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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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!”

The water does seem to be helping a bit, it's at least stopped another massive flare of the hot energy from coming out of Killian, but it's not been as effective as he might have hoped. The whole room is filled with humid steam now, enough to have sweat stinging his eyes as he launches another attack.

He grabs Killian and throws him into the wall where the water pipe is already broken to soak him completely, and follows it up with a punch to the face. And another. And another. He learned that during the war, that most of the time there were few problems that couldn't be solved through continual punching.

Hopefully Tony will have the armour on soon and be viable back up.

"Stay down, son." His words are punctuated with another thud of his wrist. "You don't want to face us all, you know you can't win that."

Being still tied to a bedframe did not make Tony a very successful candidate for backup. Nor did it really help him get the armor on. He probably should have heeded JARVIS’ many, many warnings about flying metal projectiles aimed at his decidedly soft body, and he might even give the AI some sort of programmed satisfaction later when he turned up all bruised again. Tony groaned as the pieces that could attach to him, did, until he managed to get Steve ‘I’ve totally got this whole knight versus the dragon thing down’ Rogers to help him out with the shackles.

The shield almost took his ear off too, but that was mostly Tony’s fault when a shin guard clipped him a little too close. One hand free was all he needed, and as the shield ricocheted back to Steve through the steam, Tony let one gauntlet cover his arm and used that to blast free the other.

It had been awhile since they’d fought, side by side. The fog made it surreal, the light of Tony’s repulsors shimmering against the water droplets and his armor. Pretty as it was, though, it was not practical at all and he ended up blasting a hole through the wall with his reactor to give them all some air.

The air was a good thing, but it was a double edged sword. Clearing away the fog improved visibility for both sides, and Killian wasn't down yet. It was clear that he was going down, though, even with whatever madness was going on inside his body that let him grow fingers back and spit fire. He and Tony working in tandem were excellent, and the others were only about ten minutes out if they really needed backup.

Steve threw the shield once more in a tactical arc, making it slam into Killian's left side so that he had to stumble towards the armour. Tony should get the finishing blow on this, after all, it was him that had been kidnapped.

Finishing blows were really just not what they seemed these days. Tony blasted him from both repulsers and the reactor at once and while Killian fell, he still got up again, glowing with bright molten flames as his skin knitted together.

Tony took a step back, the Iron Man armor clunking heavily as he worked with JARVIS to up the amps before he tried again. It took all of the energy in the suit to finally put Killian down and Tony fell to one knee, the weight of the armor without its power grid too heavy for him to manage anything else. The HUD went dark and the glow in the eyes of the mask faded.

“Uh. Little help here?”

Steve preferred not to kill if possible, but he never shied away from it when it was necessary. Some people seemed to find that surprising about him, as if they couldn't imagine Captain America with real blood on his hands, but they didn't understand that all soldiers knew how to kill for their cause.

He glanced over at Killian, just to make sure he definitely wasn't getting back up again, and then stepped to Tony's side to take him under one arm and haul him up. The armour weighed a lot, but no more than a motorcycle with three girls sitting on it, so the only outward sign of strain was his biceps flexing.

"You okay in there? Not hurt?"

He was just trying to figure out if he needed to get Tony out of the suit or not before they left.

Hurt? Yeah. He wasn’t doing great right now, his head ached and he had been electrocuted a few times for funsies. He wasn’t going to tell Steve any of that. Not when he was strutting around with enough testosterone to give a bull elephant a run for its money. “Fine,” he said, the armor keeping him upright when his legs might otherwise lock in place and topple him over.

Killian would be a mess for other people to clean up. Tony needed to find the lab where he had purportedly been doing his experiments first and try to save whatever people were there. It couldn’t be too far.

Tony took on a move or die if you don’t mentality for the moment, something Steve himself might understand. He’d lost... too much. And all from hubris he couldn’t really do much about now.

Somehow Steve didn't believe Tony when he said he was fine. If he had actually been fine then he would have no doubt got some long and inappropriate babble about his muscles and lifting the armour and all sorts of other inane nonsense. But that one word response, that told him that Tony was definitely not fine.

So he reached out and tugged on the faceplate to disconnect it and let it drop off to one side, and started to strip the gauntlets and chest plate piece by piece, more than strong enough to disconnect it even without power.

"Seems to me like you're not," he said, voice soft. "And that's okay, but you should know that you don't gotta lie to me."

“Woah!” He thought Rogers was a man’s man. Didn’t the people of the 40s keep their feelings to themselves and not ask other men for theirs? The way Steve’s hand came for him, bright red in the battle HUD projection, actually made Tony flinch and then grit his teeth before daylight poured into eyes regulated more for darkness.

He lifted his hands as if to ward Steve off, only to have the blond far too expertly dismantle him. How did that happen? He needed to increase the electrical bond between the armor pieces, or maybe add an additional zapping feature if someone tugged off his gauntlet the way Steve did now.

He looked a little like an unfinished action figure, faceplate off and sporadic joints torn open.

“We don’t have time for this. Killian might be gone but he’s been experimenting on people too.”

That was where Romanoff came in, chirping in only Steve’s ear because she wasn’t stupid. “We have casualties, Cap. Keep Stark away.”

Steve listened carefully and then focused back on Tony, keeping his hands on his friend's shoulders to keep him from running off. Not that he could do much running with his bottom half still encased in dead Iron man armour, and that might be a good thing at the moment.

"It's okay, Natasha and Clint are down there and they've already got everything secured, all we have to do is evacuate."

He assessed the armour, trying to work out if it would be more efficient to spend time taking the rest off, or if he should just lift Tony as he is.

"You did good, Nat and Clint can handle the rest, okay? Time to stand down."

“Thanks dad,” Tony said, despite lacking more than just a hint of irony. How often had he wished for someone to do more than blow smoke up his ass when he did do a good job? “But someone mentioned Pepper, a few electrocutions ago.”

It was the first time he’d had a lead on what might have happened to her after the mansion fell into the water in Malibu. He wasn’t taking chances, even if they might have been talking about some other mouthy blonde with nice legs and a small but do-able rack.

Tony put one bare hand on Steve’s chest to get him to move aside, but the armor wouldn’t let him move. That was a problem, but one that could be rectified by Tony simply using the neural implants to recall them.

Sorry, Steve. That pile of armor on the floor wasn’t staying a pile soon.

“Stay out of my way.”

"Nat, is Pepper down there?"

Steve didn't remove his hands from Tony's shoulders, blue eyes imploring him to take a moment and think about what the smart thing to do here was. If Pepper was down there and she was hurt, then Tony barging in would only make things worse, scare the other victims, and maybe stop them getting help as fast as they should.

"Yeah, we've got her. She's hurt, but I don't think it's going to be fatal."

Steve breathed a small sigh of thankfulness through his nose and focused once more on Tony.

"They've already found her, she's going to be fine, we'll meet up with them all at the hospital. Okay? Work with me here, Tony."

“Move.”

Tony wasn’t great at taking orders, not that Steve was giving him any despite what Tony himself seemed to currently believe. He was above to push Steve again when the voice of reason in the form of a Russian without a Russian accent hit his ear inside the cowl. “We’re already moving her. She’ll be on the quinjet. Meet us there.”

At least Tony did decide to ‘work with’ Steve after that.

It would be awhile before Tony showed his face at the compound again. He had to work to stabilize and then shut off the Extremis virus inside of Pepper and then fight with her. A lot. About so many things.

He came careening back to upstate New York in typical Stark fashion, loud car and loud music and more than a little drunkenness behind the wheel. He smelled like a bar when he rolled out towards the still standing buildings. Everyone more or less made way for him and Nat gave Steve a head’s up on Tony’s approach while he was out back clearing rubble.

Steve hated that after these things they all tended to separate until the next atrocity had them fighting at one another's sides again. He didn't work that way. He fought for people, for friends, and it ached to be alone again when all of this was said and done. Tony disappeared to care for Pepper. Natasha came to see him sometimes, but she was busy with her own business, and Steve was left to repairs.

He hid his feelings, though, because he felt kind of silly for having them and he didn't want to force anyone to spend time with him. So he threw his all into shifting rubble and constructing what had been blown up.

He was shirtless when Tony appeared, glistening with sweat from the work he had been doing, and squinting slightly into the sun.

"--are you drunk?"

“Who me?” That seemed like a dumb question so Tony decided it was all right to issue a dumb response. “Who do you think I am?” He already knew what Pepper thought he was, and it wasn’t good. At all. The problem was that she knew him better than himself, and evidently she’s been talking to Natasha on the phone because the redheads had conspired against him.

That was his fault for dating a strawberry blonde instead of a blond-blond. His bad.

Tony had driven onto the lawn, behind where the garage used to be, snow crunched under his tires. He was sitting on the hood of his sports car, engine still running. It was cold, he could see his breath, which might have quickened a bit when Steve showed up. Why Steve was shirtless in the dead of winter, he’d never know, but he could be extremely appreciative. His eyes moved slowly up and down over the sweat glistened skin behind transparent red glasses. Noticeable.

“I’m not not drunk,” he said, tottering off of the hood of the car to open the door and pull out a shoe box lined in waxed paper. “I made cookies. They’re all burnt.”

"You know that there are laws about drinking and driving."

Steve looked utterly unimpressed and folded his arms, not interested in the cookies at the moment. This is one of the things that infuriated him about Tony, the way he seemed to pick and choose which rules should apply to him, and yet hold other people to his standards without leeway.

"You could've really hurt someone, killed them even, and yourself. Give me your keys, I'm not letting you drive again while you're inebriated."

He unfolded his arms long enough to hold one hand out, waiting for the keys to be given to him.

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