Zombie Apocalypse
The next day passed without too much of a hitch, Sam thought. They swapped out drivers routinely, Scott and Sam with a silent agreement to make sure Tony didn't get to drive as they voted that Wanda got a chance to drive on the highway. The woman was apprehensive about it, but agreed. She had a license, yes, though lacked much experience in the driving field. Usually someone else drove or they took the helicarrier. Not today. Tony didn't put up much of a fight about it, just shrugging and reminding her to listen to the GPS, which Wanda scoffed at, remarking how it was a complete change in attitude. He'd ignored her.
It was nearing eight at night once again with Wanda at the wheel and Scott beside her, lounging casually as they let the Stark-reprogrammed GPS take them where they needed to go. If Sam was honest with himself, he kind of missed listening to Tony argue with the automated voice, even if it had caused quite a bit of a headache at first. Currently, their resident genius was in the other window seat beside him, sunglasses still firmly pressed onto his face as he fiddled with his phone. Sam spared the screen a passing glance, drinking in lines of code he couldn't hope to understand before turning his gaze back to the window, watching the last dregs of sunlight disappear beyond the trees.
Tony was right. They would make it to Los Angeles a little faster than expected. As long as no one died from a fight, they would be alright-
"Why are you wearing those glasses?" Wanda asked, breaking the near-silence that had enveloped them all for the last hour. The only sound had been the radio comedy show until this point. Wanda's question was innocent, but there was no hiding the slight agitation that underlaid any real curiosity. Sam repressed a sigh. There goes their peace.
The brunette's hands tightened around his phone, his button pushing becoming more feverent. He didn't look up and his voice maintained the flippant air that came with the Tony Stark mask Sam had come to know more and more. "Because I want to."
"It's night." She stated the obvious. Scott straightened in his seat, dropping his feet from where they'd been resting on the dashboard. The rising tension was palpable.
"So?" He raised en eyebrow, finally tilting his head up. "I want to wear them. Who cares what time of day it is." His voice was gaining an edge of annoyance. Sam couldn't blame him. It was a trivial thing. Part of him thought Wanda didn't entirely mean the animosity, that her question came out wrong. The other part of him was mourning the lost silence and cursing the bubbling argument between the two most deeply fractioned people in the vehicle.
He watched through the rearview mirror as her mouth pressed itself into a thin, angry line, her eyes narrowing in controlled annoyance. There were no red sparks at her fingers - yet - and he took that as a good sign. "You can hardly see."
"I can see just fine, Maximoff." The tension was building in both the atmosphere and their bodies. Sam sat straighter, getting ready to defuse the argument the closer it got to volatile. They didn't need this tonight. Or any night. This trip was already tough enough. "Besides, I don't need to see. You're the one at the wheel. Pay attention to the road and not me."
Unexpectedly, her voice softened, some of the anger fading. "You're right." She paused. The air stopped with her. Sam held his breath. "That all came out wrong. I didn't mean it to get that... intense."
Tony sat his phone down on his knee, hitting the power button so the screen faded to black. "Me either," he sighed, running a hand through his already tussled hair. The curls stuck up in all directions, the careful style of the morning they left long gone. It reminded Sam of what he saw in the lab and also that they really needed to find a hotel or something to get a shower. They'd changed clothes at rest stops, but Kleenex wipes could only do so much in the long run. "Want to try again?" He asked, sounding almost hesitant. Maybe Sam wasn't supposed to hear that in his voice. Maybe three days ago, he wouldn't have noticed that hesitation in his words. The extension of an olive branch.
"Yeah," she nodded, eyes focused on the empty highway. They were the only ones on the road besides a few scattered cars here and there. A momentary pause. "Why do you wear the sunglasses?" This time, there wasn't agitation, annoyance, or anger - the three A's that could sometimes be associated with Wanda and Tony's work relationship - only plain curiosity. "You haven't taken them off much through the whole trip. Not to mention you wear them a lot when you're on television."
Tony shifted in his seat. It was a subtle movement, almost like he was only trying to get comfortable, but Sam could see the line of anxiety in his shoulders. "I have three reasons for wearing them," he began, resting his arm against the window. "One, I look really cool." He grinned, getting a small chuckle out of Sam and Scott. The side of Wanda's lip twitched up in an almost smile, a far cry from her usual reaction to his word antics. Tony's smile faded a little as he continued. "Two, you never let those vultures of press see you without them. Especially when you're me. One wrong eyeroll and the tabloids are all over it. Seriously, I can't roll my eyes at a lame joke without getting called out. It's ridiculous. Or just looking away from a speech for a second. My mind works in strange, fast, and mysterious ways-" he wiggled his fingers in the air as if to emphasize his point. "- I can't watch one person go on about the same topic in a monotone voice forever. It's even worse when they don't have a presentation I can look at. The press acts like the world will end if I watch a bird for a second." He laughed. It was almost believable.
Scott and Wanda laughed with him, going along with the exaggerated wording, but Sam took a mental step back. He knew a little about the vultures the press could be - in your face with cameras, asking a million questions at a dizzying pace as they placed the limelight on you. He could never answer them all and they always pressed for more with every answer he gave. It was annoying and maybe a little frightening how fast they could gang up on a person. But the attention had always been split around him. He always stood with the rest of the Avengers, taking some of the questions - he'd never been the center of attention. That was a role Tony always played by sauntering around, joking, laughing, deflecting, smiling a little too wide with a few too many teeth. He kept most of the attention on himself. Up until this trip, he thought Tony liked the attention.
Now he could see that he really didn't. He played it off as a joke, his second reason, but he could see the darkness dwelling in those brown eyes of his. Tony has walked the limelight since he was born. He'd played a crowd for decades. That smile, those fake laughs, everything - it built up his masks. They may not have been the sole reason he had such protection, but it definitely played a part. People who didn't know Tony didn't catch onto it. Heck, he didn't catch on until a few days ago and he was still learning, still getting a mask instead of the true and rare ππππ¦ smile majority of the time. How long would it be before that mask broke down around them? How long would it be before he entirely trusted them? Sam knew very well that trust took time, but Tony was deteriorating before their very eyes.
He could see it.
Tony didn't like the attention. He coped and dealt with it. He pulled it off of them because he knew they didn't like it. It was another way he threw himself in front of the bullet in those self sacrificing ways of his. Only this bullet couldn't pierce skin. It pierced the mind. He wore the sunglasses because the eyes were the windows to the soul. He couldn't have them see βππ. It was sad. So sad that he wanted to wrap Tony in a hug then and there, boundaries be danged.
"Cat caught your tongue, Sam?" Tony asked, pulling him out of his reverie. He glanced over, giving him a smile somewhere between genuine and stuck in his own mind.
"Nope. Just thinking." He waved a hand, almost imitating how Tony did it. "Go on with your third reason. Last is best, right?" It was a more forced attempt at humor, but Tony smiled anyway. Was the smile real or fake? Somewhere in between? It didn't feel quite fabricated, but it wasn't true either.
Baby steps, he thought to himself. Baby steps.
"Yep, you're right. The third reason is..." he trailed off, smile dropping as his eyebrows came together in concentration. He closed his mouth, opened it, and closed it again. It looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't. The smile came back a half second later. It was definitely fake this time. "You know what, I got ahead of myself. There are only two reasons."
"Aw, c'mon, you had me in suspense for nothing," Scott whined from the front passenger seat, his head falling back against the headrest. "Three is better than two, man. You gotta have another reason."
"Sorry, tic tac. I'm fresh out of reasons. Ask me tomorrow." He looked a little more at ease again, relaxing back into the stiff cushions of the car.
"I'll hold you to that."
Silence covered them again, much more at ease than the last one. Sam let his eyes fall shut, his temple lightly pressed against the glass window. He was exhausted mentally and physically - stopping the fights, directing his current team, and staying awake for longer periods of time were taking their toll on him. He doubted the rest of then were much better, especially Tony. The man likely hadn't slept much in at least three days, no matter what he said, and he was looking worse by the day. He remembered what Natasha told him. Tony would keep going until he crashed. She trusted Sam to look out for him, but how could he help him if he was refusing to accept it-
"Look out!"
Tony's cry made his eyes snap open just in time to watch the bright lights of some idiot's car come extremely close to them from the side. It was a black Cadillac, rushing toward his side diagonally, and he felt fear spike through his heart. He took a quick glance up at the tinted passenger side window, scooting as far as the seatbelt would allow to get away from the impending attack. The vague figure of a woman sat in the driver's seat. Tony lurched forward, reaching between the front seats to grab the steering wheel, yanking them to the right. As their car sped up, likely due to Wanda's panic, he pulled them to the left, getting them into the far lane and ahead of the woman. "Gas it, Wanda! Get away from this idiot!"
He dimly registered Tony using her first name before the woman hit the accelerator, sending the car flying forward and Sam back into his seat. The genius's hand stayed on the wheel and Sam could see her own hands shaking where she sat, flecks of red sparking from her fingers in an obvious sign of emotional distress. After a minute of breaking the speed limit, Tony quietly told her to slow down. She obliged readily and he sat back, letting out a puff of breath. "That was close."
"That was an absolute idiot," Scott exclaimed, sounding the closest to losing his temper as Sam had ever seen him. "We were basically the only people on the road. What was she doing - texting? She could've killed us!" Apparenly he saw the form, too. Wanda's shoulders trembled.
"Could someone else drive, please?" She asked. Sam felt a swell of sympathy in his heart. That was not the best situation for a newer driver. His heart was still trying to calm down as it was.
"That's fine," Tony said in a tone that was flippant but assuring. "I can-"
"I'll drive." Scott interjected as Wanda started to pull over. "You haven't given me your third sunglasses reason yet and I took a nap not long ago." The underline accusing tone was not lost to Sam. Judging by Tony's disgruntled expression, he didn't miss it either. Surprisingly, he didn't protest or try to grab the driver's seat before Scott did, letting him and Wanda switch places. They took off onto the road again.
_____________________________________________________
An hour later and Wanda had fallen asleep. Sam was ready to join her in dreamland, his chin rested on his palm as he gazed out the window at the twinkling lights of the sky. His mind was still stuck on what happened. He'd heard and seen so many stories like this - negligent drivers crashing into innocent people - but he hadn't expected it. Did anyone ever think that would happen? No. Maybe he should've. When you're in a high stress situation like an Avengers mission, sometimes you forget about the regular dangers of human life. Clint taught him that.
His eyes lazily moved over to the man beside him. Unlike the other nights, Tony seemed to be struggling to keep himself awake, his head rested against the window glass just as Sam's was and his phone hanging limply in his hand. His eyes were half lidded and every blink was a long one, as if he found it hard to open his eyes. It was entirely understandable. Tony had been awake so long, but why did he not go to sleep? He'd been so much more relaxed today and when he talked to Scott about it, his teammate only smiled and quietly said, "We talked." He didn't elaborate. Sam didn't ask. It wasn't his business. If it helped Tony, who was he to judge?
Not wanting to draw attention to them or wake Wanda up, he fished his phone from his pocket and texted Tony. It was a contact that hadn't seen a message or phone call, making him a little regretful that it took several months and a mission to get him to text the genius. 'Hey, you can sleep, you know.'
Tony's phone lit up and he turned it toward him, blinking owlishly. He glanced at Sam before nimble fingers texted back. 'I'll sleep when I'm dead.'
'Then I'll be dead in a few minutes.'
The brunette's lip quirked up. 'You look like you are.'
Sam had to stifle a laugh with his hand, texting with one thumb. 'Well, if I look bad, then you look worse mister four-days-without-sleep.'
'Two things. One, that's too long of a name. Two, I always look awesome. Remember that.'
'I guess I'll take your word for it.' He remarked, not holding back a smile. He quickly continued so Tony couldn't retaliate, bringing them back to the subject at hand. 'Seriously though, you can sleep for a little while. Your eyes look like they have twin bruises.'
He watched out of the corner of his eye as Tony's mouth twisted, the blue light of the screen reflecting in dark, tired eyes. It was clear he wanted to sleep, anyone could see that, but something was holding him back. Something Sam didn't know how to fix without knowing what the problem was. Could he even fix it? Was the problem in his head? Tony started typing again and the text came through a minute later. 'I've gone longer, Sam, and what if something happens while I'm asleep? The near car accident didn't help.'
'Then we'll wake you up and deal with it. I doubt you'll sleep through the world ending.' He texted. In hope to sway the favor, he added, 'You won't be able to help if you're beyond exhausted. You need to take care of yourself so you can help us.'
There was a long minute of nothing but texts being typed and erased. One finally came through. 'There's therapist Wilson.' A second one rolled in. 'Fine, I'll sleep because you insist.'
With a barely contained grin, he kept his composure. 'Good. I'll wake you up if the zombie apocalypse happens, don't worry.'
'You better. I don't want to miss out on studying zombies, got it?'
'Yep. Go to sleep.'
'Wow, bossy. No wonder you're Steve's favorite recruit.'
He didn't dignify the text with a response, only giving an exaggerated eyeroll in return. Tony smiled slightly, almost apprehensively, then settled down into the seat, letting his head lean more heavily against the window as he pulled his sunglasses off, tucking them in his shirt pocket. His phone lay on his leg, still gripped by his hand, but slowly, his fingers loosened. His eyes fell closed and didn't open again. His chest moved steadily, the breaths getting deeper as time marched on. Eventually, that anxious line in his shoulders left and he sagged in his seat, completely asleep. Sam had to reach out and catch his phone before it could hit the floorboards, a satisfied smile on his face as he put it between them.
After a few minutes where Sam almost fell asleep himself, Scott whispered, "Is he asleep?"
The Falcon dragged his eyes open, blinking heavily. "Yeah, how'd you know?"
"Silence, dim screen light, a laugh from you. Weird facial expressions, too, then he closes his eyes for the first time in days." He explained. "Man, you've got some magic to get him to go to sleep. Teach me your ways, falcon wizard man."
Sam snorted. "I think it was more exhaustion taking over than anything I said. He's needed sleep for a while." He remembered how Tony said he'd 'lasted longer.' How much longer would that have been? How long until his body would've given into the sleep it craved? How long before he fell? Natasha asked Sam to look out for him, but how do you help someone so intent on running through fire and thinking it was fine?
"You probably had a hand in it." He huffed. "You're just too humble to say it."
"You wouldn't say it either."
He shrugged. "TouchΓ©."
Sam sighed, settling back against his seat. "Wake me up when it's my turn to drive. Or if zombies show up. I promised Tony we wouldn't let him miss the zombie apocalypse."
"Weirdly specific, but okay."
He drifted off to the sound of the radio station changing and Scott's less than sub-par, quiet singing voice. His dreams were filled with zombies and clocks that ticked loudly, reminding him of their limited time. Would they make it?