Chapter 9
The engine is too shredded for Tony to be able to simply remove the debris. He needs to do more, and, with the suit on, he gets JARVIS to connect to the comms he’d given Steve.
“This thing won’t re-engage without a jump. I’m going to have to get in there and push.”
“If that thing gets up to speed,” he can hear the disapproval in Steve’s voice, “you’ll get shredded.”
“There’s a reason I built this suit, Steve,” Tony sighs. If his boyfriend could lay off with the protectiveness for a moment, that would be wonderful. Contrary to popular belief, Tony knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t have a death wish. “That stator control unit can reverse the polarity long enough – ”
“Save the science lessons for the camera,” Steve shouts.
Rolling his eyes, Tony jumps in between the blades of the rotor. “See that red lever? Stand by it. Wait for my word.”
Instead of a reply, the sound of gunshots comes from the other end of the comms, distracting Tony briefly from his task. He designed Steve’s new uniform to protect him from more than petty bullets, but it remains a concern to Tony’s less rational mind.
“Are you done?” Steve’s voice crackles back into Tony’s ear, the sound of bullets pausing for a second.
He gets back to work. “Half a moment.”
“Who’s the old man, now?” comes the teasing reply. It’s followed by a pained grunt and a scream that’s definitely not Steve’s. Tony’s checked: Steve cannot scream at such a high pitch, even when frightened.
To save time, Tony keeps silent, clearing the rotors as best as he can and pushing against them to get them spinning again. Another hail of bullets ring through the comms. Tony calculates a 99.73% chance that Steve will handle them just fine.
The blades of the engine spin faster and faster, the suit racing to keep up with it, the numbers on the HUD climbing to where Tony needs them to be.
“Cap, hit the lever.”
“I need a minute here!”
“Lever,” Tony gasps as he slams back against one of the blades, “now!”
Is Steve alright? he has a second to think before he gets swallowed under by the spinning blades, tumbling, and tumbling until –
The blades slow down enough to let Tony fall through, down into the open air and free to fly away. His HUD lights up, JARVIS knowing exactly what Tony’s trying to find, coming closer and closer to the sound of bullets and –
Barrelling at full speed into the agent daring to shoot at Steve, Tony crash lands on the broken edges of the deck. The lights of his HUD flicker out, wires too heavily damaged by having nearly been shredded.
His back is sore, his head is ringing.
On the ledge above him, still hanging on to the red lever, is Steve.
He’s smiling bright, relieved.
Tony hefts himself up, armor and all, and walks away.
They learn that Loki’s escaped.
Thor is gone and the Hulk is missing, likely on a rampage through some unfortunate city. Coulson is in critical condition in the medbay. The only silver lining is that Natasha managed to do some cognitive recalibration on Clint, but they are both still stuck in the medbay, tending to their scratches.
“There was an idea,” Fury explains, tired and heavy, “to bring together a group of remarkable people.”
Steve picks up one of the blood-stained trading cards strewn across the table, turning it around to see his own face staring back at him, with that old shield and the winged helmet.
Not a perfect soldier, but a good man, he hears the echo of Erskine’s voice. The card is smooth under his fingers, obviously taken care of and kept safe, with all the faith Coulson had in Steve.
Steve had failed them: the team, the world, everyone.
And he had failed one man above all else.
He gets up to find Tony.
“Come to tell your useless boyfriend to go home?” he mutters when Steve finally finds him.
“No, it was wrong of me, and cruel of me to say. I don’t know why I said it.”
“Probably the sceptre,” Tony rubs a hand over his face, still looking over the gaping hole where Loki’s cage was. From him, it’s an invitation, and Steve holds on to it gratefully.
“I’m scared,” Steve admits, his voice quiet because he knows it will crack if he speaks any louder, “I pushed you away because I want you to leave, to go far, far away from here, and I’m sorry for that.” He takes a step closer to Tony, and then another, trying to find the courage to say his next words.
Fighting HYDRA is something, but fighting aliens and gods from other dimensions with Tony in the balance? Steve dreads it. Still, it isn’t an excuse, only an explanation, and he doesn’t want to lose this, doesn’t want the practiced blankness of Tony’s face, so Steve explains the last thing he knows – the truest thing he knows. “I fell in love with a brave, wonderful, brilliant man, and was so very lucky to have him love me back. It was foolish to throw all that away because I was scared.”
Their shoulders brush as Steve finally reaches the railing and stands next to Tony. Tony doesn’t turn to Steve, but he also doesn’t push him away. There’s a tension in Tony’s arms which sends an ache through Steve, knowing that he is partly at fault for it.
“We are not soldiers,” Tony breathes out, vehement and with a lingering anger.
Steve shakes his head. “I might be one, but I fell in love with a dreamer. Who also happens to be the bravest, strongest man I know.”
“A failure,” Tony says under his breath, “I couldn’t trace the Tesseract fast enough, and now Loki – ”
“Hush,” Steve chides, bringing an arm around Tony’s waist and turning him away from the abyss to face Steve, “you did everything you could, and I did more than enough to slow you down. I’m the one who should be sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Tony argues back, and then, more gently, “this is bigger than you, than me. I’m the only one around who can fly the suit – I just – ” he breaks off, swallowing before he continues, “I know what I have to do, Steve. And I know in my heart that it’s right.”
There isn’t much that Steve can say which wouldn’t be hypocritical. He thinks he understands, now, the frustration Bucky had felt all those years ago when Steve, all ninety-something pounds, had been adamant to fight.
Steve can only ask one question, which he knows might not even get a truthful answer. “Are you ready?”
Tony doesn’t answer straight away, the lines on his face tight and tense. “Yes,” he eventually tells Steve, and it’s as true as he can make it sound. No one is ever ready for a war, much less an alien invasion.
“Okay,” Steve relents. He doesn’t want Tony to go risking his life, but really, what can he do to stop Tony? It’s painfully true that they need him – his wits, his skills, and his firepower – and the faster Steve accepts that, the faster he can move on to thinking of a strategy to keep them all safe.
“Okay?” Tony asks, uncertain, not quite believing it.
“For what it’s worth,” Steve tries to apologise one more time, “I’m sorry for making you think – ”
“Again, it’s the sceptre’s fault,” Tony brushes it off once more, “and don’t forget Loki. Loki’s an asshole who wants a monument with his name plastered to the sky, a bright light for all humanity bullshit, he’s just an intergalactic dick who – fucking hell – Stark Tower – ”
Their eyes meet.
Steve taps into the comm in his ear, “Fury, Loki’s going to Stark Tower, we need transport now.”
“Take a Quinjet from the hangar, Captain. Agent Romanoff can pilot.”
Steve doesn’t bother to answer. Tony nods, eyes sure and full of fire. “I can get to the Tower faster than a Quinjet with my suit.” It goes unsaid that at the speeds Tony is planning to fly, there’s no safe way to bring Steve with him.
He’s walking away again and Steve frantically grabs his wrist. Tony stops. His face unreadable. There’s too much that needs to be said, too much that Steve can’t leave unspoken, but they’re running out of time.
In the end, Steve settles on the most important thing, “I trust you, Tony. Just – be careful, please. Wait for us, and don’t you dare die.”
“I’ll wait for you to catch up, old man,” Tony smiles. Away from the sceptre, away from his fears and doubts, the nickname no longer stings, soft and gentle as it sounds from Tony’s lips. Steve returns the smile.
Colonel Phillips had told them all, once, to never go into the battlefield with things unsaid. Regrets can break even the best man. Steve knows better than anyone about waiting too long, about wishing, and wishing and messing everything up.
He wants to do this right. So, before he lets go of Tony, he pulls him in, cupping a hand gently on Tony’s cheek, thumb brushing along the neatly trimmed stubble there. Tony reaches up to hold his own hand against Steve’s, the tightness of his grip betraying his worry and desperation.
Steve kisses him, soft and full of promise.
“Let’s go save the world, darling.”
“It’s a date.”
And Steve knows he’s forgiven.