Title: Desert Knights
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Steve is sent to Puente Antiguo on a leadership training exercise, Tony isn't feeling too well, and aliens might be invading.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Thanks to Knottahooker on Tumblr for beta-reading!
This is a sequel to "Toy Soldiers", in which Steve Rogers is a modern-day SHIELD agents without the Serum, and a lot of other things have changed as well. Toy Soldiers will be helpful reading before you hit this up!
Also available at AO3.
***
Steve was packing to return to New York, listening to Tony kick ass on a conference call with the rest of the SI board, when JARVIS flashed him a notice on one of the bedroom smartpanes that Coulson was on his way. Steve acknowledged it with a wave, got Tony's attention and pointed to the living room, and shut the door quietly behind him so Tony could finish his call.
"Coulson," he said with a grin, heading to the kitchen bar as his boss walked in. "Can I pour you a coffee? Possibly vodka shots?"
"Tempting, after this week," Coulson agreed. "Coffee's fine. How's Stark?"
"Honestly? I think he's enjoying being back in the saddle," Steve said, pouring two cups of coffee and setting out the sugar. "He's turned on his stock tracker again. SI's stock is rising now that he's bullying the board around. He's re-hired everyone Stane laid off after the shutdown, and he's got people spinning the Stane treason story his way, so." He shrugged. "I know it's not what SHIELD wanted, but -- "
"Stark's not a SHIELD agent," Coulson said. Steve nodded. "Yet."
Steve choked on his coffee, setting it down carefully. "Excuse me?"
"We have a lot to discuss," Coulson said.
"Apparently so. If you think SHIELD can or should recruit Tony Stark..." Steve paused. "No, we don't want him -- we want his tech, right? The Iron Man?"
"Not exactly," Coulson said. "This is complicated. Not made easier by the fact that his close friend is an Air Force colonel and he's dating one of SHIELD's top agents."
"Don't butter me up," Steve said drily.
"The military is going to want Stark's tech, especially since every other avenue to his genius is closed to them," Coulson said. "The last Stark defense contract runs out in two years, and most were expecting renewal this fall. If they can't have his bombs, they want his armor. Rhodes has been asked to do a feasibility study, as the first step towards acquiring the armor. By eminent domain, if necessary."
"Tony won't stand for it. He'll destroy the plans and the armor first," Steve said. "Or he'll relocate outside of the government's reach."
"If he threatened to go to China with the armor, the government would back off, but not all the way, and not forever," Coulson said. "Fury's interested in the armor too, but not so much in the man inside it. He doesn't think Stark's reliable, doesn't think he'd work well in a team situation."
"I see he and Tony have met," Steve remarked. Coulson flashed him a brief smile. "You cannot do a psych workup on him right now, Coulson, he's -- there's a revolution going on inside Tony, and even I don't get to see all of it. You can't base Tony's future on his past. He nuked his past from space two months ago. The rest of us are just holding on, watching him go."
"Fury is working on an offer to take Stark into the SHIELD hierarchy as a consultant," Coulson said. "It's not finalized yet, and there's a lot of wrestling and budget hearings before it will be. But we have an eventual goal of attaching the Iron Man to SHIELD for Stark's own good."
"Don't pretend SHIELD won't benefit too."
"Nobody's pretending that, Nomad. I'm telling you this so that neither of you are blindsided. SHIELD will be watching him and making plans, whether he eventually chooses to accept the offer or not. In the meantime, I have this for you," he said, and handed Steve a flash drive. "It's a full report on the proposal SHIELD is building: the Avengers Initiative."
"Catchy name," Steve said.
"I'd like your thoughts when you've read it. When are you back in New York?"
"Tomorrow night. I'll check in with HQ on Monday."
"You ready to start taking missions again?"
"Yeah. I'd like to talk about restructuring some of my criteria, but that can wait."
Coulson gave him a tolerant look. "Fewer overseas missions?"
"Something like that."
"Finally prove yourself to yourself, or just willing to stop trying so hard?" Coulson asked. Steve ducked his head. "Don't mistake me. I'm pleased. Your self-destructive streak is endearing at twenty-four. Approaching thirty, it's more worrying. At any rate, after Afghanistan and the battle with Stane, you've been a little higher profile."
"Is that why," Steve said drily.
"I'm not talking about the public eye. Heads have raised at SHIELD," Coulson said. "You're being considered for leadership now in a way you weren't previously. Don't be surprised if you're given subcommand in the future."
"My own team?" Steve asked, surprised. "Under you. Like Peggy?"
"On the same track as her, yes."
"What about Natasha and Clint? They both have more -- "
"Experience, yes, but this isn't a reward for seniority. It's a response to aptitude," he said. "Clint has no interest in or skill for leading a team. Natasha was offered a leadership track and declined."
"Is that an option for me?"
"Do you want to decline?" Coulson replied.
"Just -- curious about the timing of this." Steve gave him a troubled look. "Curious about whether SHIELD wanting Tony is part of this offer."
"No. This came up when you took the team to Afghanistan, before Stark was recovered. And you don't have to decide immediately," Coulson said. "This isn't a win or die situation -- you can accept it on a trial basis, or decline and request a revisit later. There's no penalty if you decide leadership isn't for you."
"You think it is?"
"I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't."
"I'll think about it," Steve said.
"I hope you will," Coulson told him. "And I have some work to do before I catch my cold, cramped commercial flight back to New York."
"Angling for a seat in the Stark jet?" Steve asked with a grin.
"No, just some sympathy. I'm here for another few days minimum. You'll beat me home."
"I haven't been in New York for months. I shudder to think the state my fridge is in," Steve said.
"You want my advice, make him buy you a new one," Coulson said, nodding at the bedroom, where Tony was emerging. "Mr. Stark."
"Agent," Tony said warily. He'd been wary of Coulson since the press conference and the index cards, and Steve sensed it wasn't all an act.
"I'll leave you two to your packing. Monday, Nomad."
"Yes, sir," Steve said, standing as Coulson left. When he was gone, Tony wrapped his arms around Steve from behind and stood there quietly. Steve knocked his head back gently, bumping the nape of his neck against the top of the arc reactor.
"SHIELD wants to make you an offer on the armor," he said.
"I imagine they do," Tony replied.
"And they want me to start taking a leadership role."
"I can't think why," Tony drawled. Steve smiled. "What's our play?"
"Nothing for now. I don't think Coulson expects me to react, just to prepare." Steve rubbed his cheek against Tony's shoulder. "Lemme go, I have to finish packing and find where you put all my favorite shirts."
"Those belonged to your behemoth best friend, and I burned them," Tony said. "I'm debating between dragging you to my tailor in New York and just keeping you a naked prisoner in the penthouse."
"Creepy yet endearing," Steve informed him, breaking away to head back to the bedroom. "Aren't you taking anything?"
"The bots are already shipped out, JARVIS is everywhere at once, and I have clothes in New York," Tony said, flopping on the bed next to the suitcase Steve had scrounged from a storage closet in the basement. "Take a break, let me work off my frustrations with the board."
Steve raised an eyebrow. "And how are you planning on doing that?"
Tony rolled over onto his belly and inched forward, nuzzling Steve's stomach just above his belt. Steve laughed and cupped the back of his head.
"I suppose I can pack a little later," he said.
***
There was an entire welcoming party waiting for them at the airport -- Sam, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Rhodey and Peggy, plus Happy with the limo.
"Oh God, your honor guard," Tony said when he saw them crowded at the baggage claim. Steve elbowed him gently and set his bags down to accept hugs and shoulder-punches. He glanced over and saw Tony startled to be accepting a hug and a kiss on the cheek from Peggy, then saw him fend off a kiss on the cheek from Sam as well.
The team apparently had an agenda for the evening; Happy and Clint loaded their bags into the trunk as everyone else piled with them into the limo, shoving each other to make room.
"We have several gifts for you," Peggy said to Steve, handing him a folder full of photographs. He opened it and cracked up laughing; the first photo was of his fridge, thoroughly cleaned and stocked with a bottle of milk and tupperware containers of food. The second he handed to Tony; it was Bucky leaning on Dummy, so that it looked like Dummy was attached to his wounded shoulder, a giant prosthetic arm. The third was Peggy with the other two bots, all of them adorned in cheap plastic flower garlands, Rhodey grinning in the background.
"JARVIS let you in, didn't he?" Tony asked, still looking a little bewildered by all the attention. Which was strange, Steve thought; it wasn't like Tony wasn't used to being center stage and loving it.
"Rhodey vouched for us," Natasha said.
"Probably a mistake," Clint added.
"We know all your secrets," Natasha finished.
"Do they do that a lot?" Tony asked Steve.
"They practice," Steve replied. "Be nice, guys, Tony's had a long month."
"It's cool," Rhodey said, patting Tony on the shoulder. "We have pizza and beer on the way."
"You're very cozy with all the spies," Tony said.
"They're good people," Rhodey replied easily. "Anyway, you're dating one of them."
At the Tower the food was already laid out and there was a press to get the best slice, sort out beers for everyone, and welcome Pepper, arriving late from supervising the opening and airing-out of Tony's east-coast office. It took two or three rounds before the individual conversations died down, but finally Tony stood up, tapping two empty bottles together for attention. Steve sat back, tipsy and indulgent, and watched Tony fondly.
"I never had the chance to properly thank you all for your work in Afghanistan," he said, and there were low murmurs of acknowledgement from the others. "I know this is the job you do, but I appreciate that normally you do it on behalf of national security, not one neurotic billionaire, even if he is the best thing to ever happen to one of your own."
"Watch it," Bucky called, but he was grinning, and Steve laughed.
"So I toast you," Tony said, holding up a half-full bottle of beer. "And I thank you. You rose to an occasion you didn't have to, and I won't forget that. If you're smart," he added, with a sidelong grin, "you won't forget Stark Industries owes you one, either."
"Does that mean I'm getting a suit?" Rhodey asked.
"Don't push your luck, Cinnabon," Tony replied.
"Just following your lead," Rhodey said, as Tony sat down again, throwing his arm across Steve's shoulders. "As former liaison to Stark Industries, I do have to ask..."
Tony groaned, hand going to his face.
"...what's next for SI?" Rhodey finished with a knowing look. Peggy seemed interested too, Steve noticed, and Natasha was carefully disinterested.
"Green energy," Tony said, letting his hand fall. "Communications technology. Solutions for social good."
"Doesn't Maria Stark Foundation cover that?" Peggy asked.
"Not in the way I'm envisioning," Tony said, glancing at Pepper.
"Stark Industries is spinning off a new research division, Stark Solutions," Pepper said. "The goal is to explore technological solutions to social problems."
"I expect it to run at a loss for at least ten years," Tony added. "Turns out, fixing the world is unprofitable. Meanwhile, I'm going to be spending a lot of time in our chemical engineering division."
"Not tech?" Rhodey asked.
"Not yet. Batteries are the It Trend, four years down the line," Tony said. "JARVIS ran the numbers."
"Once the novelty of smartphones wears off, long-life batteries will be the next demand," JARVIS put in. "Sixty-eight percent probability."
"That's not profitable either," Sam said.
"It's a short-term profit with a long-term tail," Tony said. "Buy a Stark Battery, buy a phone to wrap around it now. Buy your next phone Stark brand because it wraps around the same battery."
"It's diabolical," Natasha remarked to Clint.
"Business," Tony said with a shrug. One of his hands was gently kneading Steve's bicep; Steve, sleepy and at peace, let the conversation roll on without him. "But it's going to take a lot of intensive study on the molecular chemistry end. Trying to find the right power sources, the right chemical reactions, the right elemental catalysts..."
He rubbed his chest where the reactor sat, the blue light shining through his shirt for a moment. "Energy is the future. Chemistry is how we're going to get there. It's how we're going to have one at all."
There were a few seconds of silence, and then Bucky burst out laughing.
"That got dark fast," he said, tipping his beer at Tony.
"Peril of being a futurist," Tony said. "The numbers get grim sometimes. But," he added, "we have hot food and cold beer, and nobody's trying to kill me anymore, so we're doing okay."
"We should leave you to get settled in," Peggy said, finishing her beer and standing. "Steve, brunch on Sunday?"
"Yeah, 'course," Steve agreed, as the others gathered their things and piled their plates and bottles on the coffee table. "Buck, you and me should -- "
"I got movie tickets tomorrow afternoon, the new action flick," Bucky said. "Two o'clock, don't stand me up."
"Promise," Steve agreed. Rhodey followed the others out, offering a few of them a lift home; he hadn't been drinking, but Steve thought Clint hadn't either, so probably nobody was gonna have to take a cab. Pepper gathered up the shoes she'd slipped out of earlier.
"Anything else, Mr. Stark?" she asked warmly.
"That will be all, Ms. Potts," Tony replied, and then caught her hand as she passed, kissing the knuckles. "Take the day tomorrow."
She tousled his hair. "Don't have to twist my arm. Steve, make sure he gets some rest."
Steve nodded. "Come to brunch if you're free -- I'll send you the address."
"Am I invited to brunch?" Tony asked, nosing against Steve's temple as Pepper left.
"No, you're a scary pre-dystopian capitalist and you'll spoil everyone's appetite," Steve said, and then because Tony sometimes didn't have a good filter on when people were joking about his personality, "Yes, of course you're invited. You've been invited, you just never came."
"Bucky hates me."
"Bucky still thinks I'm an asthmatic nine year old with a heart murmur who can't fight back when he gets picked on," Steve said. "He doesn't hate you. He just has a hard time when I'm unhappy, and traditionally relationships have not been that happy for me. You're the exception, not the rule -- well, you and Peggy, and you've beaten her record now, so he'll come around. It would help if you came to brunch."
"Then I'll come," Tony said, curling his arm until Steve took the hint and swung around, straddling his lap. He pressed their foreheads together, one hand rising to rest against the arc reactor --
Tony flinched and hissed, and Steve pulled his hand back, concerned.
"Tender," Tony said, catching Steve's questioning look. "All the pressure changes from the flight today, probably."
"You should rest, Pepper's right," Steve said, leaning back and sliding off him. He offered his hands to pull Tony to his feet, then led him backwards through the living room. Tony went, looking amused at his coaxing, and caught him around the waist in the doorway.
"You're not going home yet, are you?" he asked in Steve's ear.
"No, but we're both going to bed," Steve answered.
"That's the idea."
"To sleep, Tony. It's been a long day," Steve said, gently herding him towards the giant penthouse closet. Tony looked faintly annoyed, but by the time they were both in pajamas and the lights were out, he also looked exhausted. He was back up to the weight he'd been before Afghanistan, maybe even a little heavier and definitely all muscle, but his sleeping was still erratic, interrupted occasionally by nightmares or by the creative urge.
When it was nightmares, Steve would lie awake with him, mumbling half-conscious reassurances; when Tony got up in the middle of the night, Steve would roll over, make a garbled request to JARVIS to wake him in two hours, and then get another dose of sleep before getting up to make sure Tony hadn't set himself or anything else on fire. Tony had told him he didn't have to do either, brusquely reminding Steve that he was boyfriend, not paid nurse, but Steve liked looking after him, liked having someone to look after in general.
Tony was out cold within two minutes of getting horizontal, and that was factoring in the thirty seconds of lazy attempts to get Steve to make out with him. Steve smiled and curled up against him, hungry as always for the shared body heat, and read SHIELD intel updates on his phone until he drifted off as well.
***
New York took some readjustment. Steve realized that he and Tony had never really lived "normal" -- first they'd been dating in New York while Steve lied about his job, and then they'd been cohabitating, essentially sequestered together, in Malibu while Tony recovered from the abduction. Moving back into his own apartment was strange, and while he liked the solitude and the chance to work on his art, not to mention the proximity to most of his friends, Steve found himself spending more nights in Manhattan, in Tony's penthouse, than he was at home.
It was strange, too, to take missions for SHIELD now that Tony knew what he did for a living. Every so often, he'd get the call from Coulson or Peggy and either haul ass to HQ or get picked up off the Stark Tower helipad; he'd return tired, sometimes injured, and either go to his place to find Tony asleep in his ridiculous cheap IKEA bed or arrive at Stark Tower to be scanned by JARVIS and fussed over in Tony's palatial bathroom.
Once in a while he was given mission command, a subtle nudge that Coulson was still waiting to hear from him. Peggy would cede leadership of the mission to him, or he'd go out without her with a team assigned to follow his orders. He was so used to Natasha's implacable calm brutality and Clint's wisecracking that working with other teams was hard, but it gave him a better sense of the personality of SHIELD -- and word started to get around, in a way it hadn't previously, that little Agent Rogers was not the nerdy, weedy analyst everyone assumed him to be.
And then came the subpoena.
He'd been having such a good time at the Stark Expo. Tony was excited about opening it, and Steve had the best all-access pass ever. He got VIP backstage treatment, went to the front of every line, ate free belgian waffles at the belgian waffle huts. He'd arranged for a bunch of disadvantaged families the Maria Stark Foundation picked out to get similar passes, so he'd spent most of the afternoon running around with a bunch of cool -- well, a bunch of cool mini-hims, poor kids and sick kids and kids whose parents were just barely hanging in there, and that was really satisfying too.
He'd seen Tony make his big entrance and his big speech from backstage, and they'd almost made it to the car to head to a nice hotel for the night (Steve had plans) when a US Marshal had shown up and given Tony a subpoena.
"Hey, you're on here too," Tony said, examining it as he sat in the car.
"Really?" Steve asked, accepting the subpoena from him. "I've never been called to testify before a Senate committee before."
"You've just made his night," Tony said to the Marshal. "Can we drop you anywhere before we head out?"
She gave them a sunny smile, apparently pleased that neither of them blamed her for it. "No, I'm going to the Expo. You two have fun."
"This is very exciting," Steve said. "It's like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."
"How far is DC from here?" Tony asked him.
"I don't know, about 200 miles? Want me to pull some strings at SHIELD, see if I can get us a chopper?" Steve asked.
"How do you feel about driving with the top down?" Tony replied.
"I feel pretty good about it, but I'm gonna need a suit and a haircut when we get there."
"Call Pepper," Tony said, pulling away from the valet stand. "Let her know what's going on, and set up some Getting Fancy For The Senate services in DC. Also tell her to get whoever we've got on Stark Legal in DC to meet us at the hotel for a prefunc."
"I'll call in a minute," Steve said, enjoying the rush of air when they left the parking lot behind and hit the empty road. "I gotta google if we're allowed to filibuster committee hearings."
"Your passion for civic duty is adorable," Tony told him. "But why don't you let me do the yelling, huh? I'm used to it."
"We'll see," Steve said, texting Bucky excitedly to ask him to Tivo C-SPAN.
***
OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT - DO NOT ALTER
SENATE ARMED SERVICES COMMITTEE HEARING
TESTIMONY: STEVEN GRANT ROGERS
REGARDING: IRON MAN ARMOR
SEN. STERN: Now we've heard from Colonel Rhodes, the committee requests the testimony of Mr. Steve Rogers -- thank you, Mr. Rogers, we recognize you there next to Mr. Stark.
AGENT ROGERS: Agent Rogers, please, Senator.
SEN. STERN: Beg pardon?
AGENT ROGERS: My correct address is Agent Rogers, sir.
SEN. STERN: "Agent" Rogers, my apologies. You are a close personal friend of Mr. Stark's?
AGENT ROGERS: No, sir.
SEN. STERN: No?
AGENT ROGERS: No, sir.
SEN. STERN: How would you characterize your relationship with Mr. Stark?
AGENT ROGERS: I am Mr. Stark's boyfriend, Senator.
SEN. STERN: Very well. As an Agent of SHIELD --
AGENT ROGERS: Excuse me, Senator, I'd like to request some clarification.
SEN. STERN: On what? We haven't begun yet.
AGENT ROGERS: I'd like to know if I am testifying today as an agent of the federal government in close contact with the Iron Man prosthesis or as a private citizen in close contact with Mr. Stark.
SEN. STERN: Will that change your answers?
AGENT ROGERS: If I am testifying as an agent of the Strategic Homeland, Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, with high level security clearance, I believe I have the right to SHIELD counsel regarding what I'm permitted to disclose.
SEN. STERN: Is that really necessary?
AGENT ROGERS: It's a matter of my job, Senator; I have to observe the formalities. If you had notified me more than twelve hours in advance, I could have had counsel present today, but if you wish me to testify as a federal agent, we will need to recess until I can contact my office and arrange for counsel to be present.
SEN. STERN: Let's just have Mr. Rogers the civilian testify, then.
AGENT ROGERS: Still addressed as agent, Senator.
SEN. STERN: Regardless of address, "Agent" Rogers, you will answer the questions put to you here clearly and without further obstruction.
AGENT ROGERS: As soon as I receive a question, I'll answer it.
[Laughter.]
SEN. STERN: Order, please. "Agent" Rogers, what is your opinion of the Iron Man armor?
AGENT ROGERS: I think the Iron Man is beautifully sculpted, a perfect aesthetic marriage of form and function. The color serves a dual purpose of high visibility during emergency and --
SEN. STERN: The capabilities of the armor, "Agent" Rogers.
AGENT ROGERS: Senator, the man who built the armor is sitting next to me. Surely this question --
SEN. STERN: The committee wishes to hear your opinion of the armor.
AGENT ROGERS: Of the capabilities of the armor.
SEN. STERN: Yes.
AGENT ROGERS: Well, it's very useful for changing lightbulbs on high ceilings. And it's fun to take through the Drive-thru.
[Laughter]
SEN. STERN: The combat capabilities of the armor.
AGENT ROGERS: Such as?
SEN. STERN: That's what we're trying to determine, "Agent" Rogers.
AGENT ROGERS: You'd like to know top speed, energy usage, armaments, gun calibers, PSI on grips for hand-to-hand combat? Technical specs?
SEN. STERN: Precisely, Agent Rogers. To the best of your knowledge.
AGENT ROGERS: Unfortunately I am legally enjoined from revealing the specifications of proprietary Stark technology in the public, Senator Stern. Any attempt to compel me to discuss Stark Industries technology or Mr. Stark's personal research and development will result in your liability to lawsuit by Stark Industries as well as my own. I have a copy of my nondisclosure agreement here, I'd like to enter it into evidence now.
SEN. STERN: The committee does not recognize privately arranged and no doubt hastily assembled nondisclosure agreements --
AGENT ROGERS: I see. Sir, are you currently attempting to claim access to Stark Industries technology under Eminent Domain? I assume you have the appropriate documentation, if so, which I'd like to have counsel examine. In this case Mr. Stark's counsel will be sufficient --
SEN. STERN: Agent Rogers, you will be held in contempt if you refuse to answer the committee's questions.
AGENT ROGERS: It's up to you, Senator; I believe Mr. Stark's counsel have the injunction against further questioning and the lawsuit against you, personally, prepared -- yes, here it is, thank you, Ms. Walters --
SEN. STERN: Agent Rogers, you will answer the questions the committee puts to you or you will be subject to detention.
AGENT ROGERS: If the officer of the court will now serve this injunction to Senator Stern --
SEN. STERN: This staged demonstration of your disdain for the government which employs you, Agent Rogers --
AGENT ROGERS: I have every love for my government both as my employer and as my representative but it is the duty of every citizen to defend the rights of the individual against corrupt acts by those in power.
SEN. STERN: Corrupt acts --
AGENT ROGERS: The imprecise, biased nature of your questions and your attempt to coerce me into illegal disclosure
SEN. STERN: Agent Rogers, you are in contempt!
AGENT ROGERS CONT'D: has made it quite clear, Senator, that you are acting against the best interest both of your constituency and of the American
SEN. STERN: Agent Rogers, you are ordered by the committee to be silent!
AGENT ROGERS CONT'D: people. I'm afraid, sir, that as an agent of the Federal government,
SEN. STERN: You are not here as an agent of the government, sir.
AGENT ROGERS CONT'D: -- I am an agent of the government at all times, Senator -- if you attempt any further questioning I will be forced to charge
SEN. STERN: You wouldn't dare.
AGENT ROGERS CONT'D: you with criminal abuse of power and initiate a formal request for impeachment. Oh thank you, Senator Abayos --
MR. STARK: Please let the record reflect that Senator Abayos has turned off Senator Stern's microphone.
SEN. ABAYOS: Agent Rogers, I believe your point has been made.
AGENT ROGERS: With all due respect, Senator Abayos, I have a closing statement.
SEN. ABAYOS: Can I stop you?
AGENT ROGERS: Well, ma'am, you could try, but I wouldn't give you great odds.
[Laughter]
SEN. ABAYOS: You have two minutes, Agent Rogers.
AGENT ROGERS: Thank you, Senator. I would like the record to reflect that I am here because someone thought Mr. Stark could be made more amenable to questioning if he was threatened with the prospect of having his boyfriend questioned before the Senate. I believe that someone on this committee thought I would be fearful of being questioned about my partner or being charged with contempt and imprisoned. I am not afraid of Senator Stern and I will not be coerced by my own government. If the Senate continues to attempt to infringe on my or Mr. Stark's rights, I will initiate SHIELD investigations into each and every single one of your offices on suspicion of abuse of power. I have nothing to hide, Senators. If you can say the same, feel free to proceed.
[Applause]
SEN. ABAYOS: Are you finished, Agent Rogers?
AGENT ROGERS: That's up to you, Senator.
SEN. ABAYOS: Let's recess for the day.
MR. STARK: Are we done here? I think we're done here. Come on, Mr. Smith, I'll buy you a hot dog.
AGENT ROGERS: Thank you for your time, Senators. If you have any further inquiries to make, you may address them through SHIELD official legal channels or through Stark Industries' legal department.
TRANSCRIPT ENDS
***
Steve didn't think it was particularly heroic, what he'd done, or even that interesting to anyone who wasn't him. But C-SPAN had been carrying the hearings live and had caught his performance, and apparently people other than Bucky did still watch C-SPAN.
And put clips of C-SPAN on YouTube.
And put animated image files of YouTube clips on Facebook and Tumblr.
"Well, the good news is, you'll never again end up doing those undercover jobs you used to hate," Peggy said comfortingly, a few days after the hearings ended. The reporters had stopped camping out on his doorstep, but he still came up in late-night talk show monologues on a nightly basis. Sam and Bucky thought it was all hilarious, and Tony got amorous every time Steve brought up what he'd done, so it had fallen to Peggy to be a sympathetic would-be therapist.
"If you didn't want to be famous, darling, you shouldn't have threatened to black the eye of the entire US government because they were bothering your boyfriend," she added.
"I didn't do it because they were threatening Tony," Steve said crankily. "I did it because they were doing it unethically."
Peggy sighed. "Sometimes I'm very glad we broke up," she said, "but your principles may have ruined me for ordinary men."
Steve shot her a sidelong look. "You seem to be doing all right with Operation: Rhodey."
"Well, he's not ordinary, is he? Bit of a snag, though. Angie thinks he wouldn't go for a threesome."
"That'd be a shame if it was true."
"I think he might. I suppose we'll find out, sooner or later."
"Well, she gets to gloat or she gets a threesome, so I suppose her bases are covered either way," Steve said. "I couldn't share Tony at all."
"No?"
"I'm a one-at-a-time kind of guy, you know that. And he's the insecure type, he wouldn't take the idea well."
"Tony Stark, insecure?"
"In love? The stories I could tell. Anyway, I've got my hands full with him. Did you see Stern's little internal homophobic panic when I said the word boyfriend, by the way?"
"It was glorious. I love seeing powerful people made uncomfortable."
"I thought he'd bite his tongue in half," Steve said, and Peggy grinned at him. "Just imagine how he'd handle foreign polyamorous bisexual spymaster Peggy Carter."
"He'd probably try to subpoena SHIELD on some kind of morality charge. McCarthy all over again," Peggy said, ruffling Steve's hair. "I do miss working with you, now that you're all grown up in the leadership program."
"You need to get promoted and take over when Coulson retires."
"As though Phil Coulson would retire," she said. "That reminds me, though, he wants to see you tomorrow. Leadership exercise, he said."
"Wonder where he's got me going this time," Steve said, flopping back on the couch.
"Somewhere exciting, I'm sure. I must be away home; you're all right here?" she asked, standing.
"Sure, I'm fine. Working on some sketches, in between jobs."
"Nice to see you sketching again. You need a nude of Tony to match that one of me."
"I've asked. He's been squeamish about getting naked lately." Steve shrugged. "Drive safe, Peggy. Hi to Angie."
"Don't stay up too late. You're probably shipping out in the morning," she said. "Maybe Vienna!"
"Fingers crossed," Steve called as she left.
***
It wasn't Vienna.
"So agility's your gig, right?" Rumlow, one of his new test-agents, asked on the flight to Alberta.
"How do you mean?" Steve asked, checking his rifle. Whatever was murdering campers in rural Canada was probably too fast to be picked off by a sniper, not that Steve was especially good at distance shooting anyway, but it never hurt to be prepared. Clint had picked these out before telling him to enjoy his field trip.
Steve was going to be god damned annoyed if all this mission prep was for some kind of freakishly violent bear.
"Move so fast nobody can catch you?" Rumlow said. "Agent Dorchester said she saw you take down three guys my size without a scratch, on your last mission."
"I think I've still got the scar from that not-a-scratch," Steve said.
"But you took out three guys?"
"I guess agility's part of it," Steve said, with a small nod. "Most of these guys, you step from in front of them to their left side and it takes them a good two-three seconds to work out what you're doing. Hired muscle doesn't tend to be that bright, which helps."
"Why you think that is?"
"If they were as smart as us they'd be SHIELD agents too," Steve said, and Rumlow grinned. He was inclined to like Rumlow; he was a little coarse around the edges and a little cocky, but most SHIELD agents were at least one of those, and Rumlow seemed to have a healthy respect for, if not him, then at least the chain of command.
And he appreciated the fact that Rumlow hadn't made any sly remarks about the Senate hearing, or about his boyfriend.
"So, say whoever it is jumps us and you dodge, what you want me to do?" Rumlow asked. "I'm not gonna be able to move like you can."
Steve sized him up thoughtfully. He was big, all chest and thigh, and it was true he didn't look nimble.
"I want you to be my wrecking ball," Steve said. "You see something big coming at me, give me a chance to set him up, and when you see an opportunity to go right through him, you take it. You guys," he added to the other two, who hadn't spoken or even really looked at him since the briefing, "I want you on rear point. Keep your distance. Use your guns but only if you can confirm intent to harm, you get me?"
They nodded. One of them glanced at the other and rolled his eyes when he thought Steve was turning away. Steve considered throwing a knife just to get their undivided attention, but he decided against it. Lately he'd found that it was a lot more fun just to get dirty in the field and watch everyone else react in disbelief.
He stepped to the back of the transport plane, away from the others, and tapped his headset to call out to Tony.
"How's beautiful São Paolo?" Tony answered.
"You assume I go to much prettier places than I do," Steve replied. "I told you I'm chasing murderers in Canada."
"I like to keep some mystery in the relationship. And I like picturing you in a speedo."
"Well, keep that in mind, this could be a few days."
"The fuck are you on serial killer duty, anyway? So some crazy's living in the woods killing people, that's not a SHIELD interest."
"Figure there's more to it," Steve said. "I guess we'll find out. Might be a rogue agent SHIELD doesn't want to admit exists, might be some other person within our sphere. Anyway, we're going into pretty intense wilderness. I probably won't have phone service except in emergencies, so I thought I'd check in before I go radio silent. All quiet back home?"
"Yep, just tinkering with some new compounds," Tony said. He'd really thrown himself into the chemical engineering work, and Steve had caught him more than once falling asleep over an advanced molecular physics text on his tablet.
"I'll keep the lights on for you," Tony continued. "Don't wrestle any moose."
"I'll do my best. Love you."
"Back atcha," Tony said, distractedly. "Stuff's on fire, gotta go. Stay safe."
"You too," Steve said, tapping his comm again to drop back onto the radio channel. "Okay guys, nearly there. Let's do a radio check..."
***
The serial killer turned out to be Bigfoot.
"Did you think," Rumlow asked, frantically reloading in a snowbank behind a tree, "when we took this job, that Yetis were even on offer?"
"I think technically it's a Wendigo," Steve replied.
"You're pretty current on your imaginary monster taxonomy."
"Wendigos are Canadian, Yetis are Nepalese."
"Either way, that thing's fucking bizarre."
Steve nodded, shedding his rifle. "Stay there, I'm going to go up the tree."
"Ho -- oww," Rumlow managed, as Steve stood on his shoulder to reach the first branch, then propelled himself upward using the top of his head. "Son of a bitch, Rogers!"
"Keep quiet," Steve ordered, climbing fast. They'd been tracking the -- thing -- for a day and a half, and they'd seen it visit the remains of a human victim. When it went after a campsite full of tourists, they'd managed to drive it back into the woods, but the woods were what it knew, and he and Rumlow had become prey very quickly. One of the other agents had gone for backup, and one was evacuating campers, both very necessary tasks -- but that still meant it was the two of them on their own.
There it was, he could see it looking for them now. Big and blue-grey, with fangs hanging over its lower lip and a thick mane of coarse hair around its remarkably human face. It was easily eight feet tall. At the moment it was investigating a boulder in the landscape, but if it was like any other predator ever, it'd scent them soon enough.
On the other hand, it was basically shaped like a person, and like a person, it had a neck with a windpipe in it.
"Rumlow," Steve hissed.
"Sir?"
"Get ready to wrecking-ball if necessary," Steve said. He inched his way out onto a reasonably sturdy branch, lying on his stomach, and watched as the Wendigo sniffed the air, pivoting towards them. It took a few lumbering steps, then a few more, approaching with the caution of a creature that was used to the offensive but had encountered men with guns before.
Steve held his breath, waiting, and then when it was about to discover Rumlow's blind, he slid and dropped without a sound, light as a snowflake.
Directly onto the creature's shoulders, arms around its neck.
It bellowed in surprise and lifted its clawed arms to try and pull him off, but Steve hung low against its back, and it was more interested in getting at him then getting him to release his chokehold on its throat. It was a wild few seconds as it tried to shake him off, and Steve felt himself repeatedly slammed against the thing's bony back, face buried in stinking fur.
He'd been hoping to compress the carotid arteries, or go relatively brute-force and choke off the trachea, but the thing got wise to him too fast; he saw it lifting its claws to rake his arms off its throat, and he acted on instinct -- popped a blade out of his sleeve, pressed it deep into the muscles of the neck, and let himself drop, gravity pulling the blade across and slitting its throat. He regretted it, even knowing it was a killer, but there was no other option. The Wendigo staggered forward, seemingly about to fall, and then straightened and gurgled and went over backwards, forcing Steve to throw himself to one side in slushy mud.
Rumlow was there as soon as he pushed himself up, offering a hand. "I thought you were gonna give me a high sign," he said.
"Sorry, thought I could get him unconscious," Steve said. "Great job playing bait, though."
"Sure, just what every guy wants to be," Rumlow said. "Jesus. It's bigger on the ground, I swear to God. You think eight, nine feet tall? Hey, go over there, pose with it, I'll take your picture."
"No," Steve said, glancing at the still corpse nearby. "I don't think that would be appropriate, do you?"
Rumlow sighed. "Guess not. You want me to send up the flare?"
"Yeah." Steve brushed ineffectually at the mud caking half his suit. "I want a hot shower and something to eat that isn't a nutrition bar."
Rumlow grinned at him. "You live up to the hype, Rogers."
"Thanks, I do my best."
***
The recovery team arrived reasonably fast and loaded both them and the Wendigo into the back of a transport copter, but by the time they actually reached the Helicarrier, which was lurking somewhere in the Pacific, the thing had begun to smell. Steve trooped grimly off the transport, past a wave of gagging hangar crew, and made it almost all the way to the nearest shower before Coulson fell into step beside him. Coulson, bless him, didn't even wrinkle his nose.
"Please tell me that thing we recovered is a naturally occurring cryptid and not some kind of horrifying secret Canadian science experiment," Steve said.
"From the photos you sent back, we can't be sure, but I would imagine if it's someone's lab rat, it'll be tagged somehow," Coulson replied. "Otherwise, congratulations, you found a Yeti."
"Wendigo."
"Ah yes, so the initial report said," Coulson replied, reading from a tablet. "And I quote, a giant fucking Wendigo or other Bigfoot-type creature that stinks like a four day old shit."
"I might have still been running on adrenaline when I wrote that," Steve admitted.
"I think a little profanity is understandable, given the circumstances."
"Were you expecting us to find that? What we found?" Steve asked, stopping in the doorway of the locker room. Coulson gestured him inside, following him past banks of lockers towards the wall that divided off the shower.
"We were expecting something unusual. The Canadian government had sent us intel that suggested a SHIELD strike team was the most appropriate response," Coulson said. Steve heard him turn and lock the door.
"What's going on, Coulson?" Steve asked, but he kept undressing. If this was some weird attempt on his life he could kill Coulson as easily naked as he could clothed, and he'd left his weapons back in the transport anyway.
"I have an eyes-only briefing," Coulson replied, and Steve relaxed, turning on the water. Nothing as creepy as he'd imagined, then, just some required privacy during a briefing. "Do you remember what Erskine used to say about miracles?"
"Sure," Steve said, scrubbing himself with the rough, cheap SHIELD soap. "There's nothing more terrifying than a miracle in an age unused to them."
"He also thought there might come a moment when we entered an age of miracles. He called it the heroic age."
"Coulson, I loved Erskine and I know you did too, but he also believed that Norse mythology was based in fact. You don't get genius without a little crazy." He raked his fingers through his hair, grimacing at the renewed stink that wafted off him. A lemon was flipped over the wall, and he caught it, breaking it open with his fingernails and scrubbing the juice into his hair. "Thanks."
"Not a problem. My point is, SHIELD has become the de-facto agency to deal with the unusual."
"Like the wendigo."
"Like the wendigo, and like this," Coulson said, leaning around the wall to hold up his tablet. Steve turned to look at it, wiping suds off his face.
"It's a hammer," he said, looking up at Coulson.
"It is, indeed, a hammer," Coulson agreed. He tapped the advance key on the tablet, and video began to play. Steve, lemon forgotten in one hand, watched as a series of rough-looking men in jeans and predominantly plaid shirts stepped up to the hammer, tried to lift it, and walked away defeated. The last part of the clip was of a truck trying the same thing and getting ripped in half. "It fell out of the sky yesterday in a small town in New Mexico. Nobody's been able to move it, and it's putting out a significant level of electromagnetic activity."
"Well, if they can't lift it, I don't think I'm your guy," Steve said drily.
"I've just returned from Puente Antiguo to collect you; the nearest SHIELD office is sending agents and supplies for a fully secured compound around the object. You're going to be my second at the base. Head of security for the entire operation -- thirty or forty agents and support staff."
"I haven't even dried off yet," Steve said, giving himself one last scrub with the lemon before ducking under the water to rinse himself clean. "I haven't seen Tony in almost a week, I'm beat to hell from the Canadian cryptid monster. Has something happened to Peggy?" he asked, worry filling him.
"Peggy's fine, she's on another mission. I know this isn't convenient, but I need you with me at the site. There shouldn't be a lot of action," Coulson said. "This is administrative, primarily. Give you a chance to rest. New Mexico's nice this time of year."
"Keeps me off the radar," Steve said darkly. "Am I still viral on Facebook?"
"More or less. That's actually dying down, though. We genuinely need you on the ground in New Mexico, Nomad. Fly Stark out if you like, he can afford it and he might be able to help us figure out what the hell it is."
"No, he's busy with SI," Steve said, feeling troubled in a way he couldn't identify. "Do I have time to put some clean pants on and call him before you whisk me away to the desert?"
"Pants," Coulson said, handing him a pair of uniform pants a size too big. "There's a go-bag packed for you, and you can call Stark on the way."
There wasn't just a go-bag waiting for him at the minijet; to his surprise, Sam and Bucky were there too. Sam had his flight rig slung over one shoulder, and Bucky had a rifle case at his feet.
"What the -- " Steve turned to Coulson, confused.
"Agent Carter has convinced Mr. Wilson to join us in a freelance capacity," Coulson said, as Steve greeted Bucky and then Sam with hugs, slapping them on the back. "We also believe Mr. Barnes may be of use for this particular project."
"This particular project?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow, looking back and forth between them as Coulson gently urged them all onto the plane.
"Truth is, SHIELD's been after me for months," Bucky said, looking uncomfortable. "After Clint saw my shooting in Afghanistan, they came knockin'."
"What?" Steve asked. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I did say somethin', I said no, to them," Bucky told him. "And then I sorta said...maybe, and then I said not unless it was working in your unit."
"Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes are officially under your command," Coulson said. "They're considered consultants. If and when you're confirmed as a team leader, you may invite them to join SHIELD."
"Which I don't actually want," Sam added. "I like the consulting rates and I already got healthcare through the VA."
"Duly noted," Steve said, feeling a little bowled over. "Have you been, uh, been briefed?"
"Waiting on you," Sam said.
"Give him a minute, then we'll get started," Coulson said, as the minijet lifted off. Steve sat down near the back and checked his phone while the others stowed their luggage. He'd emailed Tony on the flight in, and it looked like Tony had dictated his reply to JARVIS about half an hour ago. There was a certain endearingly run-on quality to his dictated emails, unlike his typed ones, which were formal in the way of a man who sends a lot of business email.
"Good afternoon, Agent Rogers," JARVIS said, when he called Tony's number. "I trust you've been decontaminated by now?"
"That I have," Steve said. "But I've got some bad news. Tony working on something delicate?"
"Sir is feeling unwell," JARVIS said. "He is currently sleeping."
"Well, at least he's getting rest," Steve said. "If I ask you for his sleep stats the last week or so, is that being an invasive boyfriend?"
"Average of nine hours a night," JARVIS replied.
That couldn't be right. Tony barely slept six on a good night. It used to worry him, but apparently Tony was just one of those people who thrived on the verge of sleep deprivation.
"Is it the flu?" Steve asked.
"Sir has not consulted a doctor. He does display some flu-like symptoms."
"Man, everything happens at once," Steve sighed. "Listen, Coulson has me on a really important assignment coming off the last one, I'm on my way to some small town in New Mexico. If it lasts longer than a week I'm going to ask for a furlough but in the meantime, keep him hydrated and keep his calories up for me, wouldja?"
"Colonel Rhodes is present and supervising Sir's health," JARVIS said.
"That's a genuine relief, tell him I say hi. Put me through to voicemail and let me leave a message, please?"
"Of course," JARVIS said, and there was a gentle beep.
"Hey, sweetheart," Steve said. "Sorry to bail on you when you're sick, but I've been called out to New Mexico to deal with something very weird there. Feel better and let Rhodey look after you, okay? If you need me to come home, tell me and I'll figure something out. Give me a call when you're up, I miss your voice. Love you."
He looked over at the others as he hung up the phone and found Coulson watching him, an odd look on his face -- not quite sympathy, not quite concern. It was gone so fast he wondered if he'd imagined it, and pretty soon he was distracted anyway by the more thorough briefing Coulson was giving him. Staff numbers, dossiers, and operations codes filled his head, and it wasn't until he was well on his way to sleep that night, in a trailer he and Clint were sharing inside the compound, that he remembered Tony hadn't called him back.
***
"Dare you," Bucky said the next morning, devouring a breakfast sandwich from the hastily-erected compound kitchen. Steve, watching the SHIELD brain trust lay out sensors around the hammer, crossed his arms.
"Not until the sensors are live," Steve said. "And I want the guys from the local office to try first."
"Be funny if I could pick it up," Bucky said.
"Why would that be funny?"
"I dunno. The one handed hammer man," Bucky mused. "Something, you know, folkloric about that."
"You know what's folkloric about this," Steve said, crouching to get eye-to-handle with the hammer, "is the magical whatnot that appears from nowhere. Which generally isn't actually a good thing for the guy who picks it up."
"I don't know, the swineherd-turned-prince by the power of the magical whatnot usually ends up okay," Sam said from the level above them. "Coulson said to tell you they've got the sensors live and to get your skinny butt out of the way because you're screwing up their baseline readings."
Steve smiled and backed off, hoisting himself onto the scaffold and going up hand-over-hand until he'd reached the second level.
"Punk," Bucky called, stepping back into the structure on the lower level.
"Go on, Buck, give it a try," Steve said, as the sensors all lit up green. Bucky leaned out and looked up, eyes narrowed, but he edged his way towards the hammer and gripped it with his right hand, adjusting his fingers a few times before tugging. The hammer might as well have been welded into a base under the dirt.
A handful of field agents spilled out of the main doorway into the enclosure, elbowing each other, taking turns trying their luck on the hammer. Sam slid down the scaffold to give it a shot, and Steve leaned on the rail and heckled with the rest of them until everyone had tried.
"Okay, Mr. Supervisory Field Agent Sir," Bucky called up. "Put your money where your mouth is."
"Fine, I don't know what you expect," Steve said, jumping down, landing lightly and giving a little bow when the other agents mock-ooohed at him over the jump. "But I guess little guys do know more about levera-ehh!"
He'd grabbed the handle in the middle of the sentence and tugged, expecting no result at all; instead, just as he said leverage, the handle jerked towards him. For a second, it went with the movement of his arm, and then it fell back again, tugging him off-balance, forcing the air out of his chest. He stumbled, let go of the handle, and pivoted, staring wide-eyed at it.
"Did that just...move?" Sam asked. Steve looked up and around. Half of the sensors were flashing red.
"No way," one of the agents said.
"Do it again," Bucky urged. "Go on, Steve, give it another try."
Steve inhaled, squared his shoulders, and gripped the handle again. This time, when he tugged, nothing happened.
"Trick of the light," someone said, and everyone began filing back inside. He knew it must have moved -- he could still feel soreness in his arm, the shock in his lungs -- but maybe it wasn't related, maybe the hammer had just shifted on its own.
"Hey Coulson," he said into his earpiece. "Did you catch that?"
"Cameras glitched," Coulson said. "We have two frames. It definitely moved. Get up here, the scientists are going to come mob you if you don't."
"On my way," Steve replied, heading for the exit.
***
That afternoon, a few thousand miles away, Nick Fury carried two printouts of video stills into a small room on the helicarrier.
"Thought you might like to see these," he said, laying them flat on a scanner. "They're related to your Black Swan that came down in New Mexico."
The scanner lit up, and two monitors each showed one of the images; after a second, they combined, one overlaying the other. It was clear Steve Rogers had managed to shift the hammer, even if only for a second.
A tinny voice said, "Hmm. Are we sure he did it?"
"Pretty fucking sure," Fury replied.
"Must you?" the voice sighed.
"Pretty gosh-darned sure," Fury corrected with a grin. "Scientists ran a whole truckload of tests on him; everything came back normal, or at least baseline for Rogers."
"Well. I can't see any variables I'd care to introduce, though I'll have a look through the tests when they're available. How is Mr. Stark?"
"Circling the drain."
"All heart, Nicholas."
"Hey, you have any ideas, I'm open. Obviously Stark's out of them."
"Don't discount Anthony so quickly. I remember his father had -- hmm," the voice said again. "Where did we store Howard's old reels and notes?"
"The warehouse in Jersey. You think it's time?"
"Don't you?"
Fury considered the monitors thoughtfully. "I don't think he's desperate enough yet."
"This is a man's life, Nicholas."
"Yeah, but -- hit him at the wrong psychological moment and he won't take our help. He'll die anyway," Fury said.
"Well, I defer to you. Do as you wish, but don't hold off too long. I do hate to see Steven upset."
"See, this is why you have me," Fury said with a smile, gathering up the printouts and dropping them into a smokeless incinerator box nearby. "To ignore your bleeding heart and do the job before us."
"Better a bleeding heart than bloody hands." There was a sigh. "Although that is too late for both of us, I suppose. How is the search in Greenland going?"
"Nothing yet. Few promising leads. We'll get there."
"Howard Stark did not get there in forty years of looking."
"Howard Stark didn't have GPS," Fury said. "I'll have them send the keyhole data from Puente Antiguo over to you in twelve hour updates. Yell if you find anything."
"Good luck, Nicholas."
***
"Hey, finally," Steve said that afternoon, when Tony answered his second call. "How's that flu, Tony?"
"The flu?" Tony asked, sounding confused. "Oh -- oh! Sorry yeah. Um. Still clearly not that great," he said. "Sorry I didn't call sooner."
"No big deal, I'd rather you catch up on sleep. JARVIS said Rhodey was looking after you."
"Well, yeah, I guess..." Tony sounded distant, and a little agitated. "So you haven't been watching TV or anything?"
"No, we're on an external media lockdown -- I'm in the secure phone room just to make this call, by the way, so consider yourself tape-recorded. Why? Something happen?"
"N-no, nothing to worry about. A little Iron Man business."
"You okay?"
"Sure. Barely bruised. How's the desert?"
"I might move here. My lungs love the dry air. Good for the sinuses."
"You can't move to the ass of New Mexico."
"It's pretty here," Steve teased. "Nice quiet life. Build a little shack, solar power, get off-grid like a survivalist."
"This is my hell," Tony groaned.
"You'd get used to the total disconnection from the rest of humanity," Steve said.
"Ugh, you're terrible. Hey, I hear Sam and Bucky are there."
"Yeah," Steve said, grinning. "SHIELD recruited them."
"Am I next?"
"Nope, you're my personal property, they can't have you."
"I am no man's toy, Steven," Tony said. Steve laughed.
"Good to hear from you," he said. "I miss you like crazy, baby."
"I miss you too," Tony said, sounding genuinely sad, not his usual let's avoid all emotion by cracking wise. He must really be miserably sick. "Hey, I have a weird creepy question."
"I'm not dressing up in costume."
"Ha. Just you wait. No, um, am I in your will?"
Steve blinked. "My will?"
"Yeah. Is this -- this is a weird question to ask, I knew it -- "
"No, it's not that weird, uh...yeah, when we came back to New York I revised my will on file at SHIELD. Peggy's my executor but you get most of my art, cept for some stuff Bucky'd want. I mean, it's not like you're going to need my 401K or my furniture, and that's basically all I got, other than the art. Why do you ask?"
"I was just, uh, I was thinking I should put you in mine."
"Tony, that's -- actually really great," Steve said.
"It is?"
"Well, I mean in terms of, you and relationships are rarely on good terms, this is a nice...step for you, I guess? Maybe?" Steve ventured. "You don't have to, you know."
"But is there stuff you'd like? Like, you love the Ferrari, right?"
"I do love the Ferrari," Steve admitted. "But I don't want you to kick over just to get your car."
"You're on the death trust, you know, with Pepper. If I did die you'd never have to work again."
"I like my work, and this is getting kind of dark," Steve said. "I don't want to think about you dying, can we -- let's talk this over when I'm back in New York?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course. Hey, you love the Demuth, right? I'm putting the Demuth in there."
"Okay, that's fine, but I like you not dying more. Listen, this op might turn long-term but if I can I'm gonna get leave and come out there next week at the latest. If you get any sicker, I want you to message me, I'll get it and I'll come home. SHIELD can't keep me here if my partner has a medical emergency."
"How much sicker?"
"Do you need me to come home?"
"No," Tony said. He still sounded sad.
"Tony, if you get sicker, call me, I will come home," Steve said firmly. "I will always come find you, remember?"
"Love you."
"Love you too," Steve said. "If I don't hear from you tomorrow morning I'll call you around lunchtime. Eat some soup."
"Yessir."
"Bye, Tony."
"Bye, Duckling," Tony said, and Steve smiled as he hung up the phone.
It was a weird conversation to have, but just hearing from him made Steve feel better; he bounded up to the control room with a light heart.
"How's baby doing?" he asked Sitwell, leaning over a scientist's shoulder to check the video feed on the hammer.
"Cranky," Sitwell said. "Throwing out all kinds of interference. And we're having security issues. Do you know how many airplanes fly over Puente Antiguo? We have a guy doing nothing but rerouting commercial jets."
"Better him than me. Hey, is it just that it's metal, is that the reason it's warmer than what's around it?" Steve asked the scientist.
"Not sure," the man said. "Could be it's holding residual heat from the day, could be it's just...warmer. We'll know more now the temperature's dropping."
Steve glanced through one clear plastic window in the sheeting. "Wow."
"Storms brew up fast in the desert," Coulson said, joining them at the monitor bank.
"I hope those trailers you've got us in are waterproof. Can't stand a leaky roof," Steve remarked. He picked up a tablet lying nearby and logged in, checking the duty rosters as he watched the shift change on the monitors. "Buck's off-duty, Clint's on call, Sam's coming on -- I might run down to the mess and get some dinner before I hand off to Sam."
"Hang on," Coulson said, and Steve stopped, following his gaze to the monitors. "What is that?"
There was a bit of fence at the perimeter, bent upwards.
"Guess I'm on for a little longer," Steve said grimly, as all hell broke loose.
***
Technically, Steve wasn't supposed to be in the field. He was supposed to be up with Coulson, giving the orders. But he watched the blond man who'd broken into the compound rip through some of SHIELD's best agents like they were amateurs, and he couldn't just sit in the control room and push buttons. He felt a peculiar ownership of the hammer in a way he couldn't quite identify, and he wasn't going to let this guy try for it without a fight.
So, once Sam was in the air and Clint was on the crane, ensuring that the hammer was protected from above, Steve shimmied down a couple of support posts, ran through the curving access corridor of the compound, and came face-to-face with the man just as he threw Agent Moheo aside.
The man stopped, looking him up and down as Steve fell into a fighting stance. Then he chuckled. Steve knew that chuckle; it was the smug laugh of every asshole who had ever believed he had the upper hand against Steve and was enjoying it.
"Really?" the big guy asked, spreading his arms. "A boy is the last line of def -- "
He broke off with a strangled choke as Steve put all hundred and ten of his pounds into a single point, a sharp, targeted punch to the top of the sternum. The man staggered, but Steve didn't have time to gloat; he danced back, out of the way of a sudden bear-hug, and then brought his knee up into the man's nose when he stumbled forward.
It started pretty well, but after that it went downhill fast. Steve was used to bigger opponents being slow, used to relying on agility to get his job done, but this guy for all his size was nearly as fast and just as light on his feet. Steve got in a few more jabs on a few key pressure points, but then the guy just gave him a roar and a bum rush, not stopping for a second when Steve brought his hands down on the back of his head, and they went flying backwards through the plastic wall of the enclosure, into the mud outside.
Steve landed on his back, wind knocked out of him, and kicked his knee up on instinct, hitting him in the thigh; Blondie rolled off, groaning, but before Steve could get his breath back Blondie had flopped forward again with his elbow over Steve's chest, pinning him. Steve curled his knees, caught him in the head with one kneecap, ye