While Tony Was Passed Out...
Natasha couldn't believe this was happening. This man, obviously well-trained and strong, was holding Tony as (sort-of) ransom.
She didn't want this to happen.
Then man was asking them not to make a move. She could sense Clint's and Steve's hesitation. They didn't want to risk Tony's life.
But then again, sometimes the best decisions involve taking risks.
Natasha pulled the trigger.
Her aim was as accurate as ever.
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Clint couldn't believe this was happening. His worst nightmare had come alive right in front of him. One of his teammates, his FAMILY, was being held by this thug. Just one wrong move and Tony could be dead in a matter of seconds.
Clint wasn't sure what they would have done without Natasha. Would they have stayed there, stuck in a stalemate? Maybe they would have figured something out. Him and Steve.
Luckily, they needed no such thing. There was a bang, and Clint watched grimly as the man fell.
Thank God for Natasha.
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Steve couldn't believe this was happening. They had risked their lives, fought their way to get to Tony, and here was this thug, this bully, threatening to kill Tony (Tony, not Stark.).
When he had heard a bang, he had immediately whipped his head around to see who had fired it.
It was Natasha.
Steve wanted to scream at her, scream that maybe now Tony was dead, his neck snapped by that thug in the last few moments of his life.
But there was a thud, and he saw the large man on the ground, a small gunshot wound on his temple. (Steve remembered something Fury had said during a de-briefing. Something about if you shot someone in a particular place, they wouldn't have time to think or move before they died?)
And Clint was rushing forward, scooping Tony up, and his voice was distorted, like they were underwater. "He's losing blood! Cap, we have to go!"
The world rushed back into perspective, and Steve went into Captain Mode. (There would not be time for sentiment, or anything.)
"Alright, let's head back! Natasha, calm Bruce down. Clint, I'll take the rear." Steve barked, the two super spies nodding firmly at him.
They rushed up the stairs, which, funnily enough, seemed to take lesser time than when they were going DOWN it. Maybe the stress and the heat of the situation were getting to him.
Natasha deviated from their path, sprinting straight for the Hulk, who was taking care of the last of the thugs. Some deserters, who, upon seeing an opening to take down Steve and Clint, opened fire yet again from their hiding spots.
Steve blocked their gunshots with his shield. The barrage of gunshots soon petered out, as the thugs ran out of bullets, every one of their supply wasted on the vibranium shield.
Stealing a quick glance behind him, Steve was relieved to see Natasha and Bruce following them, Natasha taking care of the thugs with a few well-placed shots from her gun. Bruce seemed exhausted, but, upon meeting the Captain's eye, gave a wan smile and mouthed, "We got Tony!"
Seeing that his team was fine, Steve increased his speed, dashing onto the QuinJet with lightning speed.
Clint sat himself on the pilot's seat, gently laying Tony on a bench first. He seemed to be in discomfort, whimpering ever so often.
Clint looked at Steve with relief, obviously celebrating at their victory. "We did it, Cap."
Steve grinned back, too tired to even say anything, as Natasha and Bruce sprinted back onto the Jet.
Clint hurriedly maneuvered the QuinJet off the ground, and soon, they were flying smoothly through the clouds.
"Bruce, what's up with Tony?" Clint asked worriedly, as Bruce poked Tony in various places, mumbled to himself, and did all sorts of doctor-ey things.
Upon hearing Clint, Bruce straightened, and rattled off, "Tony has a few deep and large gashes all over his body, a mild concussion, some bruised ribs and was DEFINITELY not fed enough during the few days they had him. We have to get him to the Med Bay as soon as we can." \
The QuinJet was silent after that. But it wasn't awkward, it was more...comfortable.
Bruce and Natasha sat on the bench, Tony between them. Occasionally, Natasha would stroke Tony's fur.
Steve himself was sitting on the seat next to Clint. He was surrounded by his thoughts, relieving every moment where he had treated Tony unfairly.
Why would he do such a thing?
Maybe it was because he kept seeing Howard's face whenever he looked at Tony. But Howard would never say half the things Tony said.
Howard was respectable, noble, serious and always obeyed his superiors.
Tony...was none of those things.
The things they had said to each other under the influence of the Tesseract...they had both apologized about it. But that didn't change the fact that every word Steve had spoken had been in his thoughts that day.
Tony was immature. Tony couldn't follow orders. Tony was nothing like Howard.
But he had been proven wrong time and time again. And yet he had clung to his hate of Tony. Why?
"Well," Steve decided as the QuinJet landed. "Whatever the reason is, when Tony wakes up, I'll apologize."