fossilised | Birthday fun

Birthday fun

It all started with a cake. Not enough stories these days did anymore, especially not in the lives of the Avengers. This wasn't just any cake either. It wasn't store-bought, picked up from the grocery with a hope that the teenager doing the lettering spelled a name correctly. It wasn't from a fancy bakery, though the person who had taken it upon himself to do the baking could have afforded something outlandish. No, this cake came from various boxes and cartons, the contents of which were painstakingly mixed together in more or less the way the recipe card was read off.

There may have been some corners cut, the eggs might not have been carefully folded (mostly because how do you fold eggs when they're goopy), the buttercream might be too runny, but the result was still fairly remarkable.

Even more remarkable was how intact it arrived, in a box in the back of an Audi, to all the usual fanfare Tony himself enjoyed when speeding through the security gates that those working at the Compound feverishly rushes to open for him. One scratch on that car would mean less of a Christmas bonus for everyone.

The cake was transported carefully from the back of the car towards one of the living quarters, a building shared by most of the non-retired Avengers. It did not need to be announced, so the man carrying it didn't bother to knock. Not at the front door and not at the recipient's bedroom. There was no need. No one would be awake anyway.

The time on his watch read 11:58 and so the cake was forced to wait a full two minutes until the day rolled over to be dramatically presented.

Tony Stark burst through the door and JARVIS started the Star-Spangled Banner on his cue, red and blue lights flashing. It was all beautifully patriotic, much like the cake itself, decorated to resemble Captain America's shield. "Happy Birthday, Grandpa!"

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There were two options now. Ignore Barton or acknowledge him. What Tony wanted to do was shoot him, but that would be a mess. He’d been on the news enough already for stupid things and the shooting of a teammate didn’t need to join the rest. Of course, given his status, it probably wouldn’t make the news at all but his teammates would be pretty pissed off.

It turned out that yes, Tony Stark did care what his teammates thought about some things.

Woh a huff, Tony sat back on his heels and set his motor oil covered hands on his thighs before he looked up at the archer. “Great. So stop making it your business.”

Neither confirm nor deny. Right? That was the way you’re supposed to go about it, huh?

"Love to, but if you want my advice then you'll cool it or take the next step, because the way you're going on now, even Steve's going to notice."

By which he meant, either back off from this weird obsessional crush, or break it off with Pepper so that he could actually ask Steve out on a date. Clint had an idea that Steve might not say no, he wasn't as old fashioned as people thought and he had more of a suspicion that he maybe used to be more than just friends with Bucky Barnes.

"Nothing to be ashamed of. Hell, I have a crush on him, and I don't even swing that way. I think it's all in the shoulders."

“I don’t want your advice,” Tony said with a grit to his teeth. “I have about fifteen minutes left of work and then you can find someone else to pester. JARVIS, let’s get those tunes back.” He was going to be damned if people got the wrong (right) impression of him. It was bad enough that his detractors already sought to outdo themselves on the dirt that they managed to dig up. This…while not ruinous exactly, was what he didn’t want for any of them.

Steve’s reputation would be marred. Pepper would be even more upset, despite her vindication. And Tony couldn’t handle either of those things.

If Romanoff and Barton knew when he barely spent time with them, perhaps based on what Steve might have told them recently, perhaps because Tony had been in denial for so long about his constant trips over here that he never himself noticed how he acted, it was only a matter of time before Steve knew. And Steve could never know.

Never.

Tony worked quickly to finish what he was doing, more quickly than he had planned. Barton sat up there, watching, judging, smirking in amusement with secrets of his own that no one could ever guess. When the bike was put back together and shined up, Tony left. He left before Steve could return and he left without meaning to return again any time soon. He went immediately to see Pepper and won her back, though she might later come to regret that considering how they spent the days leading up to Christmas that year no matter how Tony kept himself busy by constantly working in his lab.

Tony had been erratic. Mouthy. Stupid. Yet, when the missiles came and the armor he’d been developing took him to safety and dropped him in the snow while wearing California-appropriate attire, it was not the safety of Pepper Potts that he was worried about. If his home was attacked, could the Compound be under attack too? And what about the people living there? What about Steve Rogers? Stupid to worry, maybe. Steve was safer than he was, left to drag his armor through the snow towards a light he hoped signaled civilization and not just a blurb on a map that meant nothing and now could not be accessed again.

Tony was lucky that Steve didn't notice, he was still getting used to Tony seeing him as a friend and not just the jerk dead guy who his father had cared about more than his own son. Besides which, Tony never seemed to come around any more, and whenever he went over to see him, he was always working and never seemed to find the time to come out and say hi.

He spent some time with Pepper, though, commiserating as she moaned about how hard Tony was working. She sometimes looked at him a bit oddly, as if with sadness or regret, but she usually covered it up pretty fast and he didn't want to pry.

When the attacks came, Steve was in the grounds and the first blast threw him into a snowdrift. He was the only one there, and whatever had dropped an explosive was already gone, so he didn't bother to stick around to do anything more than grab his shield and swing himself onto his motorcycle to head for Tony's, already trying to hail all of the others on comms.

It was the glint of moonlight off red armour that made him veer off road, a bloody gash on his forehead that he hadn't even noticed sticking his hair down awkwardly on one side.

"Tony? Hey! Tony, is that you?"

Tony wasn’t supposed to be here. That was the whole problem. He was supposed to be in Malibu, with Pepper, having arguments about his insomnia or about how really dumb it was to inject himself with nanotechnology that was set to kill anyone that tried to snuggle with him. He should have been doing more to track down the people that caused the blast that hurt Happy. But he wasn’t in Malibu. He was in New York, Upstate New York. He’d been doing plumbing work, go figure, in the quinjet, to the far Northwest of the grounds. Could SHIELD have taken care of it? Sure. But sometimes Tony just liked to be around where Steve was when he was stressed out.

He hadn’t even planned on seeing Steve at all this time, it was just a quick trip out to repair some valves, but knowing he was drinking hot chocolate and sketching (okay, so he usually watched him on security feeds only he had access to when he worked here) while the snow fell outside just made him feel better.

He ought to have known that something was burning, smelled it on the air. The ping on the map inside the HUD when he’d woken up from the blast, enveloped in the Mk IVXII, was not some distant point in middle America. It was the Compound. He’d been scooped up by the armor when he went unconscious from the missile strike, flown into some trees before the power source died, and woke up less than ten minutes later in familiar yet unfamiliar territory.

So excuse him, please, for not really understanding why Steve Rogers was coming to the rescue on his motorcycle. Tony was concussed pretty badly, his eyes were dull, and he was not feeling the cold in his black jeans and tee. “Did I die? Flights of Captain Americas motorcycle me to my rest?”

Steve had no idea what was going on.

He had no idea that this was Tony's doing by pissing people off that he really should have kept his mouth shut about, and that both the Compound and his home had been attacked, as well as anywhere else he might be, to 'prove' that they could get to him if they wanted to.

All he knew was that there was mischief afoot tonight, and that meant that he had to be extra vigilant. He had hoped that Tony might know more and be a help, but it was obvious when he got closer that he was injured. Concern filled his voice as he leapt off the motorcycle and headed to Tony's side, brow furrowed.

"You're not dead, but you're not looking great. Focus on me, can you tell me what happened?"

Tony’s eyes narrowed and he dropped the strap he was using to haul his dead suit back towards the burning light beyond the trees so that he could move more easily towards Steve. He didn’t quite touch him when he got there, though his hand did hesitate over his chest like another’s hand way back in Steve’s life, back when no one expected a scrawny recruit could ever be so muscle bound and broad. He wanted to touch Steve. He looked warm. Like a beacon.

That hesitation was enough to get him to rip his eyes from the blond, to trace across his face from eyes to ear so that he could blink at the dead armor.

“Uh. I don’t think it was me.” But of course he did, after a moment, when his brain caught up to him and his memory of that impromptu press conference and his angry words hit him like the cold he still wasn’t quite feeling. Focusing on Steve was easy, but it didn’t help. “Shit.” His breath came out in a burst of icy air and that aborted touch turned into a sudden grab for Steve’s shirt. Wide, brown eyes lifted back towards Steve’s face. Tony rarely looked scared, but anger hadn’t quite melted in yet.

Steve hadn't thought that it was Tony, but the sudden defensive reaction was enough to make him think that maybe he did have something to do with it after all. Not that he knew what, and even if Tony could be an abrasive bastard then it was no excuse to jump right to attempted murder.

He stepped forward and braced Tony under the elbows as his shirt was grabbed, keeping him upright. His face tilted down towards him, which meant that some of the blood sliding down his face dripped onto Tony's hair, which made his nose crinkle in disgust.

"Sorry-- I think I'm bleeding on you, but we can get you a shower once we're somewhere safe. Are you hurt?"

Tony didn’t hear a thing Steve was saying. His head was too busy working through everything that he had said, everything he had threatened. He’d given out his address, not if the Compound, but the place in Malibu. The Compound was fairly well known, though it took a lot of security clearance to get within a few miles of it thanks to SHIELD’s presence. If you were a person. If you had missiles—

Without really thinking about where his hands were going, and with Steve holding him up anyway, Tony went for Cap’s pockets, fishing around in the front and the back for a phone. His own had been behind him when the garage was targeted and probably laid under the rubble of what he had been working on.

It didn’t matter if he found a phone or not. Pepper would not be answering hers, though Without Tony there, without the implants going to work for him, there had been no way to save her unless she managed to be free of the mansion when it went down into the bay.

If there was anyone on this planet that honestly needed to be stopped before he got everyone killed, it was Tony Stark.

He didn’t answer Steve. He didn’t say anything at all save to shout at a voicemail if he could get it. His face was bruised and the blood on him was only partially his own. He didn’t need to answer Steve. He was hurt but he was ignoring it.

Steve didn't have his phone either, he kept it up in his room which, Nat was quick to point out on numerous occasions, completely defeated the object of having a phone that could move about with him. He had his earpiece in, having tried to hail the other Avengers, but that was it.

He got Tony to his motorcycle and awkwardly managed to get him sat on the front and then the Iron man suit behind him. There wasn't room for him to sit on the seat then, so he stood, perched on the back and leaning over both to reach the handlebars, just another feat of physical skill that the serum allowed him to achieve.

Still, it was slow going, he didn't want to knock Tony off the bike, and it would take an hour or so before they were back towards the Compound, half the wall blown off but otherwise relatively in tact.

Crunching through the snow with guilt eating through your stomach, inappropriate clothing, and a concussion could only have been made better by leaning back against Steve’s chest, two solid arms around him. He couldn’t be too cold when the guy gave off such heat and he almost thought about asking Steve to carry him, the motorcycle and the armor back to the Compound, like they were part of his USO show.

Keeping himself awake by telling jokes, however, wasn’t in the cards. His guilt washed over him and he found himself mumbling about how Happy had gotten hurt and how the Mandarin had taunted him. It was easier to talk to Steve than to most people, or maybe the force of the blast had left Tony more than a little punch drunk, but as he spoke, guilt and sorrow gave way to anger.

Tony was not the best person in the world to piss off. After your weapons kill thousands of people, one or two here and there that wrong you come easily.

“I need to make sure Pepper’s safe... and then I have to find this douche bag.”

Steve listened as Tony rambled during the drive. Obviously he shouldn't have taunted the Mandarin, but that didn't mean that this was entirely his fault; still, it would likely live with him for a long time and he might not ever forgive himself if people had been hurt irrevocably because of it.

"Pepper's gonna be fine, Tony."

She was a resourceful and strong woman, she'd have had failsafes if something went wrong, and even if their relationship might suffer for her being put in danger, she would be okay. She had to be.

"And then the team's all gonna help with this, you don't have to do it on your own."

“Yeah I do.” Stubborn. Angry now. Tony wasn’t going to let someone else clean up his mess unless it was DUM-E... And this went well beyond DUM-E’s capabilities with a dustpan and brush.

It was difficult to think this close to Steve. Months spent primarily apart had turned obsession into longing— And, let’s be fair, longing into obsession. This semi-conscious permission he had given himself to curl boldly to Steve wouldn’t last long, especially now that the Compound was back into view.

Still. It was nice. It was what he’d wanted to do for months. Maybe not this way, but he felt like he could just let go.

"Don't be an idiot, this is why we have a team."

He pulled up just inside the gates of the Compound, the motorcycle tyres spraying up a fine dusting of snow around them. Once the engine was off, the night seemed almost painfully silent, just them and the damaged buildings around them.

"What's the point in having friends, a team, if you don't let us help you when it matters?"

Tony took the first opportunity he could to climb off of the bike. His legs were stable, thankfully, and his knees neither locked nor turned to jelly. What Steve said was right. It made sense. But he still wanted to buck against it. He was used to doing almost everything else. This seemed like one of those times too.

He took a look at the buildings, only one still smoldering thanks to a few upgrades he had personally installed and maintained since opening the Compound with Steve and Romanoff a year and a half before. He’d run from the last chance to rebuild, and now destruction had followed him again.

The dizziness didn’t fade, but he crunches in the snow towards the garage he’d been working in, knowing Steve would follow. It was Christmas. No one else had been here. Small blessings, it seemed.

Tony turned towards the blond, the Iron Man suit and motorcycle visible behind him, and he nodded, reaching to put a hand to Steve’s forearm. It wasn’t to steady himself. “Make the call.”

The Compound seemed, suddenly, like an alien place to Steve. The smell of charring in the air and the faint fall of ash from above that tainted the snow white. It was too quiet, it should be full of laughter and the shouts of his team mates, it should feel like a home and not just a building.

He's pulled from his reverie by Tony acquiescing much faster than he imagined his friend might do, but he moves as soon as the words are out of Tony's mouth. He doesn't want him to change his mind again and do this alone.

It doesn't take long to send the call out and make sure that everyone who can be contacted, who is in range, is contacted and knows to come back. It'll just be him and Tony for a day or two, most people are far off, but at least Tony will have some backup.

"--it's done," his words were soft to Tony's back. "They're coming."

In the time it took for the gang to assemble, all save for Banner and Thor, Tony had managed to get the reactor in the armor repaired enough so that he could use it to go back into battle. He sat in the snow, as it had started to fall again through the roof of the battered garage with a heat lamp and a blanket, fingers long since numb.

If he noticed, it wasn’t immediately obvious. Tony could and did work through exhaustion, lack of food, and sometimes water too, depending on how focused he was. There was enough life and death on the line for him now to forgo everything but the task at hand.

Tony flew ahead of the quinjet, not just because he could, but because he wanted the time alone. Natasha found the Mandarin’s broadcast location and Tony was going to get there first and kill the son of a bitch.

Or that had been the plan. He hadn’t expected the Mandarin to be fraud. Or for the real villain to be ready to clobber him good outside of the suit and drag him off before the Avengers could arrive.

Steve spent much of the two days of planning helping to fix the Compound. Heavy labour gave his mind a respite and allowed him to actually sleep at the end of the day, plus it allowed him to clear a space for all of his friends to have somewhere to sit and plan, and rest when they needed to.

He was more than ready when they moved out, though. He had always been the kind of guy to prefer being in action over being still and passive, and this Mandarin fella really needed to be taken down. Of course, apparently it wasn't that easy, and now he wasn't even sure what to do with him.

Arrest him? Let him go?

And where the hell was Tony? He must have got here before them, and yet there was no sight of him at all. Leaving Clint to deal with the Mandarin, he and Nat began looking for Tony's whereabouts, worry rising in his throat when he found the suit unattended. Tony would never do that. Damn.

Tony had been tied up in bed before. He actually liked it. It was sexy, giving up some power, letting someone beautiful control his body. Maybe that’s what was missing now, the beautiful part. The two thugs he was dealing with were anything but beautiful. Neither were even mildly attractive. And the big guy was going a little too liberal on the electricity to the wire bed frame technique.

It was getting a little borderline painful and it was messing up the implants under his skin. He couldn’t feel them tugging the armor properly at all, like a few had gotten stuck in the off position.

He was enjoying his quips with Tweedles Dee and Dum until someone decidedly beautiful did show up. At least he got all of the preposition. Maya’s work, Extremis, the explosions, Happy— And then Pepper.

At least Steve would finally get his answer for wondering where Tony was. He just had to follow the sporadically flying pieces of Iron Man armor.

Damn it.

Steve raced off after the random pieces of armour faster than any of the rest of the team could keep up, their cries for him to wait only ringing in his ears instead of making him listen. He ran full pelt, fast enough to even make him out of breath by the end of it, and slammed into the right building.

Tony would be treated to the sight of one very sweaty Steve Rogers breaking through the door, shield in hand, glaring at the bad guys and talking with that no-nonsense I'm in charge voice that only came out on special occasions.

"Gentlemen, I suggest you all step back from my friend right now."

Now was not the time to get a hard-on but Tony was pretty sure he’d never had someone throw themselves through doors demanding his release before. “Great. Now I’m Zelda,” he groaned softly to himself, keeping his eyes on Steve rather than the threat that Aldrich Killian posed. The other two goons didn’t stand a chance by general principal but there was something terribly wrong with Killian.

Something he’d just been discussing with him when Steve broke in. He wasn’t complaining exactly, but Killian had the upper hand here, and not just because he was a creative, weird, evil mastermind.

His nose wrinkled as Steve took out the two men, ignoring Killian’s little added quip about being an appropriate Bowser. “Your friend is being offered a great opportunity. One you yourself had. Why don’t you run along and leave us alone?”

“What? Art classes? Basic training? I’m good!”

At least Tony is still quipping in an inappropriate way, that likely meant that he wasn't seriously injured or traumatised, just tied up and perhaps slightly hurt. Neither of which were good things, but they certainly beat out the alternative, and knowing Tony was okay helped focus his mind on the fight.

"Pretty sure this isn't an opportunity, it's a kidnapping."

Steve's shield left his hands like a bullet from a gun, designed to slam right into this smug jerk and knock him off his feet, even knock him clean out.

"You don't want to fight me, son."

Why did everyone have to be so super powered these days? Why did everyone want a piece of Project Rebirth? Didn’t anyone take a look at what trying to rewrite your genetic code to be like Steve Rogers did to people? Evidently not.

Tony winced as Killian was struck with the shield until he realized that it hadn’t exactly taken his arm off or knock him off of his feet. He’d caught the damned thing, and the edge had sliced off two of his fingers. They hit the ground with a sickening wiggle before the place that they had been attached lit up with coal red fire and birthed forth two new digits.

Tony pulled against the ties keeping him in place, cursing out loud. “What the—” Whatever else he said was immediately drowned out as heat and noise enveloped him. He closed his eyes tightly just as fire uncurled from Killian’s mouth. How did some guy he barely even remembered learn to breathe fire?!

That's new, and definitely not good. Steve's never seen someone catch his shield before, not and regrow some fingers right after. That means this fight might be a bit more strenuous than he thought it would, but it doesn't mean he's going to back down. Since when has Steve Rogers ever backed down from a fight?

He squares up and flicks his gaze around the room, learning the terrain and looking for possible advantages in his surroundings, avoiding the flames through dexterity that's been greatly enhanced.

"Tony, now would be a good time to call the suit."

He calls it out, even as he slams his fist into the wall to rupture one of the water pipes, sending a spray of water everywhere, hopefully dousing the flames.

“Oh really? Gee, Cap, I never thought of that,” Tony yelled, probably a touch over dramatic. He had been understanbly distracted at being the damsel in distress, enough that he had actually been forgetting to flex his arm muscles to pull the armor towards his position, but wouldn’t anyone be in his position?

Why did Steve have to use his Captain America voice around him? Why did Steve have to exist, and like pizza and jazz music and be so totally, incredibly, wonderfully himself?

And why did Steve never draw him?!

Maybe there were some questions that he really need to lay off of sometimes. It was unseemly.

As Killian revved up for another blast and Steve assessed the situation now that Killian had effectively dropped the shield and filled the room with smoke from the water’s contact with his overly heated skin, the first piece of armor finally appeared, gold titanium alloy shooting right into Killian’s torso as it headed towards Tony.

“Good job, 42!”

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