” Steve nods quietly, running his hand along the outside of Iron Man’s arm.
“Ru-rule number two...” Tony’s hands slide up Steve’s chest, and onto his shoulders, “-my chestplate doesn’t come off.”
“...Really?” Steve blinks.
“Yeah, I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“Rule number three... after I remove my helmet... I don’t talk.”
“If that’s the way you want it,” Steve promises, “-but just for the record, that’s a little bit kinky.”
“My voice synthesizer’s in my helmet wise guy,” Tony says wryly, “-trust me; it would be kinkier to leave it on.”
“...Have you tried that?” Steve can’t help asking.
“Twice,” Tony admits, candidly.
“How will I know if I’m doing something you don’t like?”
“I’ll tap out, just like in a wrestling match. Same goes for you.”
“Do you have all this written down somewhere?” Steve asks, in his best ‘Private Rogers’ voice.
“NO,” Tony laughs, and reaches up to take off his helmet.
-
Steve remembers walking Iron Man back towards the bed, remembers the way it felt more like fighting in slow motion.
He remembers long, clever fingers tracing down his stomach like they’ve never touched abs before.
He remembers the ticklish texture of scattered hairs passing under his palm when he found the courage to run a hand down the back of Iron Man’s thigh.
He remembers using the bottom edge of Iron Man’s chestplate to lift him up, and forwards.
He remembers breaking contact suddenly, because he was about to come from what Iron Man’s mouth was doing to the base of his left ear.
He remembers the sudden warning grip of Iron Man’s fingers just above his knee.
He remembers ending up on the floor in a tangle of bedclothes when Iron Man discovered he was ticklish.
He remembers the feel of a smooth, circumcised length hardening within the circle of his fingers.
He remembers a choked, desperate noise, muffled with teeth against the front of his shoulder.
He remembers a low laugh that he almost didn’t hear, and warm breath along the crease of his thigh.
He remembers fire, and sweat, and the catch and slide of living velvet against his palm.
He remembers finding a short, deep, diagonal scar on the inside of Iron Man’s left thigh, and having his hands guided firmly away from it.
He remembers letting Iron Man bend one of his legs far up and over, and remembers the way the bodyguard paused to run his hand wonderingly all the way from Steve’s ass to his toes once he had it there.
He remembers stretching his fingers up in between the small of Iron Man’s back and the hard metal edge of the chestplate, and feeling the other man’s knees buckle.
He remembers closing his hands around one of the lower bedposts, and swearing.
He remembers trying to lick a fitting on the front Iron Man’s chestplate as a joke, and getting shocked a little.
He remembers kneading the bodyguard’s firm ass in both hands, and feeling the other man’s hips tremble as they tried not to thrust against him.
He remembers realizing that he’d been kissing Iron Man off and on all night without thinking of the mustache as strange.
He remembers waking up because Iron Man moved, and hearing the slight metallic clank as the bodyguard touched his helmet to make sure it was still on the nightstand.
He remembers a drowsy arm sliding back around his waist, and the awkward indention of a metal circle against his shoulder blade.
He remembers covering that arm with one of his own hands, and hearing a soft snort against the back of his hair.
...And he remembers nothing more.
-
-the end, for now-
no subject
Three things that I love here, and I have to mention before I forget to do so:
Steve using the word "nancy". Hello there, Mr. Time-traveller!
The mention of the Swedish embassy. Because Sweden mentioned in fics always make me happy.
Tony/Iron Man's blunt delivery. KNOWLEDGE OF SOCIAL TACT = NIL.
B-but..! But! Oi, no big reveal? ::grins::
Possibility for a sequel, mayhaps?Or, unless I'm mistaken, is the reveal to come the morning after? That'd be a good surprise; go to bed with Iron Man, wake up with Tony Stark. I know I wouldn't complain.That sex scene? Very, very sensual. I especially like the not-utterly-perfect air about it. It's not awkward, exactly, but everything doesn't fall into place right away either. You really do get the feeling that they're discovering things as they go along, that this is new for them. I adore that.
Oh, I like this. I like this little AU 'verse. I won't beg for a sequel, because that's just annoying, but do know that there's a good foundation for one and you have at least one person who is very willing to read it.
Good job, girl! ♥
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And the identity reveal does NOT happen the next morning. Steve wouldn't violate Iron Man's trust like that.
That was why I started this story originally. I liked the idea of Steve getting involved with Iron Man -before- being aware of his true identity.
It doesn't MATTER, really.
Steve knows what kind of man he's dealing with, because he fights alongside him. ...The fact that Iron Man is so secretive also makes Steve feel safer about the whole uh... 'nancy' angle.
I do have a general idea of where the story would go from here, but I got sidetracked by another idea while I was writing this one, and I had to run with it. I figured it was better to leave this one here than subject you guys to a cliffhanger.
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Breaking News: Tony Stark's bodyguard is as socially smooth as a hedgehog.
(Not that I don't absolutely adore the exchange, because blunt delivery is the best way of propositioning sex, full stop. "Do you want to go have sex? /.../ Thank god, I was starting to wonder if it was just me. C’mon-" = aajahkfdsegnfhngthdgflkhnglkh♥♥)
Ngrrgh, identity porn. Gah, much you cram so much awesome into one single fic? And yeah, it really does take the pressure off Cap, doesn't it? I do wonder how he'll take the reveal. Ah well, imagining the different scenarios is a fun pass time.
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There needs to be a big reveal and angst and understanding, but if not just this on it's own is perfect. Well done!
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I would poke you for more, but I'm sure everyone else will be doing it too :)
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his hair smells of Tony Stark’s expensive shampoo
If Steve doesn't put this together himself but finds out by accident, he will kick himself for having missed all the little clues. Once he is done kicking Tony for not telling him, that is. Unless the demasking accident led to Tony being hurt, in which case there'll probably be less kicking and more angsting and/or smothering. ...I don't seem to consider Tony telling Steve of his own volition to be a possibility.
And it's already been said, but that sex scene, oh, it's just beautiful. Logically speaking taking away one sense should make it less, not more sensual, but this... paints the scene. Dark, hot breath, whispered touches that must have ghosted over skin in-between the sure, purposeful ones...
I really, really enjoy this.
-the end, for now-
Define now?
no subject
Steve -has- all the clues he needs to put this together.
He also has a major unacknowledged problem with class differences (canon).
Tony didn't know it at the time, but by letting Steve choose between a quirky genius millionaire and his scarred but unbroken bodyguard, he created a rare loophole in that.
Steve's subconscious knows DAMN well that Iron Man is actually Tony, but it's deliberately not pushing that information to the surface.
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“Yes,” Steve answers, quickly.
“Thank god, I was starting to wonder if it was just me. C’mon-”
I laughed SO hard at this! XD So much awesome! I can't wait for more!!!
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Love to see how Steve finds out (Molecule man?)
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:flails: so much identity porn! How careful both of them are and Steve just *getting* it and meeeeep.
Plus clues, that, as someone up there said, will cause a lot've yelling when the reveal happens.
However, one thing I've loved, loved loved since the last bit (I think i didn't comment because I had a weird connection on the train) is the fact that Tony is wearing makeup/latex to cover the scarring he got from the original blast all the time in his 'normal' life. How much scarring, might one ask?
no subject
scars!Tony's kind of motivated to fix this problem.
In the issue, Cap woke up in a river with black hair and with someone else's face. He kinda freaked out at first, but when he managed to get back to the Avenger's mansion, Iron Man took a look, said something like, 'I wouldn't flinch if I were you' and cut the polymer 'face' off of Cap with a glove-scalpel.
Apparently this stuff is high-tech as hell, and you can wear it up to three weeks before it starts coming off.
What Tony just wore home from Paris was like a... beta test version of this.
As to the actual blast damage to Tony in this story...
[semi-spoiler and totally excessive detail level to follow-]
It would have been a lot easier to fix if he hadn't been captured by NVC immediately afterwords, but he was. They didn't care what he looked like, they just wanted him alive, so they were pretty sloppy putting his cheek and jaw back together.
Yeah. Jaw. -Together-.
It was broken in two places, and an inch long section of bone was basically pulverized in the initial explosion. When he got back to the States, the surgeons literally had to break it to even -begin- fixing it. Tony had them replace the missing section with several thin steel plates, and an appropriately-shaped chunk of porous Teflon-calcite (he invented this compound for the occasion).
Tony's face is a work of art. Literally.
When they got done repairing his jaw they had a lot of dental and cosmetic work left to do, but his doctors weren't imcompetant.
Tony doesn't look as bad as he thinks he does.
The lower right side of his face has a somewhat patched and uneven appearance from various skin grafts, especially along his jawline, and his cheek seems to dip in just slightly too much on that side... but that's the worst of it, and considering how much vascular and nerve damage there was when he was brought home, that's saying a lot.
There's a small lateral scar on his right ear, and significant (though smooth rather than pitted) burn scarring running from just under the right side of his chin all the way down to his collarbone.
Aside from the mustache, Tony will -never- be able to grow proper facial hair. He has three 1/2 to 1 1/2 inch scars on the left side of his face, all consistent with the direction of the blast, and none that actually twist anything. There's a small diagonal scar across the bridge of his nose that will flush pink faster than any of the others when he blushes.
The last piece of damage from the neck up is almost undetectable. Tony's legally blind in his right eye, because the lens was torn loose -within- his eye by the shock-wave. Yes, this -can- happen.
He can still see color and light out of it, but only the left one focuses.
If anyone ever puts on his helmet, they're going to discover a fascinating series of peripheral mirrors bouncing left-side images towards the right side to compensate for this.
Tony has a small burn scar and several more of the 1/2 to 1 1/2 inch shrapnel scars on his arms, and one slightly longer one on the outside of his right elbow. The scar on the inside of his left thigh is less than an inch long, but it dips in a little where the muscles were cut (they're all better now).
His heart is completely artificial, as is the lower third of one lung.
...Beyond that, he's surprisingly healthy.
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Thanks.