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cap_ironman2012-06-01 06:09 pm
Fic: Worshiping at the Modern Altar Chapter 2, PG-13
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
Beta: None
Summary: Steve and Tony uncover something truly sinister. How bad could a date get?
Pairings/Characters: Steve/Tony, plus loads of other characters... like everyone.
Word Count: About 6,300
Chapter One - LINK
Chapter Two - The Redline
Steve pulled up to the gated garage on the west side of Stark Tower. His motorcycle rumbled as it idled, sounding just as impatient as the man who built it. Though it was a little showy with its bright blue paint job and brushed chrome exhaust system, Steve loved it.
There were enough bells and whistles to make his head spin. The machine had interfacing with SHIELD’s network, allowing him to get a feed from headquarters anywhere, and a special download of Jarvis’s system that let him control all the computer functions with his voice. Tony had added that feature after explaining the tech panel unsuccessfully three times.
All of the gadgets were useful, but what Steve loved the most about the bike was that Tony had designed it with him in mind. The man liked to act as though it was no big deal, a good excuse for a project. Steve knew better. Tony didn’t do anything without a reason and spending days building a custom motorcycle by hand that he would neither own, nor ride had to have a good reason.
While he waited for the gate to rumble open and listened to Jarvis greet him, Steve wondered for the hundredth time if he should get rid of his apartment in Brooklyn. He and Tony had been dating for months. If Steve counted their first time together (which he did), they’d officially been a couple for five months and two weeks. Tony liked to think that they weren’t a couple until their first date, which was almost three weeks after they started having sex. Either way, staying in the tower at this point made more sense than driving back to his apartment for clean clothes. They shared a bed a few times a week when things were calm, every night if there was a crisis that required the whole team.
Steve swung his motorcycle into a spot beside a Maserati, a brand he knew from before the war. Not that he’d ever seen one in person until he met Tony. Like all of Tony’s cars, it was polished mirror-smooth. Steve used the reflective surface to adjust the collar of his worn out bomber’s jacket and fix his hair before he shut down his bike.
“I’ve paged him several times, sir, but he is still in his workshop,” Jarvis warned him as he stepped into the elevator.
Steve shook his head with a smirk, “Doesn’t surprise me. New project?”
“Yes, sir.”
He’d gotten strangely comfortable conversing with the tower’s computer. As bizarre as it was that the tower had its own brain, Steve found it extremely useful. Information was as close as asking a question to the air. Having it downloaded to his bike had been disruptive at first, especially when it was trying to give him instructions in the middle of a drive, but Jarvis helped him get around in the city he no longer recognized.
The moment the elevator doors opened to Tony’s shop, Steve’s ears were assaulted by obscenely loud rock and roll. Steve didn’t get Tony’s song choices. He was working on learning about how music had evolved during the decades he’d been asleep. The Beatles were one of his favorites, but Jimmy Hendrix was growing on him. The music Tony played was in a decade he hadn’t gotten to yet.
The workshop was huge. Even with as often as Steve had been inside, it still made him pause and look around. Most of Tony’s machines were way beyond Steve’s comprehension. He hadn’t quite gotten over the fact that a computer could fit into someone’s palm, since they’d taken up whole rooms when he’d seen Stark senior’s first model. The floating digital panels that Tony engineered were a little too much to handle.
It didn’t take him long to find Tony. There was a new vehicle, some kind of muscle car, in the center of the shop with its hood up. One of the robots Tony liked to verbally abuse was digging through a toolbox near its front bumper. Steve didn’t know whether it was Dummy or Butterfingers since Tony seemed to be the only one able to tell them apart.
As he rounded one of Tony’s workbenches, he finally caught sight of the man’s legs sticking out from under the car. They were clad in grease-stained jeans, one tennis shoe moving in time to the rock song. The robot arm held a tool low to the ground. Tony’s hand came out from beneath the car to grab it, and then promptly tossed it out again. The wrench clanged against the cement, barely missing the robot.
“Since when is a wrench a ratchet? You’re a pile of scraps on wheels. I said ratchet, Dummy. Should be in slot forty-eight B. Give me another wrench and I’ll-”
Steve put his foot on the edge of the dolly Tony was laying on and slid him out from underneath the car. He smiled at Tony’s surprised look, “You have no idea what time it is, do you?”
“You’re early,” Tony said defensively, not even bothering to look at his watch.
Pushing his hands into his pockets, Steve raised an eyebrow at his eccentric boyfriend. He would’ve been annoyed, if he wasn’t so used to it. When Tony got an idea, there was no telling when he’d realize the rest of the world had moved on without him. Too many times to count, Tony worked through a meal or an important meeting because there was something interesting to build.
At this point, Steve found it oddly endearing, especially when the billionaire was covered in black smudges and looking up at him as innocently as he was capable of being. “We said lunch at one,” Steve reminded him.
“Right, and you’re early.”
It was almost five minutes after one. Steve had trouble keeping up with a lot of the technological advancements, but a digital clock was not one of those. Jarvis kept the clock on his bike updated to the second.
Tony got up and gave him a quick kiss that evolved into something deeper when Steve snagged the front of his shirt. Disregarding the engine grease, Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s back and pulled the smaller man against him. The coarse hair of Tony’s beard made the skin of his mouth tingle.
Breaking away, Steve said, “Go shower, I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” Tony answered as he leaned in to recapture Steve’s lips.
The ways Tony could manipulate his tongue always made Steve’s toes curl. Kissing him made Steve burn with want, no matter where they were or what they were doing. It was almost embarrassing how turned on he got by a simple look or touch. Tony knew exactly how to push his buttons.
Before he could get too hot and bothered, Tony withdrew, “I was thinking tapas for lunch. And no, it’s nothing like shawarma.”
Steve hadn’t been particularly fond of their first victory feast, so it was a bit of a running joke between the two of them whenever Tony took him somewhere new. Exotic cuisine didn’t always agree with Steve’s “incredibly boring palate,” as Tony liked to put it. He’d grown up on homemade American classics that had never included things like curry or cumin or any of the other spices that weren’t salt and pepper.
“What is it?” Steve asked warily, wanting to argue the choice if he thought it was necessary.
Tony squeezed his shoulder and walked off, his face an unreadable mask, “Going to shower.”
“Tony, what is it?”
“Give me ten… no, who am I kidding- make it thirty minutes at least.”
“Tony!”
The other man turned so he was walking backwards, “I could be convinced to go faster if I had somebody to wash my back.”
“Did I mention I was hungry?” Steve had to raise his voice since Tony was already stepping into the stairwell.
“Your loss, Cap.”
Steve sighed. He wanted to take Tony up on his offer, but he knew they’d be delayed an hour or two and his stomach was already collapsing in on itself like a black hole. Tony was right, he was always hungry. On one hand, it was nice to be able to eat anything he wanted, but on the other, he was ready for another meal almost as soon as he was finished and he missed getting drunk. It was an unfortunate side effect of the serum.
“Jarvis,” he called to the air, sitting at the closest workbench to wait. “Can you tell me where he’s planning on taking me?”
“I’m afraid I’ve been sworn to secrecy, sir.”
“Alright, can you define tapas for me?”
It was like playing a game of hide and seek with Jarvis’s database when Tony intentionally tampered with it to mess with him. Tony would seal away what he thought Steve would ask for and Steve had to come up with the questions that took advantage of the loopholes. What really sent Tony over the edge was when Steve “cheated” and didn’t use the computer to get his answers. He could find something physically a lot faster than he could play Tony’s game. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a way around it when the thing Tony was hiding was digital.
After a lengthy silence, Jarvis admitted, “Sir, that word has been removed from my vocabulary.”
“Okay, bring up Tony’s agenda for the day.”
A blue projection appeared at the desk, showing an hour-by-hour breakdown of Tony’s life. Under one o’clock, it read, “I do have a master’s degree. Try again.”
Steve chuckled. The man was too smart for his own good. Leaning back in the chair so he could prop his shoes on the table, Steve stared at Tony’s note while he thought. Tony was very careful to cover his bases, always blocking every path through Jarvis with mechanical precision. What he usually forgot to take into account were people. The human element was always the most unpredictable.
“Jarvis, get Happy on the phone for me.”
By the time Tony got back from his shower, Steve had an address, a reasonable idea of what tapas was, and a new plan for transportation. Steve was pleased to see that his boyfriend remembered to dress down. The suits were nice, but they drew attention. It was sort of Tony’s signature and Steve preferred to date without a line-up of guards keeping the public away.
In dark wash jeans and a t-shirt that proclaimed, “Yes, I am a genius. Next question,” Tony was only slightly less noticeable. It was hard to hide a man whose personality was larger than life.
Tony stopped mid-stride and tilted his head. Steve was trying not to smirk, but was clearly failing. It didn’t surprise him when Tony asked, “How’d you get in?”
“If I keep telling you how I do it, you’re going to keep making it harder,” Steve said with a laugh. He got up and pushed the chair underneath the workstation.
Knowing Tony would be on his heels, he started for the elevator. He could feel Tony’s scrutinizing glare on his back. It felt good to get the best of him on occasion. Tony won almost all of their arguments, mostly because the man thought a mile a minute. Steve didn’t mind, he was a good sport, but he liked it when Tony got that rare dumbfounded expression. It was the fact that it was rare that made it adorable.
They got into the elevator together and Steve punched the button for the ground floor. Tony pulled out his latest hand-held gadget, assumedly to follow Steve’s trail through the database. His focus was so intent that Steve had to lean over and steal a kiss. For half a second, Tony’s thumbs stilled while their tongues languidly danced. Steve’s lips twisted up on one side when Tony’s device beeped and he immediately pulled away to check the results.
“You called Happy?” The question was torn between shock and annoyance, with an undertone of pride.
Jarvis cut in, “You have reached the ground level.”
Steve entered the lobby, intentionally not looking back, “Yeah, and I told him to cancel our ride. We’re taking the subway.”
He didn’t have to try too hard to picture Tony’s face. His eyes would be wide enough to see the whites, his mouth hanging open just slightly while he tried to figure out if Steve was being serious. Trying to get the man out of his comfort zone was difficult, but Steve was determined to help Tony to step out into the real world every once in a while.
The only sound was the heavy thump of his boots on the tile, and then Tony was following him again, “I’m not taking the subway. You don’t want Happy to drive us, fine; we’ll take one of my cars.”
“It’s not Harold, he’s a nice guy.”
“Harold? Nobody calls him Harold but his mother.”
Steve pushed open the deceivingly light double doors that faced the street, holding one for Tony to go through. It was cool outside for May, cool enough that Steve thought about telling Tony to get a jacket. Considering he was already stretching Tony’s tolerance by suggesting the subway, he decided against it.
“I want to take the subway. It’s pretty interesting if you’ve never done it.”
Tony’s glare spoke of murder, but he quickly covered it by pointing in the direction of the garage, “We could take your bike. I haven’t been on that yet.”
Steve let the door swing shut while he considered. Tony had outright refused to ride on the motorcycle with him, so it was still a victory. It was a much smaller victory. Though, the idea of having Tony’s arms around him the entire drive was tempting, but that was if it played out that way. Tony was more likely to grab onto the seat or his shoulders.
“Come on, it’s only a few blocks away, and your restaurant is right by the Columbus Circle station,” Steve made his decision, turning north.
Tony caught up to him and fell into step on his left, “Do you know why I own sixteen cars?”
“No, but you’re about to tell me.”
“So that I don’t have to take public transportation. The public is on public transportation and, if you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit of a celebrity. Have you been watching that TV I got you?” There was an ounce of panic hidden in his annoyance.
Steve stretched his arm out across Tony’s shoulders, enjoying how the smaller man’s tension faded at his touch, “Half of New York is still wearing your beard. Lose the expensive sunglasses and the watch that looks like it cost more than the SHIELD airship, and we should be fine.”
“When we’re getting mobbed, I’m going to hit you,” Tony grumbled as he pulled his watch off and stuck it in the pocket of Steve’s coat.
“Fair enough.”
Tony hesitated again at the stairs leading into New York’s underbelly, but only long enough for Steve to get to the first landing without him. By the time Steve was digging out cash to pay for Tony’s ticket, the man had his wallet in hand and was eyeing the METRO card machine as if it might start shooting missiles at him.
“You want an all day pass?” Steve joked.
“Oh no, this is a one-way deal. Happy is picking us up from the restaurant.”
There was a line of people building up behind them, so Steve ordered a one-way and shoved a five-dollar bill into the machine. He grabbed up the yellow card and passed it to Tony as he made for the turnstiles.
“How come you treat my computers like they have the plague, but you can work the METRO thing like you built it?”
Steve pulled his annual card out of his back pocket, shooting Tony a smile, “I’m on the train a lot.”
“I built you a motorcycle,” Tony pointed out as he tailed Steve through the metal turnstiles.
“It’s a sentimental thing. I didn’t have a car back…” he remembered to edit himself just in time, “Back when I lived here before, so I used the subways.”
Tony stepped wide around a man sitting on the floor with a guitar. The musician wasn’t bad, his strumming a soulful mix of music from the sixties and seventies. It was appealing enough that Tony did an about-face and listened to him. Steve came back when he realized he’d lost him.
“It’s very Eric Clapton,” Tony said.
The name sounded familiar. Steve knew he’d listened to his music, but the band he was with wouldn’t come to mind. Whoever it was, Tony was impressed enough to get some money out of his wallet and toss it in the guy’s open guitar case. He was moving again an instant later, picking up where they left off.
“So, what did you use to pay for the train back in your day? Was it shells or shiny rocks?”
Steve rolled his eyes and led them towards the northbound trains. Behind them, the guitarist stopped playing and shouted, “Hey, thanks man!”
It always amazed Steve how hot it was underground. The deeper they went, the hotter it was. Even in his day, people complained that it was like a decent into hell. Steve thought it was all the machinery that made the tunnels so unbearable, but somehow the advances in technology hadn’t brought them any closer to cooling things down.
They didn’t have to wait long for a train. They got on the first redline that came by, getting some seats near the end. Steve spread his arms out over the back of the rusty-orange bench and Tony leaned casually against his bicep. He could tell Tony was still uncomfortable and it didn’t help that the train they’d ended up on was one of the older models.
Flat surfaces everywhere had been written on or spray-painted. Even the glass had words etched into it. Steve wasn’t ignorant of the fact that Tony was a bit of a germaphobe, even though he had to research the word when Clint had used it to describe him. Tony didn’t like to be anywhere that wasn’t clean, which was evident in his extremely sterile home. He didn’t like to handle things other people had touched first and he really couldn’t stand sharing eating utensils.
Steve was a little surprised he wasn’t complaining more. It must’ve taken a massive amount of self-control to keep Tony from climbing up on Steve’s shoulders so he wasn’t touching anything. Steve didn’t expect to see the outfit Tony was wearing ever again. The billionaire would probably burn it when he got home. Or have it burned for him.
Fortunately, the fact that the train was dirty was the worst of it. A few of the other passengers gave them strange looks, but there certainly wasn’t the mob mentality Tony seemed to think there would be. A woman in her early twenties with mousy, brown hair kept glancing at them around her book, flushing when Steve made eye contact with her. Feeling a bit awkward, he gave her a tight smile and she quickly turned her attention to the novel in her lap.
The olive-skinned man sitting across from her got up. Using the overhead rails to keep his balance, he made his way down the train car to sit next to Tony and Steve. “Hey, man,” he addressed Tony, his voice thick with the accent of New Yorker born and raised. “Are you Tony Stark? I gotta know, man, I’m a huge fan of Iron Man.”
Other passengers turned their heads from their personal distractions. They looked up from newspapers and books and laptops, curious. Steve watched them with a small swell of dread. He was beginning to think that this was a bad idea after all.
Tony cocked an eyebrow at the man, “If I was Tony Stark, why would I be on the subway?” The words were pointed, and clearly aimed at Steve. “Wouldn’t I be driving one of my expensive cars, or be in the back of a limo drinking scotch?”
The guy blinked at him as though his words were processing, then leaned back with a deep, belly laugh, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But, man, you look a hell of a lot like him.”
“I win the look-a-like contest every year.”
Tony’s statement made him laugh even harder. He was turning red and slapping the knee of his cargo shorts. A small speaker on the wall announced the next stop, making the man quiet down. He swiped a thumb under one eye as he got to his feet, “You take it easy, man.”
“You too.”
The train slowed, making everyone that was de-boarding sway slightly. A few dozen people got off and at least twice as many got on. To avoid any more attention, Steve didn’t comment on what had happened. The commuters were going back to ignoring them and he wanted to keep it that way.
Thinking back to what Happy had said about their impending meal, Steve said, “I don’t know how you think I’m going to get full on miniature plates of food.”
“They’re designed for tasting. We’ll order more than one,” Tony explained, his amusement barely hidden. He reached over and squeezed Steve’s thigh. “Don’t worry, if we have to stop on the way home to get you a burger, or three, we will.”
Public displays embarrassed Steve. It had been a year and a half since he’d woken up in a new century, but every little show of affection worried him. He was always concerned that they were going to get attacked or thrown in an asylum for rehabilitation. He’d known boys like him when he was young, boys that were discovered and never seen again.
But when Tony let his hand linger on his leg, he decided he liked it there. No one in this new century seemed to care, and if they did, they didn’t dare challenge Steve. Tony’s touch wasn’t too high, just casual contact that the shorter man was initiating more and more. He did it whenever he was sitting close enough to touch, pressing his thigh against Steve’s on the couch or letting his foot wander over to brush his under the table. When he’d started dating Tony, he’d never expected the egotistical playboy to crave contact. It was almost out of place in his laundry list of personality quirks.
Abruptly, the wheels on the train locked up, throwing passengers into each other and pitching a few to the floor. Steve grabbed Tony’s arm to keep him from slamming into a handrail. He simultaneously caught a kid with dirty, black hair and helped him upright.
They screeched to a stop between stations, the overhead lights flickering sporadically until the electricity stabilized. Murmuring filled the stagnant silence. A few passengers immediately got settled again, but the rest peered around as though someone on board would have answers.
Tony grumbled something Steve didn’t hear, digging his phone out of his pants pocket. The speaker above them clicked and a man’s voice came on, “Sorry about the jolt, folks. There seems to be a problem on the tracks ahead, might take a little while to clear it.”
The commuters collectively groaned.
“Wonder what it is,” Steve said quietly, leaning his head against the scratched glass. The tunnel was dark in either direction.
“I’ll know in just a…” Tony trailed off and pressed on his earpiece to help him hear whatever radio he’d accessed. If Steve had to guess, it was probably a police scanner. As Tony’s expression darkened, Steve tensed. When Tony spoke again, he kept his voice low so no one would overhear, “A train derailed. It’s so bad they’re having a hard time getting people out.”
Their eyes met and an unspoken agreement passed between them. They had to do something. Tony got up ahead of him, Steve nearly stepping on his heels as they moved towards the door between train cars. The tense sea of people separated for them. As far as Steve could tell, only one wizened old man had a knowing expression. He could have sworn he heard him say, “Get ‘em, Cap,” as they went by.
Tony slammed the door open and ducked underneath the coupling chain that held the cars together. Gravel crunched when he hit the ground. Steve dropped down after him, waiting for a breath while Tony consulted his phone.
“It’s this way, up almost at Fourteenth Street,” Tony said and pointed down the tracks.
They’d only just past Canal, so it was about a mile down the rail. Steve hoped there weren’t any splits they had to worry about. He assumed Tony could figure out how to get there with his tiny computer, but Steve didn’t want to rely on it.
Lowering his pace so Tony could keep up, Steve took off at a run. Thankfully, Tony was in extremely good shape and didn’t have any trouble matching him. They sprinted alongside the train for a few dozen yards, drawing quizzical faces to the windows. As they passed the lead car, an employee got out and yelled at them. They didn’t stop and the man didn’t chase them.
Beyond the train, the tunnel was black. Steve slowed when the darkness was complete, not sure where to put his feet. It would be easy to miss a turn and end up tripping over a rail. He blindly reached out and grabbed Tony. His hand closed on the other man’s side, yanking at his shirt.
“Hold on, we’re not going to get anywhere like this,” Steve said.
He could see the faint glow of Tony’s reactor leaking through the thick cotton of his clothes. It wasn’t even close to what it was designed for, but the thing put off enough light for them to see. Steve ripped the front of Tony’s shirt to reveal the luminous disk. The white-blue light illuminated their dismal surroundings, as well as Tony’s glower.
“I could’ve taken it off.”
“Sorry,” Steve responded sheepishly. “You can wear my coat when we get there.”
Tony resumed their run and complained, “I feel like Rudolph.”
“Hey, I know that one,” Steve grinned, feeling a little swell of satisfaction that he understood one of Tony’s references. Even with Clint’s efforts to get him caught up on the times, he was hopelessly lost when it came to modern culture.
“I thought that song came out in the fifties.”
“Song? It was a book they gave out to kids one Christmas, just before the war started.”
The tunnel unfolded ahead of them about a hundred feet at a time, Tony’s reactor wasn’t bright enough for much more. Every so often, Steve would catch a gleam of rodent eyes in the dark. The rats were always gone before he and Tony reached them. Otherwise, there was nothing to look at but walls that were black with grime and the occasional pile of trash from vagrants long gone.
Listening to his boyfriend’s heavy breathing, Steve realized that a place like this had to bring back some unpleasant memories. Whenever Tony woke up in a cold sweat from one of his nightmares, the first thing out of his mouth was how dark it was. Steve had picked up bits and pieces of the experience with each nightmare, listening to Tony babble as he came down out of his terrified haze. The reality the pieces became made him want to wrap Tony up in his arms and never let him go, but he’d learned very quickly not to touch the smaller man until he was completely awake. Tony was combative when the strands of his dream still had him.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m peachy,” he responded dryly. Tony cast a glance over his shoulder, his tone softening, “Just don’t start screaming at me in Arabic and I should be good.”
Steve joked because he knew it would put Tony at ease, “I don’t know much Arabic, I could do a few phrases in German though.”
Tony laughed. It was a little forced, the edges of each chuckle clipped off, but Steve’s effort wasn’t wasted. “I had no idea you spoke German.”
“Just useful phrases like ‘Put down your weapons’ and ‘Put your hands where I can see them’.”
Tony slowed down and turned towards the wall, the arc reactor brightening a piece of rail that bent outward. The third rail where the trains drew their power was sparking randomly. It was broken, but the power was still flowing through the bad connection. What drew Steve’s attention were the deep gouges in the gravel around it, all of the bits of rock had been blasted towards the wall with some force. It was difficult to tell with all the soot caked on the surfaces around them, but Steve could’ve sworn it looked like something exploded.
He let his gaze drift down the tunnel, narrowing his eyes to pick out scraps of rent metal and particles of wheel leading away from the blast zone. Tony crouched at the point where the rail had broken and what little light there was narrowed on the scorched radius. Faint shouts reached them, impossible to make out. They were just an echo of an echo, but the crash wasn’t far.
“Someone rigged it,” Tony finally said.
“Yeah, I was getting that feeling.”
They got moving without another word, sprinting with renewed drive. In the distance, Steve could make out the reddish glow of a fire. The trail of debris grew worse the closer they got, until they were climbing over chunks of obliterated train. Score marks dragged across the walls where the cars had connected with them, revealing the raw concrete underneath.
To the left, a crowded platform slowly came into view. The open space was thick with paramedics and firefighters, as well as cops and grimy, determined survivors. Beyond the station was the wreckage, filling the tunnel like a twisted metallic blood clot. Steve slipped his jacket off and tossed it to Tony. As they went from a sprint to a jog, Tony zipped the leather coat over his arc reactor.
Natasha’s words sprang to mind when they entered the chaos, “Move like you belong.”
Even if he wanted to look around to see if anyone was watching them, Steve couldn’t pull his eyes off the crash. The last two cars were on their sides and a few firefighters stood with their feet spread over the doorways, reaching down to lift passengers to safety. The rest of the train was jammed up in the tunnel. One car was titled sideways across the narrow space, the next up on its end and crunched against the ceiling as though it was made of aluminum foil. Beyond that was impossible to see, but the fire was definitely burning deeper in the tunnel.
That was also where the loudest screams were coming from. Servicemen and civilian alike were trying to clear the rubble, a few trying to find ways around it. Steve broke into a run again with Tony right behind him. He used his momentum to jump on top of the wedged train car, surprising a few of the fire fighters.
From his new vantage point, he could see how bad it was. Each car was at a different angle, and the deeper they went, the more shredded they got. The tunnel was almost completely blocked just a few feet in. If they had Tony’s suit, they might be able to clear it out, but it was going to take some heavy equipment to get through to the survivors.
A fire fighter with thick arms was using a machine that looked like a gigantic pair of scissors to cut into the metal. Others were peeling back the divided pieces as he worked. It was slow going. Between the heavy thrum of the cutters and the shriek of ripping metal, Steve barely heard Tony call out.
“Hey, Michael Jordan, a little help here?”
Steve knelt to grab Tony’s outstretched hand, hauling him up easily. When he got his first look at the carnage, Tony’s lips pressed into a thin white line and a muscle jumped on his temple. They both knew there wouldn’t be many survivors.
No one bothered them as they entered the wreckage. There was too much at stake to stop anyone who wanted to assist. Tony ran his analytical gaze over the mass of metal rammed against the concrete, guiding Steve to a riveted joint, “Can you get a hold of it here? That seam should pop open.”
Steve explored the roof with his fingers until he found a grip. It didn’t take much strength to strip the weakened rivets, the steel folding back like paper. As soon as the opening was large enough, Tony climbed through. Steve braced his foot against the wall and gave it another tug before he could consider getting his shoulders through the gap. It left his hands feeling raw.
He turned to yell for the paramedics but found a very young cop staring at him with eyes so wide it looked like they might fall out. Before the kid could start asking questions, Steve motioned towards the platform, “Tell them we found a way through.” When the rookie didn’t move, Steve raised his voice, “Now! Get anyone you can.”
The kid scrambled off and Steve slid into the opening after Tony. It was disorienting to walk across the side of the subway car, stepping over handrails with glass crunching underfoot. At the far end, he could see where the mechanical scissors were making their way through. Tony was gathering the people that were awake. He urged them towards the hole Steve had made in the ceiling, reassuring them softly.
Steve caught one woman’s arm as she tripped over the raised rectangle of door sticking up off the ground. She turned her face toward him, her expression caught between relief and lingering fright. There was a deep cut across her forehead, but she appeared unharmed otherwise.
“Careful,” Steve told the next man in line, pointing down at the floor. “Watch your step.”
Two paramedics clambered through the opening, gear in tow. The young officer followed them in. They took over the shaken handful of people, letting Tony examine the rest of the car. A middle-aged man lay on one of the cracked windows, his hands folded over his chest. Steve suspected the other commuters had already tried to care for him. The way his skull dented inward just above his ear told Steve enough, but Tony crouched down to press his fingers to the man’s thick neck. The corner of Tony’s mouth ticked and then he was up again.
Where the end of the car used to be, there was the siding of another part of the train. Red light leaked in through the gaps where the metal didn’t quite meet. Tony gave it a quick once over and then stepped back. He didn’t have to say anything, just show Steve where it was weakest. Steve grabbed a bar that was still bolted solidly and hoisted his mass off the floor. Swinging his weight forward, he kicked the sidewall with both feet. It gave way and the firelight flooded the car.
Tony had to turn sideways to get through the narrow opening, the leg of his jeans catching on a piece of metal with a loud rip. If it was difficult for Tony to fit, there was no way Steve could force his bulky frame without getting shredded. He pushed against the siding again, but it was jammed against the wall of the tunnel and wouldn’t give.
“Tony,” Steve called. “It’s too tight, I can’t get through.”
All he could hear was the crackle of the flames and the workers behind him. Steve’s chest tightened. Through the breach, he could see that the next car had split open like an overripe fruit. Fingers of ragged frame reached towards the ceiling, the remnants of glass glittering yellow in the fire burning on the other side.
“Tony!”
Tony came back into his view dragging a body, “He’s still breathing.”
The twig-thin teen had a badly mangled arm and blood seeping from his mop of curly hair. Steve hoped his neck wasn’t broken, because there was no good way to get him to the paramedics. Tony adjusted his grip underneath the boy’s arms and lifted him with a grunt. Steve had to lean against the shredded flooring to take him. The sharp edges peppered his shirt with holes as he wrapped his hand in the collar of the teen’s coat and carefully pulled him through.
“Got another one,” Steve shouted at the medical team.
As soon as the kid was clear, Steve maneuvered him so he was laying flat. One of the paramedics dropped down next to him, grabbing a temporary splint and a package of gauze out of his kit. Steve went to the breach to see if Tony found anyone else.
Tony had somehow maneuvered his way past the next car and Steve could barely make out his head and shoulders through a spider-webbed window. He was crouched down, examining something. Suddenly, Tony’s body jerked backwards and his expression flared with panic.
“Tony?!”
Tony stilled, that unnerving calm Steve only saw on his boyfriend before a dangerous fight coming down over his alarm, “Get them out of here.”
“Who?”
“Everyone. Police, fire department, everybody.” Tony looked at him through the fractured glass, “There’s a bomb.”
For the first time since he’d stepped into the subway, Steve was cold.Chapter Three: LINK
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XD Tony is such a cute scaredy kitty for some reason in my head from reading this chapter and I cannot wait for the next one! <3 Thanks for sharing <3
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Scared kitty Tony will not leave my brain now.... it's your fault *shakes fist*
Thanks for your kind comments :)
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But I did think you did a great job on developing how these two exchange their conversation. I couldn't think of a talk about weather between 1in a 10000 genius and American hero either lol.
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:) I'm up to chapter five (there's six chapters on the site, but one of them is essentially random filler).
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