Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tony sighed, eyes sweeping the room idly, trying not to think of the ropes rubbing along his wrists. The water dripping from ceiling pipe echoed loudly through the silent room. Tony narrowed his eyes at it, as if daring the water to leak out again.  

God, what I would do for a wrench.

Of course, there were more pressing matters at the moment.

Like the fact that he was sitting bound in an old iron chair, staring up at what Tony assumed to be some mob man’s muscle.

The man was huge; if Tony listened closely enough, he could probably hear the clothes straining, trying to contain his bulk. The room was dark; the only light coming from a flickering bulb, but Tony could still make out the steely blue eyes that pierced him from across the room. Tony repressed a shudder. He was an intimidating man, sure, able to bring any business man to his knees in seconds. But Muscles over there did not sit well with Tony. Not that Tony would ever give him the satisfaction of knowing that. This wasn’t the first time Tony had ended up in some dank and smelly room, waiting for some second-rate criminal to try and strike a deal with him.

All that ended with was a migraine for Tony and a body bag for his so-called ‘captor’.

Tony’s not an idiot. Mafias are waiting at every turn in New York, and Tony’s skill set always makes him a target.

Please, like any one of those assholes could afford me.

Tony would just have to run his mouth for a good twenty minutes while his implanted tracker led Happy right to him. And then Happy would meet his captor of the week. Or, more importantly, Happy’s gun would meet their temple.

It was the same old song and dance; one that Tony had lost too many good suits too. If anything, it was just a hassle, and a waste of a perfectly good afternoon. Sometimes Happy, bless his heart, tried to mix it up once in a while so at least Tony could get some enjoyment out of it.

But it wasn’t that case now. Tony didn’t have a perfect internal clock, but even he knew it had been over an hour.

And no Happy.

Which was not good, because at this point Tony would be running out of things to ramble on about. That is, of course, if the guy had made any demands.

It was usually ‘build this’ or ‘hack that’, the same old spiel that Tony almost had memorized himself. Whatever asshole he was dealing with at the time would make his demands, threaten him with torture. If Tony was lucky, sometimes they would throw the word ‘murder’ around. And then Tony would laugh, crack his jokes, maybe get punched once or twice - life isn’t perfect - and then, cue Happy.

But there hadn’t been any demands. The man had said nothing, just stared coldly at Tony as he went on and on about how good his blood will accent the tie he’s wearing. Which, frankly, was just plain insulting. Tony really doesn’t do the whole silence thing, but he wasn’t about to let some nobody show him up. Which, of course, is how Tony found himself stewing silently, counting the blood splatters left on the wall.

At some point in time later, after at least an uncomfortable and silent fifteen minutes, the man had asked him something, but Tony, being the adult he is, had blatantly ignored him. See how you like it, asshole. 

But now even that was boring him.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Tony heard the man scoff. “I asked if you were ready to have a serious conversation with me yet.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me? I’ve wasted all my small talk on you.”

“Yes, all those empty threats really had me quivering in my boots,” he replied with a smirk.

“Empty threats my ass. Do you even know who I am? Listen, there’s still time to save you from the oncoming and definitely fatal embarrassment. How about we just part ways now and I’ll let you walk out of this alive; I’ll even give you the added bonus of minimal maiming. See? I’m nice like that.”

“I know exactly who you are, Mr. Stark.” The man walked towards Tony, stopping under the overhead light.

Well hot damn.

The man almost looked like an avenging angel, the light landing behind his head like a dim halo, accenting his sandy blonde locks. His cold, blue eyes flashed over Tony like he was fresh meat. Hell, this guy good give the statue David a run for his money.

I could probably bake cookies on his abs.

Tony flashed him a smile. “Well, sweet cheeks, it seems I’m at a disadvantage because I don’t know who you are.”

The blonde pulled up the second chair and sidled down in front of Tony. “And why does that matter?”

Tony shrugged. “I guess you make a good point. You’ll be dead soon anyway, learning your name would probably just waste my brain cells.”

“I don’t plan on dying today.”

Tony sighed. They never do. This idiot has no idea what he's gotten himself into. “You said you know who I am, yes? Then you should know that I’m a very powerful man with very powerful friends. This isn’t my first rodeo, kid. I know how this plays out. Spoiler alert, you end up at the bottom of the Hudson.”

The man let out a hollow laugh, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile. Of course it made him look even better. “Well it’s a good thing it’s not my first rodeo either.” With that, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small tube.

Tony’s tracker.

Uh oh.

The man sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Oh, you we’re counting on this, weren’t you?”

Tony opened his mouth before the blonde put up a large hand to stop him. “And before you ask, yes, we disabled it before we moved you, so there is no way your security can track you here. Your man Hogan’s probably wetting himself right now.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. Apparently that was enough for the blonde to break out into a larger grain, thinking he'd finally cornered Tony. “Who do you work for?”

“Oh, now you wanna talk.”

“Listen, I don’t have time for this bullshit- ”

“Well that’s good, because I don’t have time for yours. So this is how it’s going to go. We’re gonna have a little chat, and you’re going to cooperate. Do as I say and you’ll save yourself from an oncoming and definitely fatal embarrassment. I might let us part ways and let you walk out of this alive, even give you the added bonus of minimal maiming. See? I’m nice like that too.”

“You were listening! And here I thought you didn’t care,” Tony answered sardonically. 

“Mr. Stark- ”

“Listen, pal. No name, no deal. Well, I won’t deal with you anyway, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

The man sighed, looking up towards the ceiling. Tony smiled to himself, enjoying both the man’s frustration and the pale skin that adorned his neck. If he thought Tony was just going to roll over without his security team, he was even more stupid than Tony thought. It's always the pretty ones. 

“The Captain.”

Tony sputtered, unable to stop the laugh that escaped his lips. “The Captain. Are you kidding me?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Uh, yeah. The Captain and his mutts have never shown an interest in me or my business. In fact, I’m not even sure he lets his men off their leash; they’ve probably never seen what’s on the other side of Brooklyn’s borders. We don’t exactly roll with the same crowd, so don’t even bother trying to slander his name.”

Tony knew The Captain and his Howling Commandos were no laughing matter. Tony had never personally run into them, and he hoped to keep it that way. When The Captain first showed up on the radar, no one took him seriously. B-list mobsters are always popping up, trying to make a name for themselves, only to land behind bars. But somehow, he and his ragtag groupies had risen through the ranks, claiming Brooklyn for their own.

There wasn’t even a rival gang in Brooklyn because The Captain’s forces swoop in as soon as someone even thinks about mentioning the word ‘rebellion’. Tony still remembered what had happened to Schmidt’s gang. HYDRA came from an old family, its name ran deep in New York. They had been established long before the other mob even blinked into existence, but one run in with the Captain, and boom, they were gone. Destroyed. Eradicated.

Tony had seen the pictures. It was almost an art form, and Tony was, needless to say, impressed.

The cops couldn’t touch this guy, hell, half of them didn’t even want too. The Captain had sort of this Robin Hood thing going on, protecting Brooklyn from other gangs, corrupt officials; cleaning the streets without the law getting in the way.

What makes The Captain so terrifying is that with everything people have heard about the guy, no one knows anything about him. No one has any clue what he looks like, no idea how many Commandos are out there.

He’s the Big Brother of Brooklyn; he’s everywhere and he’s nowhere. He moves so quick that by the time someone catches wind of a potential heist, The Captain and his crew have come and gone, and probably half way through two other jobs. It was because of all this uncertainty that Tony tried to distance himself as much as possible. Tony thrived on information - it was his main currency. He didn't give The Commandos more than a second glance when they first showed up, and then, not even a month later, he was waking up to a morning without the looming threat of HYDRA. Since then, he tried valiantly, collecting any scrap of information that he could on the illusive team, trying to slap together their story. But he's never gotten a full picture. So until then, they remain a threat. One that Tony plans onto continue to avoid. 

“Slander his name?”

“If I don’t end up killing you, he probably will for using his name in vain.”

The man let out another quiet chuckle, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

“Laugh it up now, buddy. Just tell me who you work for. Is it Hammer? Killian? It’s Hammer, isn’t it? Look, I know your boss is an embarrassment to the human race, but you’re among friends here, you can tell me. I promise not to laugh,” Tony drawled. Now Hammer? Hammer he could deal with. Hammer can't manufacture a reliable weapon, let alone find reliable henchmen. The only threat Hammer posed was the potential of someone getting a picture of the two of them out in public together. He wasn't about to have another debacle with the local rag magazines, insinuating that he and Hammer were secret lovers. He already had to deal with it every time he went into Pepper's office, his assistant taking continued pleasure in his pain by having it framed on her desk. 

“No, I can promise you I don’t work for Hammer.”

“Oh, thank God. Seriously, a hot piece of ass like you, wasted on Hammer? It would have been a tragedy.”

Tony didn’t miss the faint flush that appeared on the blonde’s cheeks. A worthy sight, indeed.

“You are right, though, I don’t work for The Captain,” the man continued.  

“I knew it," Tony breathed. Thank God. "Come on, spill the beans.”

“I don’t work for anyone; they work for me.”

Tony groaned. “Oh, great, just what I needed. I get stuck with the new kid on the block. What luck. Tell me, good sir, how long do you think you’ll make it out there?”

“Well, I’ve actually been around for a while- ”

“Really.”

“Yes. I’m sorry it took us so long to meet, but you’ll have to forgive me, I’m not from around these parts.”

“What the- listen. You’re young. You’re fresh meat. The mobs in this town will eat you alive, spit you out, and leave you for the dogs. You’re not going to be able to hang with them. I get the whole angsty rebellion phase, trust me, I've been there, but there are other ways to deal with your feelings that won't end with you six feet under. Have you ever tried pottery? I hear it does wonders for the temperament.”

The man put his hands on his knees and stared straight at Tony. “Well, it’s a good thing I have a few dogs of my own," he replied, ignoring Tony's quips. "Of course, it could be a problem that I won’t let them off the leash. You’re right; they’ve probably never even been outside of Brooklyn.”

Tony froze.

I don’t work for anyone; they work for me.

I’ve been around for a while.

I’m not from around these parts.

I have a few dogs of my own.

Tony’s mind raced, gears churning at top speed. His captor grinned at him when he saw Tony click all the pieces together.

“And we have a winner.”

Well shit.

So much for keeping his cool. Tony felt his heart rate skyrocket, blood chilling in his veins.

He’s The Captain?

This was not good. This was so not good.

There were theories of course, of what The Captain would look like. Most followed the typical Hollywoodesque belief that he was some version of the Godfather, sitting in a dark room with a cigar, commanding his forces with a flick of his wrist.  There were even some that even thought that The Captain was not one person, but a whole network of people with eyes and ears everywhere.

The blonde Adonis in front of him was definitely not what Tony was expecting.

Of course, in the end it didn’t matter.

There was a reason no one knew what The Captain looked like.

Because anyone who saw his face never lived to tell the tale.

Chapter Text

This was bad.

This was very bad.

Tony always knew he wouldn’t make it to an old age. While Tony had never made a full on commitment to any mob, he had done a few ‘consultations’ here and there. The whole, ‘I scratch your back if your scratch mine’ kind of deal. Tony makes a few improvements on weapons or even gives away a few whispers of information in exchange for street protection for him and his people.

Tony picks and chooses the mobs he deals with, which of course always lands him some enemies. Tony only deals with the mobs that still have scraps of humanity, like Xavier’s people, Danvers, and sometimes even Quill’s crew. He picks them based on trust, which of course, seems ridiculous when dealing with a mob, but apparently trust is a very big deal with these people. Getting the Tony Stark seal of approval was a huge advantage.

Of course, Tony may be a sick bastard, but he’s not insane. He never deals with the mobs like Hammer or the Ten Rings. If those criminals ever got their hands on Tony’s tech, it would be bad news for a lot of people. Which is now he ended up becoming ‘Most Likely to Be Kidnapped’.

But being caught by The Captain?

Tony could only assume that he wanted his weapons, or maybe even his information. Sure, The Captain and his Commandos had done the city a service by getting rid of Schmidt’s people, but Tony wasn’t about to throw the man a parade.

The whole monopoly situation he has going on in Brooklyn can be seen as a potential threat. How long before The Captain decides that Brooklyn isn’t big enough, and stretches his reach farther? Into Queens, hell, maybe even Manhattan? The last thing Tony needs is to be responsible for handing over his precious tech to what looked like a crazed super soldier.

“Are you ready to listen now?” The Captain asked with a slight tilt of his head.

“No, not really. Whatever you’re selling, Boy Scout, I’m not buying.”

The Captain sighed. “Mr. Stark, be reasonable- ”

“Says the man who dragged me all the way out to this hellhole to ask a question he already knows the answer too.”

“You have no idea what I- ”

“Uhh, yes. Yes, I do. And unfortunately for you, I am almost a law abiding citizen, which means I don’t do any underage dealing. Sorry kid, you must be twenty-one years or older to- ”

Tony was cut off by a swift punch to his gut followed by a gun pressed to his temple.

“Don’t test me,” hissed The Captain.

Tony groaned. That man could pack a punch. Still, he wasn’t getting off that easy. “So, it’s true what they say. You do have a temper. Let me be the first to tell you that flustered looks good on you,” he said with a wink.

“I would hold my tongue if I were you.”

Tony scoffed. “Or what, you’re gonna kill me? Please. If you wanted me dead, all you had to do was snap your fingers. You wouldn’t go through all this trouble.”

“What’s not to say I wanted to be the one to take your life,” shrugged the Captain.

“Because you can’t shoot a gun with the safety on.”

The Captain stared at Tony, and for a few tense moments Tony thought he was done for. But with a flash, The Captain’s cool demeanor returned and he brought his gun down, tucking it back in the hem of his pants.

Tony smirked. Hook, line and sinker.

“So tell me, why does The Captain want to meet with me?” Tony watched as the blonde rubbed a hand through his hair, before sitting back down in front of Tony.

“It can’t be for weapons; you wouldn’t have made it very far it you didn’t have a steady dealer. Maybe you need information. What, Romanoff not bringing home the bacon? Or is Barnes just not pulling his weight anymore?”

Tony couldn’t help the laugh that escaped as he saw The Captain’s eyes widen fractionally. He might not know the everything about The Commandos, but he was still Tony Stark. The Captain was not the only dangerous man in the room. “Uh oh. I wasn’t supposed to know about them, was I? You forget Captain; your crew is not as secretive as you are. You’re not the only one with eyes everywhere.”

When he was met with even more silence, Tony continued. “Nothing to say? You were all about talking just a minute ago. Unless of course- ”

Tony froze when realization hit. There was no reason for The Captain to take any interest in him, because he didn't have anything to offer. The Commandos have had a steady stream of weapons come in for years. Tony was never able to confirm which arms dealer they were working with. If that had fallen through that The Captain was in the market for new digs, Tony had a feeling he was the type of man that would raid Tony's shipping warehouses before snatching the CEO and asking for permission. It shouldn't be for information either. Even if The Captain was looking into someone in Manhattan, Tony had heard more than enough about his fearsome crew to prove that he didn't need any help in that regard. He had once heard that Romanoff broke a man only using a single nail file. So, unless The Captain has gone rogue and left his team in the dust, it shouldn't be either of those things, and no reason for Tony to be wasting away in some basement. 

Unless it was a little above their pay grade. The Commandos might have weapons and secrets, but Tony still had more. And that was because of wealth. Money can go a long way in this type of business, and Tony was more than thriving. 

The Captain was here for a loan. 

“You need me.”

The Captain glared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

Tony laughed again, relishing in the way it bounced off the walls of the small room. “You need me. You need me for something. I deal with two things: information and tech. Up until now, you’ve managed to get both just fine without me. But something’s changed, hasn’t it? Something’s different now; you can’t handle it, and now you’ve had to come all this way because you need me.”

Tony broke off with one final laugh. By the look on The Captain’s face, Tony knew he was spot on. “Am I right, or am I right?”

The Captain rolled his eyes. “What I need, is for you to stop talking.”

“Oh, wow. Very original- ”

A punch along Tony’s jaw sent him reeling. The Captain grabbed him by the lapels of his suit and dragged Tony close to his face. “This is bigger than you, than me. And it needs to be dealt with.” The Captain pushed Tony away, the metal chair he was tied to rocking unsteadily from the force.

This time it was Tony who eyed The Captain.

“You’re worried.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I can see it in your face. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Tony’s mind was in overdrive. It was one thing to be in a one-on-one with The Captain, but this was something else entirely. The Captain doesn’t get nervous; he’s one of the most powerful mob bosses in New York. He doesn’t get nervous. He shouldn’t be nervous. Whatever’s happening cannot be good.  

The Captain huffed out a breath. “We’ve heard a few rumors. Not a lot, just a tip here and there, but it was enough to… catch my curiosity.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Rumors about what?”

“HYDRA.”

Tony stared back at the blonde, looking for any sort of tells that the man was lying. “HYDRA’s gone. You got rid of them. Quite tastefully, I might add. I don’t usually leave a review but you get a full five stars from me.”

Tony picked up on a hint of a smile from The Captain. “It’s always nice to meet a fan.”

Tony scoffed, but added a quiet, “You did get rid of them, right?”

HYDRA was bad news. Part of the reason The Captain was not on the Most Wanted list was because he managed to take the mob out, making a lot of people happy. Schmidt and his thugs had run rampant for years; their control of Brooklyn was both astounding and horrifying. Killing of innocents, maimings, disastrous fires, you name it. When The Captain came along, it was a blessing.

“We did,” the blonde confirmed.

“But.”

“But.”

“You heard rumors that they're back in Brooklyn,” Tony pushed. 

“I heard that they were back. But in Manhattan.”

Tony gaped at the man. “Manhattan.”

The Captain ran his hand through his hair again. It must be a nervous habit. “I’m just telling you what I’ve heard. There are whispers going around that they’re not all gone and that they’re hiding out in the city.”

“And what, you need me to find them?”

“I need you to tell me that I’m wrong. I need you to make sure that HYDRA didn’t survive.”

“By using my sources?” By using my money. 

“I know you have contacts with some of the other mobs in the city. If HYDRA is hiding out with one of them, you can find out and- ”

“Yeah, I’m gonna say no on this one.”

“I’m sorry?” The Captain blanched. 

“The answer’s no, buddy. If you think for one second that I’m sticking my neck out for what seems to be your own problem, then you’ve got another thing coming.”

The Captain’s eyes hardened. “Maybe I wasn’t asking.”

Tony groaned dramatically. “What are you gonna do, make me? We’ve already established you won’t shoot me. I don’t think you understand what you’re asking me to do.”

“It seems pretty clear to me.”

“Listen. This isn’t Brooklyn. There isn’t just one mob you have to worry about. This is Manhattan. They’re everywhere. You should stop while you’re ahead, before you get too deep. Quit poking around the different groups here, because every friend you make in this city will give you three more enemies. There is no way I’m going to get myself involved over something like this just based on your paranoia. You know what they say; curiosity killed the cat.”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” retorted The Captain. “I need to make sure me and my people are safe. And if the rumors are true, then we won’t be the only ones in danger.”

“Yeah, the answer is still no. Rumors aren’t always true.”

“Well it seems the rumors about you were right. You’re nothing but an egotistical narcissist.”

Tony shrugged. “That may be true; I’m a loose cannon, but I’m one of the most dangerous people you’ll ever meet, so you should watch your tone.”

“Oh yeah, they warned me about you,” The Captain snorted sarcastically. "Is that why you went down like a sack of potatoes when I snatched you from the street?" 

“You're cute, but you're stupid," Tony hissed. "You want to know what else they should have warned you about?” Tony whispered, getting the blonde to lean in towards him.

“What’s that?”

“When you snatch an engineer from the street, make sure you can always see their hands.”

With that, Tony thrust his head forward, catching The Captain off guard with a strong head butt. The huge man fell backwards, tipping over the chair he had been sitting in. Wobbling forward, Tony didn’t hesitate to bring his hands around in front of him, freed minutes ago by his deft fingers. Taking The Captain’s surprise to his advantage, Tony hopped up, jumping over him to the door, bringing his iron chair with him. The blonde tried to grab his ankles, but a well-timed kick to The Captain’s groin had the man doubling over in pain.

Tony swung the door open, quickly bringing him and his chair to the other side. He could see The Captain pushing himself up to chase him, but Tony hastily slammed the door shut, jamming his chair under the doorknob to prevent his captor from opening it.

Tony laughed as he took off down the hallway, listening to the pounds and shouts of The Captain trapped in the other room.

The Captain ain’t got nothing on iron.

Continuing down the hall, Tony found that he was in some abandoned warehouse; very easy to maneuver.

How cliché, Captain.

Tony bounded up the steps to the main floor and out the nearest door. He couldn’t pick up on any familiarities, but was that? Yep. The Captain had been so nice as to leave the car he took Tony from out front. A model citizen, really.

He didn’t have the keys anymore, but Tony had all his cars coded to him anyway. His brain had more important things to worry about that where he last put his car keys. Tony started up the car and began pulling away when he saw The Captain tear out of the building after him.

Tony pulled up alongside him. “Don’t test me,” he said with a smirk.

And with that, Tony veered away, racing out of the warehouse lot and onto the road, leaving The Captain and his problems in the dust.

Chapter Text

This was bad.

This was very bad.

Steve Rogers stared down the road, Tony Stark and his ride long gone.

What the hell just happened?

He groaned, rubbing a hand across his forehead. Turns out there was much more to Tony Stark than meets the eye.

Steve had no one to blame but himself, really. He knew how dangerous Stark was, but Steve being Steve, had rushed in head first with dripping confidence that The Captain could take on one measly business man. 

How wrong he was.

Now, because of his stupidity, Tony Stark was on his merry way back to the city, knowing way more than he ever should have. Including the knowledge of what Steve looked like.

Dammit.

Steve sighed before slowly starting to trudge down the road. He could call for a ride, but given his current predicament, he opted against it.

Bucky was going to kill him.

The benefit of having his identify unknown was that when he did actually make an appearance, it usually scares the living daylights out of whomever they were dealing with at the time. Steve puts in a few threats here and a few glares there, and boom: Steve gets everything and anything he wants from them.

His meeting with Stark was anything but normal. If anything, Stark had managed to get more of a rise out of him. And now that Stark knew what he looked like? Steve was in big trouble. Of course, Steve could just call it in and have Stark dead by dinner time, but that wouldn’t solve anything.

Stark was right; Steve needed him.

These HYDRA rumors were putting him on edge. The first couple times he had heard them, it was during their ‘interrogations’. Steve had never paid any mind to it; people would say anything if it meant getting out of a session with Natasha.

But it kept happening. Just whispers, warnings to The Captain and The Commandos. HYDRA was coming back for them. Steve never blinked an eye. Until last week.

Steve walked down the long stretch of hallway, his footsteps echoing loudly.

He reached his destination, smiling easily at his right hand man who was sitting quietly, cleaning his gun.

“You called?”

Bucky’s eyes shot up, returning Steve’s smile with a smirk of his own. “Yeah. Some punk wants to meet with you.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Since when do we hand out last rights to people? You gettin’ soft on me, Buck?” he asked mockingly, earning him a quick jab to his gut.

“If anyone is getting soft, it’s you. You might wanna lay of the burgers, big man,” Bucky retorted, patting Steve’s stomach one more time.

Steve huffed out a laugh, pushing Bucky off his chair. “Shouldn’t you be out scouting for our next deal?” He watched in amusement as Bucky pushed himself up with a small groan, wiping the dirt from his shirt.

“Yes, mom. I’ll take care of it later.”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine! Jesus, I’ll go now.”

“Thank you, dear,” Steve replied with a smirk.

“Don’t push it.” Bucky reached down and grabbed his gun before waltzing down the hallway. “Nat’s in there waiting with our latest guest. Try not to make too much of a mess this time!” Bucky added, before disappearing completely.

Steve turned around and opened the door, his traces of amusement wiped away by a cold stare. He walked into the room, giving a small nod to Natasha before focusing on his newest house guest.

“Officer Sitwell, I presume.”

The man’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with fear. Well, as wide as they could get given the current situation of his face. He was strapped down in a chair, wrists tied to the arm rests, ankles held tight against the front legs. What remained of his uniform was absolutely wrecked, torn to shreds and every inch covered in blood. The red stains matched nicely with dark bruises covering his ashen skin.

Natasha does some beautiful work.

“Are-are you?” Sitwell tried to stammer out, but Steve held up a hand.

“I am. And I must say, it's a pleasure to finally meet you,” Steve replied evenly.

Sitwell elicited a hoarse laugh. “You have a lot of nerve messing with the police for- ”

“Save it,” Steve cut in. “You and I both know that I don’t mess New York’s Finest. I only deal with criminals. Which is why you, Officer Sitwell, are joining us today.”

Sitwell narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve rolled his eyes before sticking an open hand out, which was quickly filled by a file supplied by Natasha. He flipped idly through the pages, humming softly. “That’s quite an impressive amount of drug busts you’ve made over the past couple months, Officer. I can’t help but wonder, however, where all those confiscated goods go. It sure as hell isn’t in storage where it’s supposed to be. Dealing under the table are we? Need some extra cash? And let’s not get started on that incident last month. I mean, really. A hit and run that happened to leave your CI dead? Seems a little too convenient.”

“Yeah, well the poor kid was at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Steve handed the file back to Natasha. “Are you always this bad of a liar? Because it’s doing you no justice here. You’re a crooked cop, Sitwell. You need to be taken care of.”

Sitwell lurched back against his chair. “You can’t be serious! Like you don’t have your own informants running around the NYPD. I don’t see them getting- ”

Sitwell was cut off by a fist crashing into his jaw, the force tipping the chair and sending him to the ground. He barely had time to groan before Steve pulled him upright, his blue eyes boring into Sitwell’s. “Your dirty police work has cost this city money, time, and even lives. You can’t be allowed to continue. Good day, Officer.”

Steve backed away, giving another small nod to Natasha. He made his way back towards the door before Sitwell called out.

“Wait! Listen, I can help you! You need information? I can get you anything- no, everything you need!”

Steve sighed, not even faltering in his steps. Same old sob story. “Sorry, you don’t have anything I want.”

“I can tell you about HYDRA!”

Steve froze. It was one thing if some random criminal mentioned HYDRA, but a police officer? Steve turned back to face Sitwell. “What do you know about HYDRA?”

Sitwell laughed again. “I thought I didn’t have anything you want?"

“I don’t have time for this,” replied Steve, his hands balling into fists. 

Sitwell started to reply, but was stopped by Natasha pulling her gun out. Without a moment’s hesitation, she shot a bullet off into Sitwell's right kneecap, the small room quickly filled with the man's screams.

Steve waited until Sitwell gained some control, silently relishing in the new sheen of sweat collecting on his brow. “Tasha, you shouldn’t waste bullets on scum like him,” he chided.

She gave a short hum. “You’re right, Cap. After all, ammo is so hard to come across nowadays,”  she drawled. She flipped out a pocket knife and proceeded to dig the bullet out of Sitwell’s leg. Sitwell howled, tugging at his bonds, but to no avail. When Natasha finally pulled out the spent bullet, she looked back up at Sitwell. “I’ll go clean this off; hold this for me, will you?” With that she plunged her knife into Sitwell’s open palm.

“Okay! Okay, please, PLEASE! I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you everything! Just stop, please,” Sitwell managed to croak out.

Steve bent down again, watching as Sitwell’s whole body trembled. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” When he didn’t get an answer, he continued. “What do you know about HYDRA?”

Sitwell took a couple of deep breaths. “They’re back. I don’t know how many, but they’re still out there.”

Steve gave a huff of annoyance. “I’ve already heard this. Don’t be a disappointment,” he added, before pulling out his own gun.

“Wait, wait, wait! That’s not all. HYDRA’s getting in with another mob.”

Natasha furrowed her brow. “There isn’t another mob in Brooklyn. We would have heard about it.”

Sitwell shook his head. “I never said Brooklyn. They’re in Manhattan.”

Steve took a step back. “Why?”

“I-I don’t know! It doesn’t matter anyway; they’re going to kill me for telling you.”

“Have you seen them? Do you know who they are?” Natasha asked.

But Sitwell didn’t answer, babbling nonsense under his breath.

Steve grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him close. “Where are they? How did they survive?!”

Sitwell looked up at him. “They will always survive. Cut off one head and two more shall take its place.”

Steve saw red, not even hesitating to put a bullet between Sitwell’s eyes, watching as the chair tipped back and hit the ground with a final thud.

“What the hell, Steve,” Natasha hissed, glaring over at Sitwell’s body. “We could have gotten more from him.”

Steve looked down at the gun in his hands. “Schmidt.”

“What?”

“Schmidt. He said that to me before I killed him. There was no one else there; how could Sitwell know that?”

Natasha’s eyes widened. “You don’t think that HYDRA is actually still out there, do you?”

A familiar chill started to seep into his bones. The threat of HYDRA looming over New York was a plague that they hadn't seen in years. As well they shouldn't have. They were all dead. They had to be. Their last encounters were housed in the deepest caverns of his nightmares. So much death. 

“That was the fifth time someone has brought them up. We need to look into this,” he answered hollowly. 

Natasha nodded. “Okay. I’ll start canvasing, and- ”

“No,” Steve cut her off. So much death. “I don’t want any of our people looking into it just yet. It’s not safe. I’ll get some outside help.”

“You sure?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, I’ll find someone.”

Which is how Steve found Tony Stark.

And hadn’t that gone just swimmingly?

Thank God he wasn’t too far away from their main hideout.

Steve walked through a few back alleys, checking his surroundings as he finally reached base. He tapped his knuckles against the door, waving slightly to the camera that aimed towards his face.  The door swung open, revealing a smirking Clint Barton.

“Where the hell have you been, man?”

He ignored Clint’s question, pushing past him. “Grab everyone who’s around. We need to talk.”

Clint’s expression hardened, nodding quickly before scampering off to find the rest of his team.

Steve walked into the kitchen before plopping down in the nearest chair, pushing his head into his hands.

“You look like shit. Who’d we accidently kill today?” Bucky’s amused voice trailed in to the kitchen.

Steve looked up to see the brunette smirking down at him in the entrance way, before followed by Natasha and Clint. Steve glanced at Clint. “That everyone?”

Clint nodded. “Everyone else is working.”

Steve sighed. “Okay. We may have a problem.”

“Is this about HYDRA? Did you hear anything else? I thought you were going to find an outside source,” alleged Natasha.

“I did find one. That’s the problem.”

“Who did you meet with?” asked Bucky.

“Tony Stark.”

Clint choked on his coffee. “I’m sorry, did you say Tony Stark? The Tony Stark? Do you have a fucking death wish?”

Steve rubbed his hands over his face. “I thought I could handle it.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No, I asked him to help. He’s good; I thought if anyone could find HYDRA, it would be him.”

“You want to know why he’s so good?” Clint nearly shouted.  “It’s because he’s on the good side of over half the mobs in Manhattan. You’re playing with fire, Steve. He’s too dangerous.”

Natasha shushed him. “Is he going to help?”

Steve shook his head. “He refused. And then,” Steve broke off with another sigh.

“And then, what?” goaded Bucky.

“And then he escaped.”

Silence echoed throughout the room. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” asked Clint.

“I said that he got the jump on me, and managed to escape.”

Steve finally looked up to be met with three dumbstruck faces.

“He got away.”

“Yep.”

“He saw your face.”

“Yep.”

“He knows who you are.”

“Yep.”

“He knows about HYDRA.”

“Yep.”

“You fucking idiot.” Steve tried to respond again, but Bucky cut him off. “What the hell were you thinking, Steve? Your face is probably going to be plastered all over the news by tomorrow!”

“Bucky, I- ”

“No. We’ll handle this. Come on, Barton; grab the rifle.”

“Wait, don’t kill him! We could still use him.”

“You cannot be serious, Steve.” Bucky deadpanned.

“Listen, he never hinted once that he would turn me in. I don’t think he’s gonna do it. If you go back over there and provoke him, he’ll turn on us.”

“You’re gonna trust that asshole?!”

“Steve’s right,” interjected Natasha. “Stark has made his living through information. He won’t turn Steve in. Having that knowledge on his side is perfect for leverage.”

Somehow knowing that he was now another puppet on Stark's strings had the blonde shuddering. The man was already dangerous, but after today, Steve could consider him as lethal. 

Bucky groaned, before sitting down next to Steve. “Well, how the hell are we gonna get out of this?”

“I’ll find a way to deal with Stark,” replied Steve. I have too, for everyone's sake. “Until then, we still have to worry about HYDRA. I hate to ask, but Clint?”

“No. You said it was too dangerous. You said you didn’t want our people involved in this.”

Steve's chest lurched at Clint's tone. He didn't want to ask; he'd promised Clint when he'd first learned about them that he'd stay out of it. But this was above them all. HYDRA was above them all. 

So much death. 

“Clint, I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t serious. When I mentioned them to Stark, even he seemed worried. All I need you to do is ask if he’s heard anything.”

Clint heaved a sigh. “Fine. But that’s it. I don’t want him caught up in this.”

“You have my word.”

Clint paced behind an abandoned factory, humming a broken tune.

“Hands in the air!”

Clint couldn’t help but smile, raising his hands slowly before turning around to meet a familiar face. “What seems to be the problem, Officer?”

“I got a call about some suspicious activity. That wouldn’t have anything to do with you, now would it?”

“Me, suspicious? I’m just you’re average, law abiding citizen,” Clint replied with a smirk.

Kind eyes crinkled in amusement. “I’m sure you are.”

Clint let out a small chuckle before grabbing the officer, pulling him into a slow kiss. He pulled away reluctantly, smiling when he felt strong arms wrap around him.

“Clint.”

“Phil.”

“Is something wrong? You usually don’t call during work.”

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you in your uniform,” Clint quipped.

Phil rolled his eyes. “You are insatiable.”

“What can I say? With a hot piece of ass like you as a boyfriend, you can’t expect me to behave.”

Phil huffed before pulling Clint into another kiss. “What’s wrong?” he pressed again. 

“The Boss Man has a question for you.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve been hearing some rumors. About HYDRA.”

Clint felt Phil stiffen in his arms. “HYDRA? I thought that- ”

Clint ran his hands down Phil's arms, trying to soothe the man. If HYDRA was back, like hell he would let them reach Phil. “I know, it doesn’t make any sense. There have been whispers. Hell, even Sitwell mentioned it. Cap just wants to know if you’ve heard anything around the precinct.”

Phil shook his head. “I haven’t, but I’ll keep my ears open, see what I find.”

Clint gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

Phil pushed his face into Clint’s neck. “They’re still looking for Sitwell.”

“They won’t find him.”

Good riddance. 

“Clint, you didn’t- ”

“Phil. He was a dirty cop. He needed to go.”

Phil pulled back to look up at Clint. “If we’re getting technical, I’m pretty sure I’m a dirty cop too.”

“No. You do what you do to keep people safe. He had people killed, Phil. You saw what happened to that CI! I wasn’t about to risk that happening to you.”

“You know, that’s kind of sweet, in a really twisted way.”

Clint shrugged. “What can I say, I’m a hopeless romantic.”

Phil gave Clint one last peck before pulling away. “I should go before someone gets suspicious. You know how Fury gets.”

“Your boss is a lunatic. When are you gonna come work with me?”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Maybe one day. Alright, I’m off. I’ll start to dig around for HYDRA, let you know if I hear anything.” He gave a small salute before walking back towards his squad car.

“Stay safe,” whispered Clint. After waiting for Phil to take off, he trekked slowly back to base.

Chapter Text

A man came tearing through two steel doors, panting loudly as he sprinted down the hallway. He ignored the looks of the armed guards, focusing only on the entrance to the back office.

“Hey, you can’t- ”

The man pushed the last guard away and thrust the office door open.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

The man stared into the office, met with a pair of hard glances, one with anger, the other with confusion.

“Rumlow, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Rumlow tried to catch his breath while simultaneously trying to make himself more presentable in front of his boss. “Sir, you’re not going to believe what I just saw.”

His boss, sitting across the desk narrowed his eyes. However, the other man in the room began to protest. “Well, whatever it was, it can wait,” he snapped. “Pierce, you need to get a better handle on- ”

“Enough,” Pierce cut the man off. He gestured to Rumlow. “Go on.”

Rumlow took a deep breath. “You know how you asked me to keep an eye on him, Sir? The Captain? Well I have, and believe me Sir, I’m doing my very best, and- ”

“Spit it out, Rumlow. I don’t have all day.”

“Right, of course. Sorry, Sir. Well, it’s just that I saw him. Today.”

Pierce rolled his eyes. “If that’s what you came in here to tell me, I swear to God, Rumlow, I’ll be the one to put a bullet in your brain.”

“Wait, wait! Let me finish. I’m telling you that I saw him. Here.”

“Here?”

“In Manhattan, Sir.”

Rumlow saw Pierce freeze. Told you it was worth it, old man, he wanted to yell at his hardened employer. “In Manhattan? What the hell was he doing here?” Pierce looked back at the other man. “Surely he couldn’t have caught wind of our plans.”

Rumlow shook his head. “No. Or at least, I don’t think so. He was here for something else.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I saw The Captain take off with Tony Stark.”

The other man whipped around in his chair. “Tony Stark. The Tony Stark.”

Rumlow nodded. He watched as the other man got up and started to pace around the office while Pierce put his face in his hands.

“He’s talking with Stark. That cannot mean good things,” Pierce stated.

“You don’t think I know that?” the other man hissed. “If The Captain hasn’t gotten a hold of our plans yet, how long before he gets them with Stark on his ally list?!”

“Why are you looking at me?" Pierce shouted back at him. "If you had ever done your job correctly, Stark would have been finished off years ago.”

“Stark is an asset. Get him on our side, and- ”

“Well, obviously he’s chosen the other side!”

The two men stared at each other long and hard. Pierce sighed, looking down at his hands. “This needs to be dealt with. Hammer,” he nodded to the other man, “call The Monger. He needs to know about this.” Hammer nodded before rushing out of the office.

“And me, Sir?” Rumlow asked.

“Keep on The Captain. Report to me if anything happens.”

“What about Stark?”

Pierce’s dead stare bored into Rumlow’s. “If you cross paths, kill him.”

“Where the hell have you been?!”

Tony flinched at Pepper’s shrill tone before pressing his face farther onto the bag of frozen peas.

Finding his way back to Manhattan took a little more effort than he thought. After getting back on a main road, Tony found himself somewhere in the backwoods of Brooklyn. Of course, having lived in Manhattan all his life, he had no inclination of which direction he was going. This ended with Tony driving in circles and having to resort to ask some old broad for directions.

But he had managed to eventually find a familiar tower in the skyline, The Captain and his problems slipping farther away.

“Not so loud, Pep.” Tony grabbed the sides of his head, still pounding for his encounter with the Brooklyn madman; he could already feel the bruise blossoming on his cheek.

“Are you hungover? Seriously, Tony? You’ve got a huge business deal in less than an hour, what the hell were you thinking?” Pepper snapped.

“Pep, I’m not- ”

Tony was cut off by Pepper dumping a cup on cold water on him.

“Jesus Christ! I’m not drunk!”

“Oh. Um. Oops?” Pepper gave a small laugh followed by a sharp gasp. “What happened to your face?!”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Tony groaned.

“Come on, let me see.” Tony removed the bag of peas, wincing as he felt Pepper’s dainty fingers skim over the tender skin. “Happy has been looking everywhere for you. We couldn’t locate you through the tracker, so I just assumed you turned it off to go on a bender.”

“Your faith in me is astounding,” Tony grumbled. He made a mental note to talk to Happy later about adding more trackers. One's that couldn't be found by blue-eyed mob men. 

“Well, come on,” Pepper continued, blatantly ignoring Tony’s statement. "Tell me. Who’d we piss off this time?” Pepper reached in her handbag, pulling out some concealer and began dabbing it over Tony’s face.

Tony snorted. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Tony started to respond when he was cut off by someone opening the door. “Tony, my boy!”

Tony straightened up immediately, flashing a quick smile to the man that just walked in. “Obie! What are you doing here?”

Obadiah Stane walked over to Tony and squeezed his shoulders. “The business meeting? Tell me you didn’t forget.” Stane gripped the bottom of Tony’s chin, looking questionably at his face.

Tony quickly slipped out of Obie’s grip. “It’s nothing, I promise. And about this meeting. I just thought I’d let you handle it. You’re better with dealing with those bureaucratic asshats anyway.”

Obie rolled his eyes. “Tony. These are military contracts. They don’t take deals like this lightly. They want to see the man who designs their weapons, not the guy who does the paperwork. I already told them you were coming, so I suggest you make yourself presentable,” he finished, frowning down at Tony’s sopping wet suit.

Tony shot another harsh glance at Pepper. “Fine. I’ll be ready in ten.” He started to walk towards his suite, catching Obie grimace down at his phone.

“What did you say you did today, Tony?”

Tony looked back to Obie. “I didn’t.” Catching his business partner raise an eyebrow, Tony sighed. “Boxing lesson with Happy. Didn’t end well for me,” Tony said as he gestured to his face.

Obie nodded, but didn’t say anything in return, watching as Tony retreated to his room to change for the meeting.

The meeting of course, went spectacularly.

Tony’s newest shipment of arms should keep the military boys happy for a while. It was ingenious, honestly. The law couldn’t touch him. No one in their right mind would have the balls to go after Tony Stark. Not when he was one of the military’s main weapons contractor. They needed him.

Tony snorted. A lot of people seem to need him these days.

Although the meeting had ended, Tony had to entertain the commanding officers while Stane finalized the paperwork. Tony threw in a few fake smiles as he circled the room, nursing a scotch.

“Mr. Stark. That was quite a demonstration today.”

“Why, thank you,” Tony said as he spun around. “You know, nothing but the best for my- oh fuck.”

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Turning completely, Tony was met with a pair of familiar steely blue eyes along with a small smirk, the man completely as ease in full military dress.

The Captain.

And of course he looks even better in a uniform. I should’ve guessed.

Tony’s eyes roamed all over the uniform, letting out a hollow laugh when he saw his rank. “What can I do for you… Captain?”

The Captain smiled widely. “I’d like to finish our conversation.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t have anything more to say on the matter.” Tony started to walk away, but The Captain grabbed his arm in a tight grip.

“I’m not nearly finished.”

Tony pulled away. “You know, last time you laid hands on me, it didn’t end well for you. How’s your head?”

“How’s your face?” The Captain retorted.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Listen, asshole. I have nothing else to say to you. I don’t want any part of your superstitions.” Tony gestured across the room to Happy, and then pointed to the door. His bodyguard nodded, getting ready to start the car.

The Captain stepped in front of him. “HYDRA is not a superstition; it is real and it is a problem. I need- ”

“What you need is to get out of my way before I stop playing nice and expose you to everyone in this room.”

The Captain laughed. “If you were going to do that, you would have done it already. Besides, my bullets are faster than your words.”

Tony huffed before stepping around The Captain and out the door. He saw Happy waiting outside with his car, ready to hand him his keys.

“Mr. Stark. You really should reconsider- ”

“Why?” Tony snapped, glaring back at The Captain. “Even if HYDRA is still out there, why is that my issue? They never made a move against me once. You, on the other hand, are in big trouble. This is your problem, not mine.”

Tony stomped away towards his car, before The Captain pulled him back again. “I already told you, they’re not in Brooklyn. They’re in Manhattan. Which makes it your problem. If HYDRA is still out there, it could be devastating, for both you and me. Listen, I want to deal with you just as much as you want to deal with me, but I am running out of options.” The Captain’s blue eyes stared at him earnestly, basically screaming 'I'm telling the truth! Believe me!"

No. Don’t get involved.

Tony shook out of his grip. “Sorry, Cap. I’m not your guy.”

He turned around for the final time, walking back towards-

BOOM!

Tony felt himself getting thrust back, a huge force knocking him off his feet. A searing heat wave washed over him, Tony quickly covering his face when he felt debris land around him. Ears ringing and head pounding, Tony felt someone grab at his suit, pulling him back up.

Tony cracked his eyes open, seeing The Captain looking at him, his face covered with dirt and grime along with a small cut on his cheek.

Looking past The Captain, Tony looked at his car.

A bomb.

What remained of his car looked more like an empty steel shell, covered with remains of melted plastic and bright flames. Right to the left Tony could see the still form of Happy.

God, is he dead?

Tony couldn’t catch his breath. He could hear people shouting from inside the building but nothing comprehend. He looked into the flames again, eyes getting impossibly wider.

That was supposed to be me.

Tony came back to himself when he felt someone pulling at his suit. He turned to face The Captain once more.

“Now do you believe me?” he whispered.  

Chapter Text

Tony tore his gaze back to his car. What remained of it, anyway. The charred and melted shell of his vehicle stained the once clear street. A small fire still blazed within it, the smoke emitted reaching high into the sky.

His head was pounding, overwhelmed by the sound of the blast, accompanied by the screams of people around him. His body throbbed in pain, the threat of dark bruises already presenting itself. The blast had been big; even at the distance Tony was at was enough to do some damage.

Mere seconds.

Just a small spark, accompanied after by a few kilojoules of force and heat.

That's all it took for Tony Stark's world to be turned upside down.

The Captain was right. He had to be.

Sure, Tony had enemies, but no one had ever done this. No one had ever dared too. They knew who Tony was, what he would do if they tried to attack him. No one would be crazy enough to do it.

Unless.

HYDRA.

This can't be happening.

No; there still was a chance that The Captain was wrong. Wasn't there?

But none of that mattered now. Tony glanced back over to the wreck.

Happy.

He needed to get to Happy; he needed to help. He had been standing next to the car when the blast happened.

Please don't be dead, please don't be dead.

Ignoring the sharp pains coursing around his body, Tony forced himself to stand. He tried to make his way over to Happy, only to have a sharp tug force him back. Tony barely had time to shout his disapproval before he was thrown over a broad shoulder like a rag doll.

The Captain took off down the street, moving at an unreal pace. He flew through the back alleys, seemingly unfazed by Tony's struggling. He finally stopped when he reached aged building, a business long forgotten about. Kicking down the door easily, The Captain moved quickly inside, moving through the tight hallway and to the main floor. Apparently pleased with his surroundings, he deposited Tony roughly on the floor.

"What the hell was that?!" Tony groaned, shifting around to feel for anything broken. 

"You're welcome."

"Excuse me?" Tony scoffed.

The Captain rolled his eyes. "HYDRA probably had someone planted there ready to take action if the bomb didn't kill you. We should be safe here. For now."

Tony groaned, pushing himself to his feet. "There you go, blabbing on about HYDRA again."

The Captain narrowed his eyes. "You can't seriously still be denying it."

He couldn't, not really. But the shock of an attack in broad daylight, let alone an attack had all, had Tony's hackles rising. The thought of The Captain being right and Tony brushing him off did not sit well with him. He didn't like to be wront; he was never wrong. But here he was on the floor of another dirty warehouse, a bombed out car, and an injured bodyguard. Please don't be dead. 

"That could have been anyone," Tony babbled, mostly to comfort himself.  "A lot of people would like to see me dead."

"But no one has made a move on you before. I'm telling you; its HYDRA."

"HYDRA was never a threat to me!"

"Well, it seems they are now!"

Tony sighed, looking around the room. What would HYDRA gain from going after him? He never got in there way. They shouldn't even be on the same radar. They shouldn't see him as an enemy.

Unless they thought he was.

Oh, God. This isn't good.

Tony flared his nostrils before looking back at The Captain.

"Your cheek." Tony pointed at his face, looking at the sluggish trail of blood that was slipping down.

The Captain shook his head. "It's nothing. It doesn't even hurt."

"Oh, it doesn't hurt? Well in that case- " Tony reeled back and landed a right hook straight over the wound. The Captain went crashing to the ground.

"What the hell," he hissed, cupping the irritated flesh.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It hurts now doesn't it, Princess? Good." He pushed forward, aiming a sharp kick to The Captain's gut. At least he tried to. He had to hand it to the guy, he had great reflexes.

The Captain caught his foot mid swing, easily using the momentum to flip Tony over and onto the ground next to him. With the air knocked out of him, Tony had no time to recover before The Captain was back on his feet and dragging Tony along with him. He grabbed fistfuls of Tony's shirt, pulled him up like he was a sack of flour, and forced him against the wall.

"You know, you're really starting to piss me off."

Tony blinked at him. "Well, if it's taken this long, I obviously haven't been trying hard enough."

The Captain huffed, but tightened his hold on Tony's suit. "Now you listen to- "

"No. You listen to me," Tony cut him off. "Do you realize what you've just done?"

"Yeah, I saved your life, you ungrateful ass."

Tony gave a hollow laugh. "Quite the opposite, you idiot. You've killed me."

"I'm not following."

"Why am I not surprised? Sure, you might be right. HYDRA is probably still out there. But what you've forgotten is that I didn't care the first time they were around, and I sure didn't want to care now. It was never my problem! But you've just made it my problem." Tony broke off, thinking of Happy's still form. The Captain just stared back at him. "What, nothing to say? HYDRA never once came after me, but now all of a sudden they're attacking me and my people. And why is that? Maybe because some fucking airhead decided that I could help dismantle them a second time. Someone knew you met with me, Captain. And now they think I'm working with you. They should be after you, but no. I'd be surprised if I last the month. So thanks a lot, fucker, for- " Tony stopped himself, his gaze turning lethal. 

There was only one way HYDRA could have known he met with The Captain. 

"What?" The Captain choked out.

"Did you spill?"

The Captain furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"

"Did. You. Spill." When The Captain didn't answer, Tony fumed. "You did, didn't you? Why, you piece of shit. Who did you blab to? There was no one else around when you met with me; HYDRA shouldn't have known. Unless of course, you went around and ran your mouth all over town. What'd you say? Trying scare tactics? Send HYDRA running to the hills, telling them that I was already working with you?!"

The Captain's eyes widened. "I didn't squeal."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh, bullshit. You just had to make yourself the bigger threat, didn't you?"

The Captain thrust Tony harder against the wall. "I didn't squeal. I don't squeal. You have my word."

Tony laughed. "Your word means jack shit to me."

The Captain finally let his grip lax before pacing away. "Well, what about you? How do I know that you didn't go running to your lackeys about me? How many people know my face now? Maybe I'm the one who won't last the month."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "I haven't said anything."

"I'm sorry to say that your word doesn't mean anything to me either."

"Well, it seems that we're at an impasse."

"So it seems." The Captain's eyes looked almost black in the dim lighting of the dank room, his large body strung tight with tension. "What are you going to do now?"

"I'll do what I always do. I'm a business man, Captain. I'm gonna fake it till I make it; get my way out of this with a deal. In fact," Tony eyed the Captain, "I'm sure HYDRA would get off my tail if I brought them you."

The Captain's jaw tightened. "You wouldn't dare."

"I think I would," Tony sneered.

The Captain gave a small smile. "What makes you think that I won't kill you right here? You got the jump on me once, but I don't make the same mistake twice."

Tony returned the smile easily. "You won't kill me."

"Oh?"

"You may not make the same mistake twice, but that doesn't mean that you didn't make a different one." Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Tracker's built in."

"I don't think Hogan is up for chasing you right now."

"If you think Happy was the only one on guard duty, then you've sorely underestimated me."

The Captain's eyes snapped to the south entrance where a loud bang reverberated through the room, as if it happened on cue, before landing back on Tony. "Oops," the brunette smiled.

The Captain scanned the room, eyeing a small service entrance. "This isn't over," he hissed, already heading towards the door.

"If you say so, dear Captain." Another bang, much closer this time, followed by a muffled 'Tony'!  got The Captain moving faster. "Oh, and Captain?" He spun around to face Tony again. "Happy Hogan was innocent and a good man; he's worth at least ten of your Commandos on their best day. If he dies today because of you, I won't hesitate to return the favor." From the look on The Captain's face, Tony knew he understood.

And with that, The Captain fled.

"Tony!" A final door opened, revealing a very flustered James Rhodes.

Tony smiled. "Rhodey."

The taller man just sighed in response, his expression falling into a familiar one of fond exasperation, one that he usually wore when dealing with Tony.

Tony had met Colonel James Rhodes back in his college days; he was the only one who could handle Tony's shit, as well as fight back with some of his own. Sure, Tony had been a little devastated when Rhodey decided to choose to go to the military instead of coming to work for him. But turned out having an in with the military was always a plus. That and, Tony may or may not have pulled a few strings to make Rhodey the official military liaison for Stark Industries.

So of course Rhodey was at the meeting, winning over the last few skeptical parties for today's deal. He was always better at sweet talking the brass than Tony was. 

Rhodey rushed over and grabbed at Tony. "What the hell are you doing in here? Everyone's been going crazy, man; We all thought you got kidnapped again!"

Tony laughed. "Again? If you think today's incidents constituent as kidnapping, then you've got pretty low standards, buddy."

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "Seriously. You good?" His dark eyes looked all over Tony, scanning for potential injuries.

"Yeah, yeah. We're all good here." Tony looked over at Rhodey carefully. "Happy?"

Rhodey looked solemn. "He's not dead, but it doesn't look good."

Tony closed his eyes. "How bad?"

"Pepper went with him in the ambulance. She called me on my way over. He's stable right now, but he's isn't responding."

Tony shuddered. If The Captain was right, and this was HYDRA? It took them one day to take out one of his own. How long before the rest of them start dropping like flies? Not on my watch. "I need to head over there. Obie?"

"He's fine," Rhodey assured him. "Nobody else was anywhere near the blast radius. You sure you're okay? Nothing like this has ever happened before."

Tony shook his head. "There's a first time for everything."

Rhodey looked around the warehouse. "What are you thinking? Hammer?"

Tony scoffed. "That would imply that Hammer could build a bomb that works."

Rhodey laughed in response. "Yeah, you're right. But this is some serious stuff. I can call my superiors, ask for an extended leave? I'm not sure if- "

"No," Tony cut him off. Unwanted images of Rhodey's prone form bleeding out on the sidewalk filtered through his head. "I don't want you caught in the crossfire."

Rhodey's eyes softened, placing a strong hand on Tony's shoulder. "I can handle it."

"And so can I. Don't worry about it Rhodey, I'll deal with it."

"If you say so. Who are they anyway?"

"No one good, buddy. No one good."

Tony gave one final look around the warehouse before following Rhodey outside. Rhodey hopped in his car, staring the engine to drive to the hospital with Tony.

"Hold on, I need to make a call."

Tony pulled out his slim phone, entering a small code before setting it against his ear.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Wanna do me a favor?"

"For you, Sir? Anything."

Tony smiled softly. "Thanks, buddy." 

"What do you require, Sir?"

Tony sighed. "I need you to look into something."

Chapter Text

Steve Rogers hunkered down in far part of an alley, watching as Tony Stark escaped from him for a second time. His large hands cradled his head that was still pounding from the explosion and the added bonus of Stark's fist.

God dammit.

Steve kicked at a trash can, sending it spinning down the alley. Today was enough to confirm his suspicions about HYDRA, and now everything was already going to shit. Stark never denied his logic about HYDRA, meaning he probably thought Steve was right. No one was stupid enough to attack Tony Stark in broad daylight without a death wish.

Unless they were something that Tony Stark was afraid of.

But Stark was also right. Steve didn't tell anyone but his crew; no one should have known about them meeting.

Steve should have known better. Should have taken bigger precautions with Stark. Now one of his men was down. Steve never meant for that to happen. He just hoped to God that Hogan survived the blast. A threat for Tony Stark was nothing to be trifled with. Steve would have his crew pull back for a few days, just in case. If HYDRA was rising into power again, the last thing he needed was his crew fighting a battle on both sides, trying to hold the line against the nefarious crew and Stark as well. 

Finally standing up, Steve scanned his surroundings. It seemed that Stark had taken off, with no inclination to chase after Steve. Deciding it was safe to move, Steve slowly trekked his way back to the car he drove to Stark's meeting with. He needed to get out of his uniform; attracting unwanted attention was the last thing he needed.

Steve had barely shut the car door before he was tearing back towards Brooklyn. If HYDRA was there today to make a move against Stark, who knew how many other eyes were still watching in the shadows. No one of HYDRA had ever seen his face and survived, but he wasn't taking any chances. If HYDRA was already willing to take on Stark, it probably wouldn't be long before he made a move on his own crew.

By the time Steve had made it back to base, he found himself with an even worse headache. But the peace and quiet he was looking forward too quickly stepped out of reach when he entered through the door. Inside, his crew was bustling.

It wasn't often that Steve had the entire family at base at the same time, due to different jobs and schedules, but it seemed like everyone and their mother was cramped in their small headquarters. Steve was met with respectable nods and smiles to anyone who met his eyes, but no one stopped their movement completely, shoving past and around Steve to continue their duties.

Steve scanned their main room, before locking eyes with Clint. Seeing that his voice wouldn't carry over the boisterous room, he deferred to his hands, thinking back to when he'd learned the other language. 

When Steve had first found Clint Barton, he was trying to rob Bucky.

While his skills would have worked on any unsuspecting citizen, Clint got more than he bargained for by taking on Steve's second in command. The fact that Steve was nearby definitely didn't help Clint's cause either.

What had surprised Steve was the amount of hits Clint got on both him and Bucky. Clint was fast; Steve even found himself struggling to keep up. What shocked Steve even more, was that Clint managed to disable Bucky's trusty knife with a few quick moves, and then move to throw it at Steve's arm, effectively catching his jacket sleeve, stopping Steve's charge. From across the alleyway.

Bucky, of course, moved to help Steve, giving Clint the time to escape down the street.

While Steve had thought that would be the end of it, he found himself face to face with Clint three days later.

Steve was on his way back to base, when he stumbled upon a curled up figure in a back alley. Steve found himself stopping when he recognized a familiar sweatshirt.

"Hey. You."

Nothing.

Steve narrowed his eyes before raising his voice.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Still nothing.

Steve bristled, getting ready to lay one out on the asshole. He reached forward and grabbed the man's shoulder. What Steve didn't expect was the sharp gasp that the man emitted, followed by a terrified gaze.

"Oh, I have your attention now? Listen, you tried robbing my friend a couple days ago. Maybe you don't realize who you decided to mess- " Steve stopped himself when he looked at the scared man.

He was looking at Steve's lips.

"You couldn't hear me," he whispered. "You can't hear me."

The man, still watching Steve's lips, shook his head. "No, not really."

Steve startled at his calm tone. The man rolled his eyes. "I wasn't born deaf, asshole. I know how to speak. Unfortunately, a child's ears can only take so many beatings before they stop working."

Child abuse.

Steve's insides churned, a fire blazing behind his eyes. "I-I'm sorry," he managed to stammer out.

The man rolled his eyes again. "Well, I guess I'm sorry I tried to rob your friend. So there, we're even."

Steve couldn't help but smile. "Pickpocket often?"

The smaller man returned a grin easily. "Gotta pay the bills somehow. Believe it or not, there aren't a lot of opportunities for people of my condition."

And then Steve wasn't seeing the man. He was seeing himself. He saw the frail boy from Brooklyn, unable to land a job to help his mother; his sickly body wearing him down day to day. No one wanted anything to do with a kid who couldn't support his own weight. Just like no one wanted anything to do with a deaf man from a broken home.

Steve could almost hear Bucky in the back of his head, screaming at him to 'stop bringing home strays' as he put it. But Steve had already made up his mind. He wouldn't have made it to where he was today without someone giving him a chance. Who was he to deny anyone else that same chance? 

"How good are your eyes?" he asked, already knowing the answer. He had been thinking about that knife toss all week. 

The man shot him an unimpressed look. "Killer."

Steve grinned. "Good enough for me. You're hired."

"What?"

"You said you needed a job. Well, today's your lucky day."

"I can't imagine how much use I could be with my ears- "

"I'm not hiring you for your ears, I'm hiring you for your eyes. I need you to look into some people for me. Think you can manage? I can pay you anything you see fit."

The man narrowed his eyes. "Isn't this a little shady?"

"What do you have to lose?" Steve retorted. He'd been in this business long enough to pick out the type of men that had no qualms doing the same same type of work. This man was definitely one of them. 

The man sighed. "I guess you're right.," Of course I was, Steve thought to himself. "Fine," the deaf man continued. " Who do you need me to stalk?"

"First things first." He held a strong hand out. "I'm Steve."

The man met his hand with a firm grip. "Clint."

Steve had Clint spy on potential problems all over Brooklyn, which he did with near perfection. Each of his reports to Steve were filled with overwhelming data. And when Steve found out he knew how to handle a weapon? Steve knew he needed this man for the Commandos. Steve will never forget the day Clint pulled out a bow and arrow and hit a bulls-eye at each target at the range. 

Weeks passed; Steve gave Clint more jobs, Clint returning with more information, not even stumbling in his work when he found out more about Steve's background.

It wasn't until Bucky caught him trying to teach himself ASL that Steve finally revealed Clint to the rest of the team.

He was a hit, of course. His Midwestern snark and easy smile were addicting, getting him a permanent spot in the family. It was Bucky who had finally approached Steve about putting Clint in the field, doing more dangerous ops. Before Steve could object, Bucky pulled out two slim hearing aids.

It was a wonder that Steve ever forgot that out of everyone, Bucky was the one who always cared the most. And of course, seeing the look on Clint's face when he could hear clearly for the first time in years made Steve's heart swell. So Clint found himself on the top roster, tagging along with Nat and Bucky, never looking back.

Steve pulled himself out of his head, looking back at Clint. "What the hell?" He signed, gesturing to the mess of people at base.

Clint smirked at Steve. "I could ask the same thing of you," he replied quickly, looking down at Steve's uniform.

Steve rolled his eyes, before gesturing to his office. Clint nodded, but moved in the opposite direction. Probably to find Bucky.

Steve stepped into his office, relishing in the quiet before the door reopened for Clint and Bucky.

"Where the hell did you find that thi- you're bleeding." Bucky stated.

Steve ignored him. "What's going on?"

Clint beamed at Steve. "Nat caught wind of a huge score. Word on the street is that Hammer is trying to drive a huge weapons deal with some other mob. Her sources said that they're still working out the kinks of the deal, so the weapons are just sitting around in some storage facility."

"So?"

Clint pouted. "So we're gonna steal them, Steve!"

Steve pinched his nose with his fingers. "Seems risky."

Bucky huffed. "Come on, Steve. We haven't pulled a job in weeks. People are starting to get antsy! Let us have this one."

"Fine," Steve sighed. "But first, we need to talk about Stark."

Tony rubbed his temple, groaning softly. Seeing Happy hooked up to God knows how many hospital tubes did no favors for him. After triple checking that he would be receiving the best medical care and that Pepper was fine, Tony let himself return home.

He had been ignoring calls from Obie; Tony didn't need to deal with that right now. He needed to deal with this.

He poured himself a generous glass of scotch. "J? What'd you find?"

"As per requested, I searched for CCTV footage in Brooklyn for facial recognition. I was able to track your movements back to inner Brooklyn, but not much father than that."

"What do you mean?"

"I could not pinpoint your exact location of meeting with The Captain because you kept traveling past the last available footage. The Captain picked his spot wisely, Sir."

Tony ignored the last comment. "Pull it up."

A bright screen flashed in front of him, showing Tony pull out from behind a building, and continue off through Brooklyn. "I remember this," Tony mumbled to himself. "The building I came out of wasn't that much farther back." Tony studied the clips before an idea hit him. "J, can you rewind a couple hours? When we first got there?"

JARVIS obliged, playing back the footage, until the car was pulling in to the street, Tony able to make out the fuzzy face of The Captain in the driver's seat. "There," Tony pointed to his face. "Can you get facial recognition off that face?"

"I'll give it the old college try, Sir," JARVIS responded dryly.

Tony rolled his eyes, before staring back at the screen. "Alright. Time to find out who you are, dear Cap- " Tony found himself breaking off when he spotted something else on the cameras.

Another person.

"Someone else was there," he whispered. "J, zoom and enhance."

The man was mostly hidden by the shadows of the buildings, but Tony could still see that his entire focus was on The Captain and the car. "Do a scan on him as well."

"Of course, Sir."

Tony eyed the close up of the mystery man. "Who the hell are you?"

Tony shuddered when the Captain's voice drifted through his head.

"HYDRA."

Chapter Text

"Anything?"

Tony had tried to distract himself in his lab while JARVIS ran facial scans on both The Captain and the mystery man. Usually Tony could lose himself in his work for hours, sometimes even days, but right now he found himself asking JARVIS for an update every few minutes.

"I have made the same amount of progress since the last time you have asked, Sir."

Tony sighed. "JARVIS, if I wanted to just fuck around, I would have asked DUM-E to handle this."   

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I cannot match The Captain to any known male in New York. I have even taken the liberty to extend the search to neighboring states, as well as adding in your additional parameters. The Captain simply does not exist."

"He has to be out there, J. There's no way he was able to wipe himself from the system- unless of course, that person is me. But something tells me that the Captain and I are not on the same educational level."

"Humble as always, Sir."

Tony paced around his lab. "He must have had help; it probably took him years to disappear completely."

"I shall keep trying, Sir."

"What about the other one?"

"Given the poor clarity of the CCTV cameras, the shadows from the building, and the man’s distance from the cameras, I have been unable to construct a complete subject for facial recognition."

Tony sat back down behind a lab table, dropping his head down on top of the cool metal. This was not going as planned.

"So, you're telling me we have nothing."

"Indubitably."

This is ridiculous.

Tony shouldn't have even found himself in this situation. But thanks to a certain self-righteous prick of a mob boss, Tony can't exactly back out now. It didn't matter if it was HYDRA or not. That third man knew Tony met with The Captain. And because of that, he had already resulted to bombs. How long of a time frame did he have before they came back to finish the job? 

Whoever that man is, Tony needed him taken care of. Now.

With a completed scan, Tony could send the face out to Quill or Danvers and have the job finished within the hour. But when is life ever that simple?

Besides, Tony didn't want to involve anyone else in this mess. Getting others caught up in this potential HYDRA mess is a one way ticket to losing allies. Allies that Tony cannot afford to lose.

Tony grinned. Well, it's a good thing he knows someone that would be oh so willing to help.

"J, pull up the CCTV footage again."

JARVIS obliged, showing when The Captain initially pulled up to the warehouse with Tony. "Now fast forward to when I leave." The video changed, showing a laughing Tony drive off.

"Ok, normal speed. Keep playing the footage." Tony watched the cameras minutes after he had already driven off when finally a hulking figure stepped out onto the road. "There. Can we follow him through other cameras?"

"Of course, Sir." JARVIS dutifully followed The Captain, switching cameras every time he fell out of frame. It wasn't long before The Captain slipped out of view completely. "This is the last of the available footage for the area."

Tony hummed. "What kind of buildings are over there?" 

"A few empty shipping warehouses and abandoned factory used back in World War II to melt down scrap metal."

"What a patriot," laughed Tony. Mind made up, he grabbed his keys and sidearm and head to the door. "Don't wait up for me, dear. Daddy's got a little work to do."

"I knew I should’ve gone with you to Stark's meeting. Sounds like it was a blast," smirked Clint.

Steve, who had taken a seat behind his desk, reached for the gun that lay atop it, turning it to aim at Clint. The smile vanished instantly from Barton's face, the man quickly scrambling to take cover behind Bucky.

"See anyone?" asked Bucky.

"No," sighed Steve. "But then again I wasn't looking. And even if I was, I wouldn't even know where to look; I was the one that wasn't supposed to be there."

"And we're sure it was HYDRA?"

"Who else could it be? Anyone who made a move against Stark would basically be on a suicide mission," Clint retorted.

Steve groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “I have no idea. Who knows what Stark will do now that someone has made a- wait,” Steve stopped himself. “Do you hear that?”

Both Bucky and Clint shook their heads, but their bodies seemed to already be filling with tension.

"Exactly." Steve stood up and grabbed his gun, making sure it was loaded. His whole crew was in today; there was no reason for it to be so quiet. Steve checked and made sure that both Bucky and Clint were ready in case he needed back up. Getting a nod from both men, Steve burst from his office, gun raised and ready to -

Oh, fuck.

There, sitting in the middle of the room with the biggest shit-eating grin known to man, was Tony Stark. 

Around him, the rest of his crew had their guns trained on the smirking brunette, but it didn't seem to faze Stark in the least. He simply picked at an invisible spec on his perfectly tailored suit, sighing quietly to himself, like he hadn't a single care in the world. Or that he clearly wasn't threatened even while being surrounded by the entirely of Brooklyn's largest mob. This man is insane, Steve thought to himself. 

"Holy shit," Steve heard Clint whisper behind him.

Steve clenched his jaw. "How the hell did you get in here?" He asked, tightening his grip on his gun. 

"Same way as you," chided Stark. "I used the door."

Steve rolled his eyes, but didn't push further. Tony Stark had unbelievable resources; if he wanted to find The Commandos base, he would with no problem. Hell, Stark was probably about three steps away from finding out Steve's name, if he hadn't already.

"Darling, you should really do something about that cheek. It would be a shame if I caused some permanent damage to that pretty face of yours."

Steve heard Bucky growl behind him, cocking his gun. Steve shot his hand out, with an unspoken 'don't' to his friend. If anything, that caused Stark to grin wider. "That's right, Barnes; a whipped dog like you wouldn't want to upset the Master, would you?"

This time, Steve stepped forward, his hackles rising. Stark was too cocky, and too smart. Steve needed to get him out of here, away from his family. Every minute that Stark sat in here was another minute he was putting them at risk. "You've crossed too many lines today. I tried to be civil, but you're in Brooklyn now; I won't hesitate to kill you if you continue to piss me off," he snarled. 

Stark's chestnut eyes pierced Steve's, but eventually he looked away. "You started it," Stark mumbled.

"And you pushed it with a threat to my crew," retorted Steve. "You can't expect me to be in a very cooperative mood."

Stark waved a hand. "Happy's clinging to life; your crew will live to see another day. For now."  Stark stood up, idly walking around the room, still blatantly ignoring the many guns pointed his direction. He stopped in front of Sam Wilson, glaring down at the younger man.

"Ooh, is that coffee? Thank you," he said as he hastily swiped the hot drink right out of Sam's hand.

"Hey- " Sam tried to protest, but was cut off by Stark swiftly reaching behind him, only to jam a side arm into Sam’s neck.

Everyone in the room tensed, guns cocking all around. Steve's breath caught in his throat; Tony Stark was a loose cannon. One wrong move and the whole thing goes south. 

"I said," Stark hissed down at Sam, "thank you."

Sam sat back in his chair, eyes trained at Steve. Stark took a long swig of the coffee, moaning obscenely as he swallowed. Finally taking in the rest of the room, he rolled his eyes at Steve. "Oh, relax. Take this as a gesture of good faith," he said, revealing the chamber of his gun, which was completely empty.

Steve didn't move, as did the rest of his crew. "Gesture means nothing to me when I know all the trouble you can cause without a weapon."

Stark grinned. "See? You're learning!"

Steve glared at him. "What do you want?"

"It's not what I want; it's what you want."

Steve rushed forward, pushing Stark against the hard table, pressing his gun against the hard plane of his chest. "I'm done playing your games. What I want right now, is for you to give me a reason not to stop your heart right here."

Stark's poker face remained unfazed, but Steve could feel his heart rate skyrocket through the muzzle of the gun pressed against his chest. "You didn't squeal."

"What?" That wasn't what he was expecting.

"You told me you didn't squeal. I'm... inclined to believe you."

Steve felt himself drop his weapon, staring at Stark at disbelief. "Enough to believe me about my little problem?"

"Our little problem."

"Our?" Steve gaped at him. Just earlier this morning Stark was telling him to take a hike. Something had changed, and Steve was willing to bet that it wasn't anything good. Stark may be crazy, but he surely wasn't stupid. Whatever he had on HYDRA was worth the risk of entering The Commandos den. 

Stark huffed. "Consider me invested. Whether I like it or not, you've dragged me into this mess. I don't have the time or patience for you and your people to blunder about. This needs to be taken care of."

Steve didn't respond. His head was whirling, waiting for the moment for Stark to laugh in his face, call off his bluff and blow the building to pieces.

But it never came.

"You gonna invite me in?" Stark asked, gesturing to Steve's office behind them.

Steve nodded slightly, watching as Stark sauntered past him. "Get back to it," he said to the rest of his crew. Not waiting to be told twice, everyone around him startled, pushing around each other to get back to work. Steve called Clint over. "Stay alert. If anything goes wrong, take care of him." Clint gave a terse nod, perching himself over in the corner of the room, giving him a perfect angle of Steve's office.

Steve took a deep breath before entering his office, a very pissed Bucky following close behind. Walking in, he wasn't surprised to see Stark had already taken the seat behind his desk. Steve's fists tightened against his sides, but he decided against instigating another argument.

"Alright, Stark; cut the shit. What changed your mind?" 

But Stark didn't answer. He looked past Steve and right at Bucky, who was leaning against the door. "Nope. No info until you call your guard dog off."

Bucky narrowed his eyes, but refused to budge, causing Stark to chuckle. "You don't even speak, do you? I mean, I know that all dogs have different levels of intelligence, but I'm surprised you haven't made it this far in your training yet."

"Cap," Bucky hissed.

Steve sighed. "Go wait outside, Buck."

"If you think for one second that I'm leaving you in here alone with him- "

"I wasn't asking."

Bucky huffed, but loyally stomped out of the office with one final glare at Stark.

Finally alone, Steve turned back to Stark. "Talk."

"I did some digging; came across something you might find interesting." Stark pulled out his phone, before looking around the office. "You got a TV in here?"

Steve shook his head.

"Computer? Tablet? Anything?"

With one final head shake, Stark scoffed. "Figures." Steve watched him press a couple buttons on his phone, before he held it up. Steve watched in awe as an image was projected from his phone and onto the far wall in front of them. On the screen, Steve saw what looked like camera footage by the warehouse where he brought Stark to that morning.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?”

Stark pointed to the corner of the projection. “That look fishy to you?” Sure enough, there was another figure that appeared on the photo. The quality was grainy, and with the added shadows from the buildings, Steve could barely make out his face.

“Who is that?”

“I was hoping you would be able to tell me.”

“Photo quality?”

“The best I can do. But if I’m right, and I usually am, he’s our problem.”

Steve nodded. “Makes sense. No one else knew about us meeting except for some of my crew and- don’t even think about it.”

Stark held his hands up in surrender, but Steve had seen the side-eye he was giving. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn't have too. If you even think to insinuate that my people are behind this- ”

“Alright, alright. Jesus, you made your point.” An awkward silence fell over the two, the pair pointedly staring at the photo, avoiding eye contact. 

“That could just be anyone,” Steve said softly. He knew it wasn't. That man was the only explanation for what happened today. But he trusted Stark as far as he could throw him, probably even less than that. Steve wasn't going to blindly lead his crew into a trap to deal with Stark - not after what happened last time. Since he obviously couldn't cooperate with Stark by telling him what he wanted to hear, he'd have to settle for leading him on, goading him to agreeing with the inevitability of HYDRA. 

Stark snorted. “It could. Or.”

“Or.”

“If, and this is a big if, that guy is a surviving member of HYDRA, we're both in a shit storm. Especially you. You’re going to find yourself in a very dangerous situation.”

Steve puffed up his chest. “I handled them once; I think I can do it again.”

Stark shook his head. “You’re not listening. Let’s say that man is HYDRA. And he saw us meeting, which led to my car exploding.”

“Okay?”

Stark rolled his eyes. “Keyword here: us. He saw us meeting; he saw me and you. Everyone knows who I am, but no one should know who you are. If anyone saw us, they would have assumed I was hanging out with a low rate hooker," he said, ignoring Steve's glare. "But somehow, somebody managed to pick up on the fact that I was meeting with The Captain. He saw your face. Which means he knows who you are.”

Steve felt his blood turn icy. This was not good. Anonymity was one of his greatest assets; it protected both him and his team. Unmasking Steve Rogers could be disastrous.

“By the look on your face, no one from HYDRA was supposed to know who you were.”

Steve shook his head. “Anyone who ever did see me never got the chance to tell anyone.”

“Well, someone did,” Stark retorted, pointing back to the screen.  “He needs to go.”

Steve nodded before heading back to his office door. He opened it and leaned out, hollering a loud “Barton!” into the other room. Clint quickly entered, gun still ready.

Steve pointed to the projection. “What can you see?”

Clint shrugged, staring at the still image. “Not much to go on. Male, dark brunette. Heavily built, most likely hired muscle, but definitely skilled. The way he’s using the shadows of the buildings; he probably knew the cameras were there. The way he holds himself, I’m guessing ex-military. Probably a gun for hire now.”

Steve nodded, silently preening when he caught Stark’s impressed gaze. “I know it’s not a lot, but I need you to hit the streets. Start at the warehouse and make your usual perimeter; take people with if you need. Talk to your sources, bribe people, I don’t care. Find this man.”

Clint nodded, already heading out the door.

“Wait.” Stark stopped him.

When the two blondes looked back to him, he continued. “Why go looking for the man, when we can bring him to us?”

“What are you saying?” asked Steve.

“Well, he popped up when we had our first meeting. What do you say about having another little rendezvous?”

Chapter Text

Tony sighed, eyes sweeping the room idly, trying not to think of the ropes rubbing along his wrists.

The water dripping from the ceiling pipe echoed loudly through the silent room. Tony narrowed his eyes at it, as is daring the water to leak out again. 

God, what I would do for a wrench.

Of course, there were more pressing matters at the moment.

“So. Crazy weather we’re having.”

He watched The Captain roll his eyes dramatically before running a strong hand through his gold locks.

“Small talk. Really?”

Tony shrugged. To be honest, he just needed something to keep his mind off everything that had happened.

It had been three days since Tony had last met with The Captain in his overcrowded Brooklyn hideout. They had both agreed that the best way to find their mystery HYDRA man out of hiding was by drawing him out; orchestrating another ‘meeting’ between the two of them seemed like their best option. Of course, this time, The Captain brought his lackeys; The Commandos hiding within the shadows of the alleyways, waiting for action.

The Captain decided that they needed to keep everything the same; if HYDRA had been canvasing them, having routine would probably increase their chances. Same building. Same dark room. Same time. Same old iron chair that Tony found himself tied to yet again.

Keep everything the same, my ass.

Tony was sure The Captain just wanted an excuse to tie him up again.  

“Anything?” Tony asked when he saw The Captain check his phone again.

The blonde shook his head. “It’s still early though.”

Tony felt himself nodding, but didn’t warrant any other response. For the past half hour, the two men had been dancing around small and awkward conversations. Turns out, it had been so much easier when the two were just being hostile to each other. Now that they were working towards a common goal, there wasn’t a lot to say.

Tony sighed for what was probably the millionth time.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?”

Tony glared back at the mob boss. “Well, you aren’t exactly easy to talk to.”

“I could say the same for you.” the blonde barked back at him. 

The two broke off their conversation again, the room falling into silence except for the water dripping from the pipe.

“How’s Hogan?”

Tony snapped his eyes to meet The Captain's gaze. “Umm, there- there hasn’t been any change.” Tony cleared his throat, ignoring how it constricted. Happy’s coma was still a tough subject for Tony to grasp. It had been a shattering jolt back to reality, a terrifying reminder that not even he was untouchable. 

He shouldn't even be here. He should be puttering away in his lab, drinking the finest scotch in his penthouse, having empty sex in his suite. He dabbled in the crime world, sure, everyone needs a hobby. But the past three days had opened up a world that Tony wasn't sure he wanted to be a part of. There was a time that he thought it was all he wanted - but that was a lifetime ago. Back when his parents were still breathing and he gave a shit about what they thought about him. But now, he was different. The life he had was one that he painstakingly built himself. He was happy - and he sure as hell wasn't going to let HYDRA or The Captain take it away from him. 

“I’m sorry, you know.”

Tony jolted from his thoughts and gaped at the mob boss.

The Captain looked down at his hands. “I know you don’t think much of me, but this… I never intended for- ” he broke off with a huff. “I posted two men at the hospital, just in case HYDRA came back to try and finish the job.”

What? What angle is he playing here? 

“Oh. Um, that was, uh. Thank you, I guess,” Tony stuttered out. 

“Least I could do,” the blonde shrugged. 

Tony looked around the room again, giving a soft chuckle. “This is ridiculous,” he whispered to himself, bringing his hands around to his front, throwing the now useless rope in between the men’s feet. “You gotta learn how to tie better knots,” he said, smirking at The Captain.

“You gonna head butt me again?” The Captain returned with a small smile of his own.

“You were the one who decided we needed to have a repeat performance. I’d usually be game to show how a real New Yorker throws down, but I’m gonna tap out this time. Can’t afford to lose any more brain cells.”

“Excuses, excuses,” The Captain mumbled.

Tony grinned, moving to change the subject. “So, you’ve got some pretty cramped quarters over in Brooklyn. Guys have a heist coming up?”

The Captain eyed him warily, but Tony held his hands up innocently. “Relax. I’m not interested in stealing your business; just color me curious.”

The Captain furrowed his brows, staring long at Tony before nodding his head. “Yeah, yeah we do. Nat caught wind of some weapons just sitting around in a holding facility. It’s time we went shopping. And no,” The Captain added, taking in Tony’s face. “They’re not yours. We’re not that stupid. The guns are Hammer's.”

Tony couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him that time, hands resting against his abdomen. “Oh, that’s rich. What a stupid asshole, leaving his weapons just lying around. Do me a favor; don’t be afraid to get creative. Nothing paints a more beautiful picture that a well-timed explosion. And of course I’ll get the added pleasure of seeing a few priceless looks on his prick face. Honestly, it’s a win-win for everyone.”

The Captain rolled his eyes, but Tony could see the underlying smile. “Bombs aren’t really our style.”

“Ah, yes, Captain Incognito. But maybe that’s what you’re missing: a flair for the dramatic. You need to strut.”

“And you need to focus on the current problem, Mr. Stark. HYDRA now, Hammer later.”

“Just putting in my two cents, is all. What are you gonna do with those guns once you have them?”

The Captain narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You gonna use them?” When The Captain remained silent, Tony continued. “It’s just, Hammer weapons aren’t reliable; in the end, they’ll probably end up causing more problems than solutions. To be blunt, your men are going to end up with a jammed gun in the middle of a firefight. Do you only use Hammer weapons?”

“No.”

“Well, do you have a dealer?”

The Captain’s poker face remained unfazed. “Maybe.”

“Alright, easy. I was just asking. All I’m saying, from a business standpoint, you should reconsider your options.”

“You just told me to torch Hammer’s warehouse and now you don’t want me going near his weapons?”

“I didn’t say that," Tony argued. "All I mean, is that there are better options.”

“Such as?”

“Selling.”

“You want me to sell most-likely defective guns to other mobs?”

Tony nodded. “It’s better than taking a chance with your crew. Not to mention the early Christmas bonus you’d be getting.”

The Captain hummed, but didn’t say more on the matter, most likely mulling it over in his head.

Tony groaned inwardly. What the hell was he doing? Four days ago the man sitting in front of him could have potentially ended his life, and now Tony was giving away business advice? He rubbed at his temples, trying to get a handle on the raging storm in his head.

He needed to stay focused on his goal. Tony didn’t give a shit, couldn’t give a shit, to what might happen to The Captain and The Howling Commandos. In the end, there was only one thing that mattered: getting himself out of this alive.

Tony Stark was a business shark. He had gotten to where he was today all on his own. Relying on other people was a weakness, caring was a weakness, and just another way for him to get killed.

Tony shuddered as her heard his father’s voice drift through his head.

“Don’t get involved.”

Bucky elbowed Clint in the side when he felt him shift next to him again. “Will you quit squirming?”

“I can’t,” whined Clint. “I have to pee and we’ve been sitting here for like, hours.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn’t give an answer. He couldn’t really blame Clint; they had been sitting out there for a while, and even Bucky was starting to get restless.

“It looks like our guy is a no show,” Bucky said with a grimace. He had really hoped this would have worked out. For as much as an ass that Stark was, the idea he had wasn’t half bad. It was their only chance to finally get a lead on HYDRA, but now it seemed like they were back to square one. “I’ll text Cap,” he continued. “This isn’t working.”

Bucky made a move to stand up, when Clint pulled him back down harshly. “What?” he hissed at the smaller man.

Clint didn’t verbally respond, just gave a small point across the street. There, Bucky saw a man step out of the shadows, and head over to the car Steve and Stark had driven to the warehouse. Bucky watched as the man approached slowly, a hand pressed firmly at his flank, no doubt resting on a side arm.

“That him?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Yep.”

That was all the confirmation Bucky needed. Even if it was hailing out in the middle of the night, Bucky would trust Clint’s eyes. “He’s heading for the car.”

“No doubt to place another bomb.”

Bucky nodded, agreeing, before turning to face Clint. “You got this?”

“Yeah. What are you thinking?”

“The area’s still populated, and the last thing we need is the sound of bullets attracting unwanted police attention.”

“Bow it is,” Clint nodded, already setting up the large recurve bow.

Bucky watched as the man moved meticulously over the weapon, checking to make sure everything was set before he nocked an arrow against the taut string, drawing his toned arm back. Clint’s breathing slowed, the hunter emerging, stalking his prey.

“Cap wants him delivered alive.” Clint didn’t answer, but Bucky knew he was listening. “However,” Bucky continued, “I’m sure he won’t mind a few packaging errors.”

Bucky watched as Clint grinned, almost feral, before letting an arrow fly. The choked shout that followed was all the proof Bucky needed. Not that he actually need any; Clint never missed. Bucky turned and saw the man twitching helplessly on the ground, long arrow piercing out of his upper left shoulder.

“Ooh, what a beauty.”

Clint smirked, already disassembling his bow. “I’d like to see that asshole be able to fire a gun after that.”

“You never cease to amaze me, Clint Barton,” Bucky retorted, pulling out his phone. He dialed Steve’s number, the man picking up on the first ring.

“What?”

Bucky grinned. “I got good news, Cap. Christmas came early, and we got you one hell of a present.”

Chapter Text

“So. How are we gonna do this? Your way, or my way?”

Tony stood next to The Captain in the depths of his base, staring at the man Barnes and Barton brought in. The man was still unconscious, so The Captain wasted no time in making sure he was properly restrained in the chair.

Tony had been pleasantly surprised at Barton’s work. Of course, Tony knew how talented each of The Commandos were; he had compiled files on each and every one of them he knew about, but Tony still found himself impressed. Barton’s initial description of the guy was spot on, the large man in front of him screamed ex-military and gun-for-hire. On top of that, Barton’s shot with his bow, yes, that’s right, a bow and arrow, was a better shot than Tony could probably make with a gun and a scope all while standing right in front of the man. The wound was clean and downright perfect; minimum blood loss, but maximum damage.

After the man had gone down, a quick knock to the head and he was out cold. Which seemed nice at the time, but Tony was anything but patient. Waiting for the man to regain consciousness was like watching ice melt. This man could provide the answers both he and The Captain were desperate for. If this was just some antsy mob that got too cocksure, or if HYDRA really had returned from the grave. Tony hoped for the former. 

“You have an interrogation technique?” Tony could hear the amusement in The Captain’s voice.

Tony turned to face him, frowning. “Is that such a big shock?”

“You just don’t seem like the person to get your hands dirty, that’s all,” shrugged The Captain.

Tony picked at his already impeccably clean suit. “That’s true. Why do it myself when I could just pay someone to do it for me?”

The Captain rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Just because I don’t resort to a gun doesn’t mean I can’t hold my own. If information is what we need, I can get it no problem.”

The Captain crossed his arms defensively. “What, by doing it your way?”

“It’s a hell of a lot more effective than your way,” Tony snorted.

“Oh really? I have a lot of bodies that might disagree with you.”

“Key word: bodies. How many of those people actually talked before you blew their brains out? Your way is too primitive; the whole ‘let’s just beat the shit out of them until they talk’ thing is old fashioned, and it doesn’t always work. I mean, look at this guy,” Tony said, gesturing to their unconscious guest. “You really think he’ll start spilling the beans if you slap him around a couple times? You’ll just waste time and ruin some clothes. Let me take care of this.”

The Captain scoffed at him. “What are you gonna do? Throw money at the guy until he talks?”

“Please, I only bribe people with class,” Tony said with a wave of his hand. “No, I prefer to use technological warfare.”

The Captain shot him an unimpressed look. 

“Listen, you need to wake up. This is the 21^st century, not some cheesy 1940’s Al Capone reenactment! You can’t rely on just your fists anymore. You see, it’s not about having the bigger guns, it’s about having the best guns.”

“Oh, and I suppose you have the best guns?”

“Let me run a trace on this guy. Give me an hour and I’ll know everything down to what elementary school he went to.”

“I have yet to see how that helps,” The Captain drawled. 

Tony shot another glare towards the hulking blonde. “You'll have everything on this guy! Five minutes and I can have him posted as a top sexual predator. Hell, buy me a coffee, and I’ll have him up on the FBI Most Wanted list before you get back. I can send everyone on this guy, both government and criminals with just a few taps on my keyboard. What about the secrets this guy is hiding? Release those to the public and HYDRA thinks he’s gonna rogue. No matter now we spin it, we’ll get what we need from him, he’ll be a dead man, and you wouldn’t even have to lift a finger.”

Silence echoed through the small room, broken sporadically by their prisoner’s raspy breaths, still unconscious. Tony stared at The Captain, starting to think that he had won him over. That was until The Captain gave a sharp laugh. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Tony startled. “Are you kidding me?”

“What the hell do you think will happen if information starts pouring out about this guy? HYDRA will know we’ve got him, and they’ll come after us!”

“The fact that you think that I can’t fake some files is just plain insulting,” Tony hissed. Who the hell did this guy think he is? 

“And what about digging through the rest of his info? You’ll leave a paper trail. How long until HYDRA tracks it back to us? How long until they find my hideouts, take out the rest of my crew? No, we’re doing it my way.”

“Your way will just give us another dead body!”

“Exactly!" The Captain shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "You said that you can get him on the FBI’s Most Wanted, right? Let his fear drive him to give us info. What makes you think he’ll believe you? Besides, for all of this to work in the end, we’d have to let him go. Have him go back out into the wild, and just hope that some cop will pick him up? Yeah, I don’t think so. He’ll know what I look like and know that we’re working together! What’s to say HYDRA won’t get to him first? Then we’ll all be screwed. No, this man doesn’t leave this room alive.”

Tony wanted to strangle the man. Who does The Captain think he is, talking to Tony like he was some amateur? Like he has no idea what he’s getting himself into. It made his blood boil. It had been a long time since anyone had talked to him like that. Even when he was young, gangly limbs still filling out his awkward body Tony had stood head tall and teeth bared in both the classroom and the boardroom. In the public eye, even the private. Everyone always praised how much he was like Howard in that regard. Little did they know, he'd gotten that way not because of Howard teaching him, but from the man leading the attack against Tony himself. Maybe that had been his plan all along. That was his parenting style, survival of the fittest. 

But it didn't matter how often Tony tried; in Howard's eyes, he was never fit enough. And here he was, years later, staring up at a man, wearing the same face he'd seen his father wear too many times. I'm not a child, anymore. You will not beat me. 

“If you kill him now, you won’t get all of his information," Tony pushed back. "Look at him! That man over there is not gonna squeal when you start throwing punches; he’ll just bring it to the grave. Throw in some threats, rough him up a little bit, and I’ll do the rest. Let him go and I’ll have every government organization on him from the CIA to the National Park Conservation Association. He won’t last a day out there, and he’ll have no choice but to come crawling back to me. He’ll spill everything he knows, and I’ll make everything go away with a snap of my fingers. And then you can put a bullet in his brain. We’re doing it my way.”

The Captain stomped over to Tony, puffing up his chest. Any weaker man probably would have wet his pants but Tony wasn’t buying it. “I don’t take orders from you,” hissed The Captain.

Tony just sneered back. “Likewise, sweetheart.”

“If you think you can just come in here, and tell me how to interrogate my prisoners- ”

“My? What happened to being a team player?”

“Maybe I don’t want some pompous asshole like you on my team anymore.”

Tony gave a hollow chuckle. “Well that’s too bad for you, honeybuns. You dragged me into this, so it looks like you’re stuck with my pompous asshole. Now step aside, and let me work my magic.”

The Captain refused to budge. “You’re not going anywhere. How about I put you in another chair like our guest here?”

“How about I push some buttons and reveal your face to the world?” Tony asked, pulling out his phone.

“How about the next time either of you talk, you both get a bullet in your brain?”

Both men whipped around, Tony startling with an added jump. Across the room sat Natasha Romanoff, idly picking at her nails.

When did she get here?

The fiery redhead walked over to the two men with grace, but her face spoke volumes of harsh annoyance. “If I have to sit through any more of this pissing contest, someone will die. And, oddly enough, it probably won’t be the guy we brought here to kill.”

Tony looked at the ground before glancing over at The Captain. Tony saw as he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, a faint blush dusting across his cheeks. Tony smirked at The Captain, seeing as he looked like someone who got in trouble at school. When he looked back at Romanoff, the smile fell quickly from his face when he was met with another icy stare.

God, this woman is terrifying.

Romanoff looked between the two of them, giving a small smile when both men kept their mouths shut. “I’m glad we had this talk. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s deal with this.” She pointed back to the man in the chair, but shot her arms out when the other two men stepped towards the chair. “Oh no. We’re doing it my way.”

Tony decided that it was in his better judgement that he not argue with that. He stepped off to the side of the room, leaning against a cold wall to watch the show while The Captain remained at attention in the center of the room, waiting to be the first thing their prisoner sees when he wakes up.

Tony watched as Romanoff sidled over to the man, pulling a small bottle of smelling salts out of her back pocket. A quick whiff under the man’s nose, and he shot into consciousness, gasping for breath. He barely had time to take in his surroundings before Romanoff landed a sharp slap to the man’s face.

“What the- Where am I?” the man managed to choke out.

“Immaterial,” replied Romanoff. “Who are you? Who do you work for?”

“What are you talking abo- ”

The man doubled over when Romanoff pressed a finger against his shoulder wound. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

Romanoff pulled away, waiting for the man to respond. Tony shifted uneasily against the wall. Maybe it would be better if he waited outside. It seemed that Romanoff’s interrogation style was not that much different than The Captain’s. However, Tony thought that she could probably get much more creative. Tony never really had the stomach for all that. Sure he could handle a lot, but even he had his limits. Another hit and muffled grunt got Tony’s attention.

The man in the chair still ignored Romanoff, opting to take a look around the room. His gaze met The Captain’s, and then Tony’s. Tony couldn’t help but smile when he saw the man give a small flinch. “So it’s true then. You guys are working together?”

The Captain pulled out his gun. “That’s not the question she asked you.”

The bound man gave a small smile. “Sorry, Captain. I don’t feel much like talking today.” 

Tony shot forward. “Yeah, let’s back up. How do you know who he is?” he asked, waving to the Captain’s face.

“If I wasn’t going to talk to him, I sure as hell am not saying anything to you, Stark.”

Tony’s jaw clenched. He opened his mouth his give a snarky retort, but Romanoff stepped in. “Then you can talk to me. The way I see it, you have a few options. Option A,” she said nodding to The Captain, “is I let The Captain beat you to a pulp, until you’re begging for a bullet in your brain. Or, Option B,” she continued, pointing at Tony, “where Stark here gets you on the wanted list of every known government, putting you on the run until you find yourself screaming for mercy in some shitty Russian gulag. And of course, just because I’m feeling generous, you can have Option C, which is me. You tell me everything I need to know, and I’ll make sure Bonnie and Clyde over here won’t become a problem for you.”

Tony could see the fear in the man’s eyes, hell, Tony was even sweating from that exchange. But when it looked like the man would finally answer, he just started laughing.

“I fail to see how this is funny, son,” sneered The Captain.

“Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter, nothing matters. It’s too late; they probably already know you snatched me,” the man continued in between his laughs.

“Who’s they?” Tony demanded. Please, let it be anyone but them. 

“I think you already know the answer to that question, Stark.”

The Captain reached forward and grabbed the man by his shoulders. It seemed as if he was just as distressed as Tony about hearing the confirmation of HYDRA, if not more so. “Who the hell are you?”

“The first of many,” the man hissed. “Cut off one head and two more shall take its place.” Tony watched as the man’s tongue traced the inside of his mouth, before Tony heard a crack as the man bit down on something. “Hail HYDRA.”

The man’s mouth started foaming, seizures racking his body. Before the three of them even had time to react, the man was dead, lying slumped in the chair, eyes dull and vacant.

Cyanide pill, Tony thought, eyes wide with shock. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Tony looked back over at The Captain whose surprise mirrored his own.

“What the hell do we do now?”

Chapter Text

Steve was pacing. He felt the weight of Stark’s gaze on him, but continued to ignore him. He knew what he wanted, but Steve was just as much in the dark as he was. It's nothing he had seen before either. Even when facing HYDRA the first time, they'd never resorted to something like this. This did not bode well. “How?”

Natasha, who was still mulling over the body, stood back with a small sigh. “Fake tooth. Very inconspicuous; no one would even think to look.”

Steve rubbed his hands over his face. “This could not have gone worse.”

Stark shrugged. “He could have had a grenade instead of cyanide.”

Steve stared at his new business partner. For just watching a man kill himself, Stark looked remarkably calm. However, Steve could still see some uneasiness hidden behind his brown eyes. Steve knew he had the same look in his own. “Any thoughts?” Steve prompted.

Stark looked back at man in the chair. “Well, dead man tells no tales,” he quipped, stepping over to him. “So I guess I’ll just do the talking for him.” Steve watched as Stark pulled out his phone before snapping a few close ups of the man’s face.

“You sure?” Stark had boasted all about how he could bring weaker men to their knees without so much as taking a swing. And while Steve would be foolish not to believe him, there was a heavy layer of uneasiness that sat with him. He didn't doubt Stark's skills, but who was really to gain here? What he said he could do to their prisoner with only a computer - how long before he does the same to Steve? To the crew? Stark's full skill set was unknown to him; the man himself was a ticking time bomb. Trying to keep any control of the situation with his methods was the only way he could think of to potentially keep the mouthy brunette in line.

Of course, all their arguing didn't really seem to matter in the end. All that bickering and all they had to show for it was another dead body. And no answers. 

Stark turned back to him. “Captain, the man had a tooth full of cyanide. He was prepared for if we ever caught up with him. Why go through all this trouble unless you have something to hide? We can’t leave empty handed. I’ll be able to easily get facial recognition off him with these new photos. Let me dig into him.”

“Let me run a trace on this guy. Give me an hour and I’ll know everything down to what elementary school he went to.”

Steve knew that Stark was right. What other choice did they have? Honestly, he would take any kind of answers at this point. Even if that meant doing it Stark’s way. All he could do know is pray that this gesture of good faith keeps Stark on their side. “Do it.”

Stark nodded, slipping his phone into tailored suit. “Well then. This was fun, but I’ll, uh, just leave you to it,” he said, gesturing to the dead body.

Steve stopped him before he could leave. “Wait. When you find anything, don’t come back here. It was risky enough that you’ve showed up a few times already. But now we know that people are watching us, and I’m not gonna let you lead them straight to me and my people.”

I will not let you risk my family. 

“How am I supposed to get in touch with you?”

Steve snorted. “It took you a few hours to find my home base. Surely Tony Stark could figure out a measly phone number.”

“Touché, Captain,” Stark responded with a smirk. “I’ll be in touch,” he added before sauntering out of the room, giving a small salute.

Steve watched him go before turning back to the dead body. 

This is only the beginning, he thought. And they were already behind. He'd been so naive, again, thinking that he wouldn't be blindsided this time. And yet, HYDRA still managed to be three steps ahead. It was almost as if he'd learned nothing. 

But today wasn't a compete victory for them. Last time, Steve hadn't seen the full picture until it was too late. He hadn't seen what HYDRA was truly capable of until it was too late. But this time, they'd shown their hand too early. If this is what they're willing to resort to, then the storm coming is far worse than what he'd imagined. But at least he's seen it coming, this time. He could protect them, this time. 

“I’ll take care of this,” Natasha said, moving to stand next to him.

“Later,” interjected Steve. “Call a family meeting.”

“Of course. Steve, I- ”

“Don’t,” Steve started, turning to face her. “I know what you’re gonna say. This wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have known that- ”

“You said it yourself that no one would have thought to look there. You couldn’t have known.”

“It’s my job to know,” she said softly.

He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Stark will find something. We’ll have a break through, and then we’ll get the job done. Just like we always do. And besides, it wouldn’t be fun if it wasn’t a challenge, would it?”

Steve counted it as a win when he saw a small smile grace Natasha’s face. “I’ll go get everyone. Ten minutes.”

Steve heard Natasha exit the room, but his eyes never left the HYDRA man in the chair. I will be better, this time, he thought to himself. For them. 

There was a little part of Steve that just wanted to run. Take the crew and leave; find a new life, new city, far away from HYDRA and the impending doom that stood before them.

But Steve knew he could never leave. He had worked so hard to get here; he wasn’t going to sit idly by and let HYDRA terrorize Brooklyn, terrorize New York. He owed everyone that much.

“You have something against running away?”

“If you start running, they’ll never let you stop.”

Steve groaned as he rubbed his forehead, wishing for ancient memories to stop swirling around in his head. This wasn’t the time get nostalgic; his team needed him.

He left the room, walking back upstairs and towards their meeting room only to run into Bucky.

“Hey, Nat just filled me in. A cyanide tooth?” This isn't good, Bucky had meant. What do we do now?  was the real question. 

Steve just nodded. “Everyone in there?”

“Yep, we got them all.”

Steve walked into the overcrowded room, the bustling conversations coming to a halt. As The Commandos stared at him, Steve noted how to compensate for the small room, his team ended up sharing seats, leaning against each other to make sure everyone had a place in the cramped space. It was moments like this where Steve couldn’t help but smile, the scene before him reminding Steve that they were more than a team. They were a family. One that Steve was not willing to lose.

Not again. 

His men pulled back as he walked through, making space so Steve could sit at his usual chair at the head of the room. He sat down, immediately resting his head in his hand, waiting for Bucky to shut the door and squeeze through the room to sit at Steve’s right.

“Alright. No doubt you’ve heard by now that our interrogation with the man downstairs was… less than stellar.” A few murmured chuckles resounded in the room. “However. Stark is gonna pull some strings and get us the information we need.”

“We really gonna trust this guy?” Bucky asked.

“Trust? No. Deal with? Yes. Besides we don’t really have a choice now. He’s our only lead to getting any information about HYDRA.”

“So it’s true then? They’re back?” Dugan asked.

“Looks like it.” Steve answered. The room exploded in noise, The Commando’s desperate voices filing the space. Steve’s head was pounding; he really didn’t need this right now. He flicked hand in Clint’s direction, and a sharp whistle pulled his men out of their side conversations.

“That being said,” Steve continued patiently. “We’re going to have to take some precautions in the future until this problem is resolved.”

“Like what?” a voice called out.

“Well, for one, we can’t go through with this job.” Steve ignored the resounding groans he got from the other occupants in the room.

“If we wait around, we’ll lose our window of opportunity,” argued Natasha.

“I don’t care; it’s too risky. Until we have a better handle on our current situation, we need to lay low. That means,” Steve continued, looking at Dugan, “no more bar fights. No more flirting with government officials or disasters like in Budapest,” he said, flicking an eye from Sam, to Clint and Nat. “And that definitely means no drunken displays at Coney Island.”

“That was one time,” Bucky tried to interject, but Steve held up a hand.

“All I’m saying is that we need to stay on the right side of the law for now; don’t go around attracting attention. Always check your six, and never find yourself alone. You don’t know who could be watching.”

The room sat tense, but Steve didn’t have time to sugarcoat anything for The Commandos. HYDRA was back; he needed to protect his people at all cost. He had to.

It won’t be like last time. I won’t let that happen again.

“Alright then,” he said, drawing eyes back to him. “We need to figure out how- ”

Steve was cut off when the door banged open and a police officer raced into the room. Sam was the first to react; he saw the uniform and had his gun drawn before the officer could even respond.

Clint jumped up. “Hey! Put your goddamn gun down,” he shouted at Sam, racing across the room to grab the gun from the man’s hand, quickly disassembling it. “Fuckin’ newbie,” he added, landing a sharp slap to the back of Sam’s head.

Steve watched as Clint then slid over to the officer, smiling softly. “Phil?” Clint tried to get the man’s attention, but Coulson only had eyes for Steve. He was out of breath; who knows how far Coulson ran to get here. He looked flustered, putting Steve on edge. Coulson doesn’t get flustered. And he sure as hell wouldn't be caught walking around the base of The Commandos in broad daylight. Something wasn’t right.

“What’s wrong?” Steve questioned.

“I’m sorry; I wouldn’t even think to come here unless I knew it was serious,” Coulson managed to stammer out.

“Coulson,” Steve prompted.

“Right, sorry. Clint’s told me what’s been going on the past few days- which I've elected to ignore,” he cut in when Steve shot a hardened gaze at Clint. “It’s just, you told me to keep an eye out. For anything HYDRA related.”

Steve’s gaze snapped back to Coulson. “You find them?”

Coulson shook his head. “Not exactly. I heard Fury mention the name a few times.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much. All I know is that he just left the station a little while ago. He’s going to make a move.”

“Against HYDRA?”

“No. That’s the problem.”

Tony uploaded another picture of the now dead HYDRA goon. There was no way that he couldn’t find out who the man was now. The crystal clear pictures Tony had taken before he left The Captain with the body would give him answers in a matter of minutes.

“Alright, JARVIS. Let’s try this again. You know the drill; I want everything.”

“Of course, Sir. Scanning now.”

Tony paced in his office, pondering over everything that had happened. Even he couldn’t deny it anymore; HYDRA was out there. And they meant business. The real question now was how far Tony was willing to go to get rid of them. The Captain took care of them once; surely he could do it again. But he'd seen his face down in the basement. The Captain obviously wasn't the most forthcoming about what had happened the first time he'd faced off with HYDRA, but seeing him so distraught already didn't sit well with Tony. If anything, it bolstered the fact that they needed to care of this problem as soon as possible. 

But could he work with The Commandos? Tony could probably have an easier time talking to a brick wall than The Captain. Their relationship was already wobbling on the shaky foundation built of a mutual distrust and wariness. The argument at the base was mostly likely the first of many. How much longer before one snide comment becomes a tipping point, and Tony is gunned down by one of The Captain's trigger-happy hounds. 

Was Tony really willing to lay down on the wire for these people?

Caring is a weakness.

Why lay down on the wire when you can just cut it?

“Sir?”

“What? You got him?” Tony startled out of his own head.

“No, Sir. My protocols are being overwritten.”

“Wait, what?”

“There is a security breach.”

Tony reacted immediately, jumping over his deck and reaching to an extra handgun he taped to the underside. This sure as hell wasn't The Captain's work. If he'd decided he was done with their partnership, Tony knew the man had no qualms sending Barnes to pop him in the street. And if it wasn't The Commandos, it had to be the looming doom of HYDRA, coming back to finish the job. He looked at the door, bracing for action.

When the door finally opened, Tony was not met with mobsters, but with what looked like a very pissed off policeman with- wait, is that an eyepatch?

“What the- ”

“Mr. Stark.”

“Maybe," he asked, hiding the hand holding his firearm under the desk. The last thing he needed to be slapped with was a public arrest for endangering a cop. "Who the hell are you?”

“Commissioner Nicolas Fury. If you’re not too busy, I’m going to need you to come down to the station with me.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Fury almost sneered back at him. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Well, sorry, Blackbeard. You’re going to have to schedule an appointment.”

Fury gave a hollow chuckle before reaching into his uniform. Tony tensed, his hand still lying over his gun. He couldn’t help but give a small curse when Fury pulled out not a gun, but a warrant.

“Maybe I wasn’t asking.”

Chapter Text

“Sir?”

“What?” Pierce didn’t even bother turning around to face who was addressing him. His worker’s nervousness screamed bad news.

“Well, it’s Rumlow. He hasn’t checked in since he left on a lead for The Captain.”

Pierce let out a small sigh, but didn’t respond. He knew this was going to happen, hell, he'd wanted it to happen. But Rumlow was a good soldier. Maybe I should have sent someone else. 

“Should we send some- ”

“No,” Pierce cut him off. “Don’t bother. If he hasn’t checked in by now, you know what’s happened.”

“Of course, Sir. What should we- ”

“Leave. I’ll take care of it.” The squirrelly man dipped out of Pierce’s office, no doubt relieved that he survived being the bringer of bad news. Unknowingly, the man had actually brought the best news he’s heard all day. Assuming that everything had gone according to plan. 

Pierce smiled as he punched a number into his phone.

“Is it done?”

“Yes, it’s just been confirmed.”

A static laugh came through the phone. “I knew they wouldn’t be able to resist. We basically handed them Rumlow on a silver platter.”

Pierce furrowed his brow. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing because this has already cost me a man.”

“Relax, Pierce. Rumlow was an idiot if he thought he could spy on Stark and The Captain without them catching wind. At least this way we have the upper hand again.”

“Well how do we now it even worked?”

“You forget who you’re talking to; it worked. Now that the signal’s dead, I’ll retrieve the transmissions and have answers for you by the end of the hour.”

“Alright; keep me updated.”

"Monger, out.”

Pierce hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. This better work, he thought to himself. He cursed when he saw the clock, quickly grabbing his briefcase before heading out the door for work.

After Rumlow’s initial failure at Stark’s meeting with the military, Pierce knew he had to step up his game. There was no use ignoring it now; Stark was working with The Captain. This was bad news. Sure, The Captain was a huge threat to them already, but with Stark? The two of them together could tear apart what Pierce had spent months rebuilding.

Yes, Stark had to be taken care of. Immediately. Normally Pierce would just result to Hammer for these sorts of things, but Stark was a wily one. He had been dodging Hammer for years; Pierce needed him dealt with now.

Which left The Monger. If The Captain was willing to resort to unlikely allies, than he would do the same. It was a game, after all, and he was here for the long haul. Every move The Captain would make would be met with one twice as powerful. Stark was a threat, sure, there were enough whispers about The Monger that even had he, the head of HYDRA, turning his head. Their current arrangement was rocky, of course, but they had a common enemy.

This situation with Rumlow was a test run, to see how his new business partner operated. Pierce had been a little skeptical with The Monger’s plan, but so far, it had wielded nothing but results. Rumlow was dead, a definite inconvenience, but the upcoming profit would be so much sweeter than the losses.

It was simple really; The Monger knows how Stark operates. With him working with The Captain, they knew that it was only a matter of time before they caught up with Rumlow.

Why not just give him to them? The Monger had asked, showing Pierce a fake tooth.

Pierce had implanted the use of the cyanide pills not too long ago. With such sensitive information him and his men were working with, there was no way they could let anyone get their hands on it. It was quick and easy, not to mention a perfect way to test loyalties.

So of course Rumlow would use it when he got caught. What he didn’t know, however, that he had been given an updated version. Made by The Monger.

It was all too easy to call Rumlow in for some “routine inspection” on his fake tooth. Take the tooth off, inspect and replace the cyanide. But, instead of giving him back the old one, Pierce gave Rumlow The Mongers version. Same fake tooth, same cyanide, but with a small addition. A small transmitter, a bug, easily hidden within the poison.

The Monger knew that The Captain was always careful, destroying phones, and checking for trackers. It was part of the reason no one had been able to catch him.

But no one ever thinks to look at the teeth.

The plan was beautiful in it's simplicity. Pierce sent Rumlow out to look for Stark and The Captain to “place another bomb” all the while The Monger traced the electromagnetic waves of the transmitter. Rumlow gets caught by The Captain’s men, and dragged back to one of their hideouts. Rumlow refuses to cooperate, biting on the tooth, which of course crushes the transmitter along with the cyanide, making it impossible for Stark to trace it back to them.

It was ingenious.

If everything worked as planned, The Monger should be able to come up with a location. And then? It would be time for their next move.

Pierce smiled again, walking at a brisker pace. Today was a good day.

“I’m sorry; I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot. Do I look at the patch or the eye?”

“Mr. Stark, please- ”

“It’s a legitimate question!”

Fury sighed deeply, glaring back at Tony. It was a gaze that made Tony uneasy. One that knew too much. This one was going to be a problem, Tony thought to himself. He was already on edge, his body coiled tense as a coil, charge reverberating through his body, the current looking for an outlet to expel the energy. He had been brought into the station plenty times before, sure. He was never worried though; it wasn't like they could pin him with anything. Any evidence of his less-than legal hobbies that could ever be considered incriminating were constantly screened and destroyed by his eye in the cyber sky, JARVIS. But being here, right in the wake of everything that was happening with HYDRA? It couldn't be a coincidence. 

Not that Tony showed an ounce of this stress. No, instead he wore his usual mask, one of cool indifference, staring back at the Commissioner with bored eyes. He was leaned back at an angle, legs propped up on the table in front of him, displaying himself completely at ease as he sat in the uncomfortable chair in one of many interrogation rooms of the NYPD. He wasn't sure how many men Fury had broken it here, in this very chair, but Tony wasn't going to be another name on that list. 

“Mr. Stark. I just need to ask you a few questions," Fury continued. 

Tony shrugged. “You answer mine, I answer yours. Let’s start. Why am I here?”

“As I said before, I just need to ask a few questions.”

“Is that what it said on the warrant? Correct me if I’m wrong, Commissioner, but don’t you only give out warrants to people you’re going to arrest?”

Fury smirked. “Why? You worried, Stark?”

Tony barked out a laugh. “Who, me? I haven’t broken any laws.”

“Please, Stark. You’re as crooked as they come.”

“And yet, no one’s been able to charge me.”

“The only reason you don’t find yourself in a cell is because of your powerful friends.”

“I’d like to think it was my own spunk that got me where I am today,” Tony drawled.

“So you admit to being a crook?”

“Of course not. I’m just admitting that I’m smarter than you.” Tony silently preened when he saw Fury clench his jaw. 

"Being the smartest person in the room, doesn't mean that you always actually are. It means you know how to act like it. How do you think I survived working with your father all these years?" 

“Mr. Stark,” Fury continued after a moment. “My men have been trying for days to get your statement on what happened at your last business deal.”

Tony balled his fists. He didn't have time for this, nor did he much care for it. The lengthy statements, the half-assed condolences. The 'we have our best men on it' spiel. Tony wondered what it would be like to be a law-abiding citizen. To put so much blatant trust in the government, in the system. To be so oblivious to agendas, hidden beneath pompous propaganda and plastic smiles. To think everything was black and white. 

Happy had been attacked and Tony knew who did it. He wasn't going to sit around and wait for the system to decide whether or not its in their best interest of pursuing. HE wasn't going to waste time figuring out if Fury was the type to just write some shit down and send him on his merry way, or be in the minority that actually put on the blue uniform to help people. Fury probably wasn't one of them; those poor blokes get themselves killed too young. “I can’t imagine how much more light I could shed on the situation,” he finally grit out. 

“Well, I’d like to think that the bomb was meant for you. Know anyone that would want you dead?”

Tony couldn’t help but fall into a laughing fit. “You really want me to answer that?”

“Well, whoever it is, they seem to be pretty serious. We know about your involvement with some of New York’s gangs- ”

“Alleged involvement.”

Fury sighed again. “Fine. Alleged involvement. And somewhere along the line, you’ve managed to piss someone off.”

“You’ll have to be more specific, I do that all the time. It’s a hobby,” Tony chided.

“Well, you’re going to have to sit down long and hard to think, then. The fact that they’re targeting you means serious business. Now, I could give a rat’s ass about what happens to you, but if there’s a potential for a mob war, I need to know about that. I have a city to protect.”

Case and point. When did the policemen become the politicians? “And I am a citizen of said city. Doesn’t that mean you have to protect me to?”

Fury raised an eyebrow. “You asking for protection, Stark?”

“Please,” Tony smiled. “Don’t make me laugh.” When Fury didn’t respond, Tony continued. “We done here? You can’t detain me without a charge.”

“We’re done. For now. I’ll escort you- ”

“I can do that, Sir.”

Tony nearly jumped out of his skin; he hadn’t even heard the other man come in.

Fury gave a small nod. “Thanks, Coulson.”

“Uh, no. I can find my own way home, thank you very- ”

Tony stopped when Coulson reached out and grabbed his arm. “I insist, Mr. Stark. Don’t test me.”

Tony’s eyes widened slightly, not missing the way Coulson’s lip twitched in a small smile as he saw that Tony realized where he’d heard that before. There's no way, he thought to himself. Is there? 

“Right then,” Tony replied slowly. “Commissioner,” he said, heading to the door after giving Fury small wave.

“Stark.”

Tony froze, glancing carefully over his shoulder to where Fury had gotten out of his chair. 

“One day you’re going to realize that you’re in over your head, Stark. There’s a storm coming, and I think you know it. Don’t even bother trying to lie; I know you haven’t told me everything you know. We could have been allies in this, you and I. I think you know who bombed you; you know who’s coming after you. But you’re protecting someone, and now you’re standing in my way. That makes you a threat. A threat that I won’t hesitate to take down if you continue to be a hindrance. You better tread lightly, Stark. There’s a new player on the battlefield, now. And it’s me.”

Tony stood as tall as he could. It seemed that his initial conclusion of the man had been right. This one knows too much. And his threats were not to be trifled with. “Guess I better go and get my armor.” And with that, Tony slid out of the interrogation room, following dutifully behind Coulson.

It wasn’t long before he was slipping in the passenger seat of Coulson’s police cruiser, still eyeing the officer warily. Coulson didn’t seem to notice Tony’s staring, just starting up the car instead, heading back towards Midtown. 

After about five minutes of uncomfortable silence, Tony blurted out, “I’m sorry, should I be saying something? Because you’re very cryptic and I’m not exactly sure what’s going on here.”

“A thank you would be nice.”

Tony slammed his knee on the underside of the dash when he jumped straight off his seat. “Fuck!” he shouted, moving his hands to cup his leg, while his head snapped around to the back of the car. “You need to stop doing that; my heart literally can’t take it.”

The Captain leaned forward from the rear seat, giving a small smile. “Maybe it’s just age.”

“You bite your tongue,” Tony snapped back, causing The Captain to grin wider. Tony rolled his eyes, before looking back to Coulson. And then to The Captain. And then back to Coulson. “No way,” Tony continued, his mouth gaping open. “You’re in with the police? Bribing the good and honest men of the NYPD, are we now? Didn’t seem to peg you as one of those guys, Cap.” Tony couldn’t help but notice a faint flush breeze over The Captain’s face after the use of the nickname.

“He doesn’t pay me,” Coulson retorted, still staring out at the road ahead of them.

“What, does he bring you cookies? Oh, wait; that’s Girl Scouts.”

“Stark,” Tony heard The Captain groan from the backseat.

“Yes, dear?”

“What did Fury want?”

“Nothing to do with you, sweet cheeks.”

The Captain huffed before glaring at Tony. “He wanted to know who bombed Stark. My guess is that he already knows it was HYDRA; he just wanted to see if he could get Stark on his side, use him for information,” answered Coulson.

Tony narrowed his eyes at the driver. “Which I declined, whole heartedly! Fury would just use me until I ended up with a one way ticket to prison.”   

“So he didn’t get anything from you?” asked The Captain.

“Not a word. He’s no closer to HYDRA, let alone even know you’re involved with me. You and your crew are in the clear, Cap.”

Tony smiled softly when he heard a small, “Thank you,” emitted from behind him.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Tony continued. “He knows I’m hiding something, which means he’ll have people watching me. We’re going to have to be more careful about our meetings.”

The Captain nodded in agreement. “You get anywhere with our latest guest?”

Tony scrambled for his phone; he had completely forgotten about the search he sent JARVIS on. Quickly connecting to JARVIS, he asked, “What do you got for me, J?”

“We have a match for facial recognition, Sir. Your mystery man is Brock Rumlow.”

Tony jolted forward as the car came to a screeching halt. “What the hell,” Tony hissed.

“Rumlow. Brock Rumlow,” whispered Coulson.

“You know him?” The Captain questioned.

“He used to be a police officer. Got thrown out of the force a few years back for assaulting his witnesses.”

Tony shared a look with The Captain. “A police officer,” uttered the blonde.

“Maybe you aren’t the only one with their hands in the NYPD.”

“Yeah,” Pierce sat behind his work desk, idly holding his phone between his fingers.

“The transmitter pulled through. We have a location." The Monger's voice carried through the phone. 

“What now?”

“Here’s what I’m thinking. No one’s ever been able to find where The Captain works, right? Where he stores his weapons, where he lives, or where he does his interrogations.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that what if they aren’t different places, but just one, singular place.”

“You think he operates from one location?”

“How else would he have such control over everything? Sure, it’s risky, but there would be no way that anything could happen without him knowing. It’s clean, efficient. He’s able to keep hold on all his reins and keep everyone in line, all under one roof.”

“So this location that we have. It might be The Captain’s actual hideout?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Pierce grinned. “Get another bomb ready.” He hung up the phone and leaned back comfortably in his chair.

A sharp knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Ah, Commissioner,” he said as Fury slipped through his door.

“Chief. You called?”

“Take a seat, Nick. I heard you had a meeting with Stark today. How’d that go?”

Chapter Text

The steady beat of the heart monitor pierced through Steve’s ears. He looked across the bed, watching as Tony Stark flipped through the channels on the small hospital TV.

“Ah, here we go,” Stark said finally. “He loves Downton Abbey.”

Steve smiled softly, looking back at Happy Hogan, Tony’s main bodyguard, still and quiet on his bed. “Have the doctors said anything?”

Stark shrugged. “His body is healing fine; it’s just up to him if he wants to get up or not. If you ask me, he’s taking this nap just to get out of work,” Stark responded with a smile, before looking down at his employee. “What an asshole,” he deadpanned, Steve hearing the underlying affection.

The two had been meeting up in Hogan’s room for over two weeks, deeming it the safest place given their current situation. No one looked twice when they saw Tony Stark slip in to see his friend, and with his resources, Stark faked Steve an ID making him look like any other hospital volunteer. Just in case HYDRA was still watching, the two never came or left at the same time, choosing inconspicuous routes to avoid detection.

Steve had been pretty happy with the calm, a nice reprieve from all of the hectic events that had happened. But it had been two weeks. Two weeks and just, nothing.

No threats, no bombs, no bodies, no HYDRA. It was like they had just dropped off the face off the planet again. While Steve and The Commandos were glad to have the break, each passing day they just sat around waiting was pushing Steve’s paranoia through the roof.

Coulson hadn’t managed to find any files on Officer Rumlow, thus cementing the idea that HYDRA had someone working with them within the precinct. What held Steve on edge more was the fact that Stark hadn’t been digging up anymore dirt either. It seemed that all of Rumlow’s files had been redacted or completely destroyed.

But Steve knew HYDRA. They weren’t in hiding, they were biding their time. Waiting for the right moment to strike. And without any further leads from Rumlow, it seemed they were back to the beginning, left floundering while HYDRA slowly cornered them against a wall. The real question was whether or not they were planning their next move against Stark or against himself. 

Steve leaned back in his chair, biting his nail. HYDRA had the upper hand, and they definitely knew it. It was wearing on Steve’s nerves. He liked to be in control, needed to be in control. How much longer before they strike? How much longer until he wouldn’t be staring at a hospital bed, but a grave?

No.

Steve was stronger now, he was better now. He wouldn’t sit idly by and let HYDRA destroy the family he had left.

He looked across to Stark, who was typing furiously on his phone. Even after these weeks of working together, Steve was nowhere closer to understanding the enigma that was Tony Stark. It seemed that, besides his initial hesitation, Stark was fully invested now. He always seemed to be working, exhausting his resources to get a lead on HYDRA. Steve could see the faint dark rings that lay under the brunette’s eyes, the chestnut orbs going a little dull themselves. Each passing day, Stark seemed to look more and more grim. Not that Steve could blame him; he didn’t doubt he looked exactly the same.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Steve startled, Stark’s voice piercing his inner thoughts. “No, sorry. I- what?”

Stark gave a small smile. “Not sleeping, dear Captain?”

Steve shook his head. “Can’t. Probably won’t until this is over. I mean, it’s been weeks, and nothing has happened.”

“Sounds like we should count our blessings,” Stark replied, frowning as he said it, like he didn't believe the words coming out of his mouth either. 

“I don’t consider it to be a blessing when I know what's to come. I think you know that too. Whatever’s on it's way; it can’t be good.”

Stark nodded, placing his head in his hands.  “I know. This waiting around isn’t doing me any favors either. We could try and draw them out again?”

“Probably not a good move. I mean, the one bargaining chip we had killed himself, so I wouldn’t even know where to start. Besides, now that we now HYDRA is in with the police, God only know where else they have their claws. We draw them out and we could soon find ourselves over our heads.”

“You’re right,” agreed Stark. “God,” he continued, “this is too fucked up. Life was so much easier when you stayed on your side of New York, and I stayed on mine.”

Steve smiled back at the smaller man. “Look at the bright side. My life surely wouldn’t be as interesting.”

Stark gave a hollow laugh. “You’re really just a Hallmark card aren’t you? Actually, no. You’re more like one of those motivational posters. You know, the ones with the cat hanging in the tree? Except ‘hanging in there’ for you is defeating a rival mob instead of staying in school.”

Steve shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Education is important.”

He ignored the glare that Stark shot over to him, knowing that it was fake. He had been around the man enough to read his faces like a book. How his eyes would light up when he talked about the latest project he was working on, his calloused hands flying around animatedly, bringing out the Italian in him. How he unconsciously worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he tapped away on his computers, eyes darting around the screen. How his face would go blank whenever he talked to his business partner on the phone, or when he adorned his face with plastic smiles when he had to go out in public, quite unlike the few small ones Steve had managed to pull from the man. His eyes always looked curious, whenever he looked at Steve, it was like he was trying to take him apart like a machine.

But it’s not like he thought too much about it. Steve had a taste for the arts, and being an artist, of course he could appreciate the different contours of the human face. That was all that was. Right.

“Anyway,” Stark continued with a flourish of his hand, standing up gracefully. “Rumlow had a military background. I’m gonna meet with one of my informants and see if we can dig anything up there. Even if HYDRA has pull in the NYPD, their power can only go so far.”

“Unless they’ve got plants hidden there as well,” Steve responded solemnly.

“God, let’s hope not.” Stark checked the clock on the wall. “I’d give it about a half hour before you can take off, just to be safe. Catch some shut eye,” he said kindly, walking towards the door.

“You worried about me, Mr. Stark?”

Stark shot him an unimpressed glance. “Someone’s got to watch out for you, ya big lug. Can’t have you dozing off when the real battle begins.” He smirked, gaze Steve his customary salute, and slipped out the door.

It was odd, having pleasant conversation with the man. One could say they were almost friendly. Steve could see the extra effort Stark was putting in, and Steve was more than happy to meet him halfway. Although it was never discussed, he and Stark seemed to be on the same page that their first join operation was a complete disaster. With Rumlow dead, and the trail predictably going cold again, the pair made an unspoken agreement to learn from their mistakes and do better. Although he was never vocal about it, Steve was staring to realize that Stark had a lot to risk in this venture against HYDRA; just like he knew Steve does. 

They couldn't let HYDRA get the jump on them again. Neither of them could afford the loss. 

Steve watched as the door closed, listening to Stark’s footsteps fade away. He scooted lower in the plastic chair; the small furniture never letting Steve get comfortable. Steve glanced at the clock before letting his eyes drift shut. Stark was right; a small cat nap would probably help.

Steve was running, his chest burning from his nonathletic body. He didn’t dare stop however, ignoring the pain from his chest and his legs. He pushed through the thick crowds of the New York streets, wiggling through the brief open spaces. Cars honked furiously at him as Steve darted across the street, but he paid them no mind. He pulled away from the crowded streets before heading through a few alleys, running over dumpsters and through clotheslines full of fresh laundry.

When he finally reached his destination, Steve threw the door of the shop open, running past the owner, ignoring the old woman’s protests. He ran into the back room, opened the secret door and flew down the stairs.

Of course, gangly as he was, Steve tripped, falling face first down the law few steps.

“Steve!” a familiar voice shouted as Steve felt soft hands pull him up. “Are you alright?”

Steve, right on the urge of an asthma attack, looked up into the comforting chocolate orbs. “I- ” he tried to start, but was soon cut off by a coughing attack. Soothing hands rubbed along his back paired with small comforts whispered into his ear.

Steve felt his heart rate slow, lifting his head to finally look back at the friendly face. “There we go. All better now.” she said softly.

He nodded, easily getting lost in the peaceful tone of her accented voice. Remembering why he was there, Steve lurched forward, scrambling to get up. “Steve! Steve, wait!” she shouted, trying to pull Steve back from continuing down the hallway.

“No! I need to know!”

“Steve, sweetheart, please. Stay with me, don’t go down there!”

“So it’s true then!” Steve whipped around, his blue eyes ablaze. “Tell me, Peggy!”

Her eyes widened from the tone of his voice. She placed his hands gingerly on his shoulders, her mouth opening, trying to form words. “Steve, come on, let’s go grab a bite. I’m famished, I could go for- ”

“Peggy. Please,” he whispered. Steve’s heart throbbed when he saw her head bob up and down slowly.

Steve tore himself from her warm embrace and took off down the hallway. Reaching the main office, he burst through the door, the occupants startling from his sudden entrance.

“Rogers, what the hell are you doing here?” Phillips snapped. “You told him about this, didn’t you?” The older man yelled as he spun around, pointing a large finger at Bucky.

“He has a right to know!” retorted Bucky, immediately flanking Steve’s side as if to protect his weak friend from the potential threat.

“Phillips. Tell me it’s not true.”

Steve watched as his boss sighed, sitting back behind his desk chair and laying his head in his hands. “It is. Erskine’s death was no accident.”

Steve probably would have doubled over if it wasn’t from Bucky’s strong arms holding him up. “Who was it?” he managed to choke out.

“HYDRA,” Phillips responded. Autopsy report came back. There was cyanide in his system.”

Steve felt Bucky tighten his grip. “But, how is that even possible? Schmidt wouldn’t dare, would he?” Steve continued to press.

“He would,” Phillips sighed. “And he did. Again.”

“What do you mean, again?” Bucky asked, pushing in front of Steve. “What happened?”

Phillips looked up at the two younger men. “Howard’s dead.” 

Steve startled from his dream, almost falling right out of the hospital chair. His chest tightened, the throbbing as painful as if he was still stuck in his scrawny body, unable to protect himself.

Unable to protect them.

Steve shuddered before standing up, scanning the room. Nothing out of the ordinary; just a bleached white room filled with the soft breathing of Tony’s bodyguard.

Pull it together, soldier.

Steve looked to the clock. Close enough. He stepped out the small room, heading down the stairs and outside to breathe in the familiar New York air.

He needed to get back to work.

He would fix it, this time.

He would save them, this time.

He would win, this time.

And then, he would finally get some sleep.

Chapter Text

“Tony.”

“No.”

“Tony- ”

“No, Obie. Stop pushing this.” Tony sat glaring at his business partner from behind his desk. His head was pounding, his body flip flopping between exhaustion and hunger. These past two weeks had been nothing but hell; the last thing Tony wanted to deal with was Obie. 

“I’m sorry, Tony, but I have no choice but to push this. We need to keep moving forward.”

Tony sighed, standing up on tired legs. “We are, Obie. We just finished that huge deal with the military!”

Obie walked around Tony’s desk to clasp his shoulder, his large head leaning in close. “But it’s not enough anymore. Our stock points are still dropping, Tony. We need to do something about this.”

Tony slipped out of Obie’s grasp, walking over to his personal bar. Is it too early to start drinking? Tony shook his head, pouring a generous helping anyway. Tony couldn’t even tell what day it was, let alone the time. Besides, he needed something to keep him grounded.

HYDRA was nowhere to be found. It was driving Tony insane.

He was Tony Stark. He could find anyone and their mother with a flick of his wrist. He could dismantle government agencies if he wanted, hell, even a small nation if he put his mind to it.

But it had been over two weeks, and Tony was nowhere closer to finding any more about Rumlow or HYDRA. While Tony had first admired the challenge, he was now about two seconds from ripping his hair out. Tony could tell The Captain was just as anxious. Their meetings at the hospital were getting more and more repetitive, the two of them just trying to fool each other into thinking they still had the upper hand against HYDRA. And now Obie was breathing down his neck. Perfect.

“Tony, are you even listening to me?”

Tony spun around to face the older man. “Well, I’m just assuming you were yelling at me for something.”

Obie rolled his eyes. “Be serious, Tony.”

“I am being serious, Obie. The stock market isn't always going to be in our favor. Get that stick out of your ass and relax.”

“Tony, Tony, Tony. You’re not looking at the big picture. We can’t keep relying on military contracts to get by. If you want Stark Industries to stay on top, you need to do more.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, shooting Obie his most unimpressed stare. “And that something more is dealing under the table with Manhattan mobs?”

Obie shrugged. “Tony, it’s just another transaction with a different kind of business.”

“No, Obie. I’m not getting involved.”

“Oh, really? How are you not involved already?” Obie scoffed.

“I don’t deal with those mobs, Obie, I just consult. Just some adjustments here, some info there. I never sell full sets of Stark weapons to these people. I mean, they’re criminals, Obie! Do you really want these people running around with the best weapons on the market?”

Obie ran a large hand over his bald head. “And you think selling to the government is any better? You need to get your head out of the clouds, Tony. This is the real world; sometimes you are going to have to get your hands a little dirty to win.”

“This isn’t the way to do it, Obie. I won’t do it.”

Tony liked to think he still had some part of a moral compass left. Sure, he dealt with some mobs, but he’s never made the full leap to dealer. It was too risky. Tony had his government contracts to protect him, but they could only do so much. Fury was already poking around; if Tony starts dealing with the other half of New York, how long until he finds himself behind a cell? All that extra money he would make would do him no good when he finds himself posted with no bail.

Obie makes it sound like the company is headed for the shitter. But they're thriving by living off the military contracts. Key word, contracts. Legal, binding contracts that had enough gusto in it to keep the board happy. Speaking of the board, how happy did Obie think they would be if they found out they were selling there overstock to the gutter rats in New York? There were too many unknown variables, too high of a chance that it would go south. Forgetting morally, it didn't even seem worth it monetarily wise. Sure, New York was littered with different mobs, but compared to the armed forces of the United States? They're no more than a bug on windshield. 

“But, Tony,” Obie’s voice filtered into his head. “Your father- ”

“Oh, let’s not start this again,” Tony snapped.

“Your father,” Obie began again, “went above and beyond to do what was needed.”

“Look what happened! He spent years drilling me, ‘Don’t get involved, Tony. Don’t get involved.’ What a hypocrite. You know what that got him? A bullet in his brain and a half-assed car accident cover up. He was in over his head, and frankly? He got what was coming to him. So don’t ask me again, Obie. I won’t do it.”

Tony snatched his jacket up before storming out of his office and into the nearest elevator. Part of him felt bad; Obie was his mentor, basically his second father. Sometimes Tony would go as far as considering Obie his real father. Howard was nothing more than another reason for Tony to drink.

Maybe Obie was just trying to help, trying to bring Stark Industries to the next stage. But there seemed to be no payoff, and it would put thousands, if not millions at risk. Tony knew that Obie and his father had pulled some daring stunts back in the day to take control of the market, but this was just bat-shit insane. Even with Obie's comments - he couldn't see his dad doing this. His dad had been like him, a consultant, an informant. Unlike Tony, however, he stayed loyal, settling down with one of the old mobs in New York City. 

And look where that got him. Rotting six feet under with the rest of them. 

No, this whole thing didn't sit well with Tony. He was sure Obie would bring it up, the bastard was nothing if not persistant, but he wouldn't win this one. There's only been a few times that he'd have to put his foot down against Obie, but Tony was sure the other man would understand. He always did.

Tony stepped off the elevator and through the front door, breathing in the fresh air. God, he needed Rhodey; someone to sit and think with him, someone to keep him grounded. But Rhodey was redeployed, and although Tony had got in contact with him yesterday about digging up dirt on Rumlow, Tony’s heart ached for his old friend. Pepper of course was still dealing with Happy and the car bomb, not to mention trying to keep Obie off his back as much as possible. Besides, he could only get so far when talking to an AI he created.

Tony sighed, looking down both sides of the street. He took off to the left, hoping to find some solace.

Tony stared at the circuit in front of him. Child’s play, really.

His nimble fingers danced over the tech, mind racing a thousand miles a minute. He couldn’t remember how long he had been sitting there. Not like it mattered; he often lost himself in his work, locking himself away in his endless mind.

He was free there. He was safe.

The door banging open had Tony scrambling from his seat. He watched as his father stomped over to the bar, and downing the closest alcohol, straight from the bottle. Tony had never seen him like this. His father was usually the epitome of class: smart quips, dashing smile, cool demeanor. And of course the raging tempers and cold shoulders that he showed only behind closed doors.

But this man that stood before Tony was nothing like he’d ever seen. Howard was pale, covered in a sheen of sweat, his hollow eyes darting across the room as if expecting someone to jump out at him. When his eyes finally landed on Tony, he jumped.     

“Where the hell did you come from?” Howard snapped.

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Tony retorted, with a roll of his eyes.

“You watch your tone with me, boy.”

Tony rolled his eyes again, electing to ignore his father and go back to his circuit. He hears the shrill tone of his father’s phone echo in the large room, Howard fumbling to answer it quickly.

“Well?” his father nearly shouted. “It doesn’t matter how they know, Phillips, they just do. I need you to take care of this!”

Tony watched as his father paced angrily across the room, his face contorting as he continued his phone call. “Yeah, well I didn’t sign up for this, Phillips. This could ruin me. I don’t care how, but you will fix this.” Howard stopped, setting his hand down to lean against his desk. “Please," he added softly. Tony froze. His father never said please. "I’m counting on you.”

Howard snapped the phone shut, heaving a long sigh. Tony watched as his father stood still in the room, staring blankly at the desk below him. Tony’s mind whirled in confusion, his brain screaming at the familiarity of the name Phillips.

Suddenly, Howard gave a shout of anger, before throwing his phone across the room, the small device smashing to pieces when it came in contact with the wall. Tony jumped to his feet to reply, but Howard charging him had Tony cringing away. Howard knocked his circuit out of his hand before grabbing him by the front of his shirt, pulling Tony close enough for him to smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Now you listen to me. There might be some people that you run into; they’ll want to ask you some questions. I want you to answer them just like the paparazzi: no comment. You got that?”

Tony furrowed his brow. “What kind of questions?”

“Questions about you, about me. You don’t say a goddamn thing, you understand? You don’t know anything, you haven’t seen anything, you have never heard of the SSR- ”

“The SSR?”

“Cut the shit, kid. I know you’ve been poking around my desk; you’ve seen some things you weren’t supposed to. Just keep your head to the ground and your mouth shut and maybe, just maybe, this will just blow over.”

Tony cocked his head. “Who’s after you? Why do you want me to lie? What’s going on?”

Howard growled. “It doesn’t matter. I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it.”

Tony pushed away from Howard. “I don’t take orders from you,” he hissed.

“No, no you don’t. Apparently that’s too much for a father to ask his son.”

“Oh, well excuse me for not living up to your expectations!”

“How dare you raise your voice to me! You know, Steve wouldn’t- ”

Tony threw his hands up in the air. “Don’t you bring him into this! It’s always Steve this, or Steve that. What does one of your simple pages have on your own flesh and blood?!”

“He’s everything that you’re not!”

“Oh, please. Who even knows if this kid is real?”

“He’s the realest person you’d ever meet. He’s honorable, respectful, the perfect soldier, and someone who I would love to call son.”

Tony flinched at Howard’s vile tone. Most of their arguments ended up this way, but it didn’t sting any less each time it happened. Tony knew he was a disappointment to his father, Howard always comparing him to one of his employees, the perfect Steve Rogers.

Tony hated him.

He had never even met the man and he was ruining Tony’s life. If and when he came to face Steve Rogers, it would be at the end of Tony’s gun.

Tony didn’t realize how far he walked until he hit Central Park. Turns out that even years after his death, Howard still managed to plague his thoughts. Not to mention his fight with Obie. And Happy’s coma. And Rumlow’s background. And Fury’s threats. And The Captain and his merry men. And the constant threat of HYDRA.

Tony sighed. One problem at a time, Stark. Just take one at a time.

He checked his watch before changing his route to enter Central Park looking for a familiar face. It wasn’t too long before he found himself in front of a park bench.

Tony couldn’t help but smile. “Wow, you really weren’t joking.”

The Captain jostled against the hard bench, the book he was sketching in sent flying to the ground. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, his shining blue eyes opened wide, glistening in the sunlight.

Tony bent down to pick up the sketch book, idling flipping through the pages. “I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d walk through the park. I remember you mentioned at the hospital once that you like to draw here.”

The Captain flushed, breaking eye contact with Tony. “I was talking with Happy. The doctor said that it helps if you talk with him, that he might hear everything.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You know he doesn’t even know who you are.”

The Captain shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be friendly.”

Tony gave a small laugh. “This seat taken?” he asked, pointing to the bench.

The Captain shook his head, shifting farther to the left to give Tony more room to sit. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. Any luck with Rumlow?”

Tony rubbed at his temple. “No. I’m trying- it’s just, there’s nothing! I’ll keep digging, but I think we’re going to need to step out of our comfort zones.”

The Captain eyes him warily. “What are you suggesting?”

“I think we should run a job.”

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry. You want us to what?” Clint Barton sat in the back of a nearly vacant hospital’s cafeteria, flanked by Bucky and Nat, staring incredulously at a smirking Tony Stark.

Stark rolled his eyes. “What don’t you understand, Barton? It’s not rocket science.”

Clint heard Nat give a small scoff next to him. “The only understanding that’s escaping me right now is why you think I’m going to cooperate with you.”

His response only caused Stark to grin wider. “Ooh, I like you. Can I keep him?” Stark looked to his left, staring at Steve, who had been failing to hide his annoyed face in his hands. Clint frowned, narrowing his eyes at the outsider. Being his first real conversation with the man, it was going just as well as he thought it would. In the weeks since the birth of their tentative work relationship, Steve had handled most of the interactions with Stark. It was difficult letting Steve walk about and about with HYDRA's ranks rising, but Clint knew that the only reason Steve agreed to keep having these outside meetings was to keep Stark away from the family. Considering the last two times Stark visited ended with him pointing a gun at Wilson and a dead body, Clint agreed with him. Meeting outside the base, of course. Meeting and dealing with Stark in general? Now that, Clint had a few opinions on. 

It was clear that Stark's flippancy and overall attitude was taking a toll on Steve. He shouldn't have to deal with this alone. He shouldn't have to deal with it at all. Not with HYDRA nipping at out heels. Ignoring Stark’s comment, Steve looked up at Clint. “You’re going to cooperate because I say so.”

But alas, the stubborn old mule is going to deal with it anyway. 

“Cap,” Bucky hissed, obviously thinking along the same lines as Clint.

“Not now, Bucky.” Steve held out a hand to stop his complaints, rubbing at his temple. Clint frowned at Steve’s appearance. It had been a rough month on everyone, Steve especially.

Clint had always looked up to Steve, thinking of him as the brother he never had. Well, Clint had actually had an older brother at one point, but Clint wouldn’t hesitate to choose Steve every time. They were a family: Clint, Steve, and the rest of The Commandos, each of them easily filling up the holes in the others’ hearts.

HYDRA coming back was enough to put everyone on edge. Clint still had no idea how they managed to get rid of them the first time. They were so young at the time; a mob half-hazardly thrown together, a team consisting of every single clashing personality on the planet.

They should have killed each other.

But they didn’t. They won. The Captain saved the day, Clint got the girl - well, the man - and HYDRA was gone.

But they weren’t gone; HYDRA was still running through the streets of New York. And Clint could see it was killing Steve. Sure, everyone in their right mind was nervous, but Clint hadn’t seen Steve like this since that one time everyone thought he and Nat were dead after agreeing to help Sam with a ‘little family problem’ in Budapest, Georgia. What a disaster that had been.

Steve wouldn’t let the two of them out of his sight for weeks. Weeks. Seriously, that man could put a mother bear in its place. Of course, he was exactly the same when the team was dealing with HYDRA the first time. Sure, Steve hadn’t known half of the people for more than a week before their final showdown with HYDRA, but Steve had never faltered in treating everyone like family. That’s what Clint loved most about Steve. He was so genuine, so loyal; everyone had a place in The Commandos. Clint couldn’t hear, Dernier struggled with English, hell, Nat probably wasn’t a US citizen at the time, but Steve didn’t care. He doesn’t care. Steve saw worth, saw what counted. He didn’t ask about their past, just like they didn’t ask about his. They just fit, always working effortlessly together. Clint owed Steve everything; he knew he would spend the rest of his life trying to give as much back to the man who had saved him.

That’s why, sitting in the empty cafeteria, Clint tightened his grip on the knife he smuggled in. Tony Stark was bad news. Clint knew it, Steve knew it, everyone knew it. Why Steve was even bothering to put up with the man had Clint’s head reeling. Dealing with Tony Stark was basically asking for a one way ticket to hell. It would be easier to just shoot myself, thought Clint.   

“Cap, I don’t like this,” Clint finally responded.

“I’m not asking you to like it, I’m just asking you to trust me.” And wasn’t that a knife in the gut. Clint was convinced Steve was destined to be a superhero with the very useful powers of constant puppy dog eyes and the ability to make anyone feel guilty for anything. Clint hadn’t been to church in decades, but talks like this with Steve had always ended up with him wanting to go to confession. Seriously, dealing with a priest might be easier than facing a disappointed Steve Rogers. And Steve's strength? Clint would be entirely convinced the man was on steroids if he didn’t know Steve personally. Clint had once seen him rip a log in half. In half. In all honesty, if Clint hadn’t been a taken and committed man, he’s pretty sure his pants would have been on the ground.

Clint sighed. “Fine.”

“Good to see we’re finally on the same page,” quipped Stark. “Let’s try this again, shall we? I want you to tell me about the job you were planning on running.”

Clint opened his mouth, but then closed it. Tony Stark lived on information; Clint was not going to be the one to feed him more. This was highly sensitive stuff. How long before Stark turns on them? Who’s to say he wasn’t already working with HYDRA? Now wouldn’t that be a story. Tony Stark dismantling The Commandos from the inside, playing the victim card. Plant one bomb and suddenly you’re just an innocent. Stark had connections, and Lord knows how dramatic that man was when he wanted to be. He inserts his way into Steve’s side, and soon HYDRA would know anything and everything about them.

But that wasn’t the case. Right?

Clint shook his head. There were too many ambiguities in their situation. What if Stark was HYDRA? What if telling him could hurt the team? Could kill them?

It didn’t sit well with Clint. Best not to deal with it.

Clint turned his head to Natasha. “Well, if we’re being technical, it’s your job.”

He heard Bucky snort next to him, knowing his friend probably followed along on the same train of thought.

And hadn’t they been an unlikely duo, Bucky and Clint. Their first meeting had been less than stellar, what with Clint trying to rob Bucky. And then, even after Steve had introduced him to the rest of the team, Bucky was wary of him, always on constant alert whenever Clint had stood too close to Nat or Steve. Of course, they just laugh about it now. Bucky had been worried about him. Clint had the better aim, the better shot, the better jokes. Bucky spent weeks thinking that Clint would replace him, while Clint was worried Bucky was going to kill him in his sleep. After a therapeutic session (which was not so much of a session as much as Nat locking the two of them in the gym until they got their heads out of their asses) of talking, or in their case, beating the shit out of each other, the two left on different terms, being the closest of friends since.

Natasha rolled her eyes at the two of them. “Children,” she whispered under her breath. “What do you need to know?" she asked, not missing a beat. She was always Steve's model student. "Some of my valued sources picked up on a weapons cache, that’s all.”

Stark steeped his head in his hands. “They’re Hammer’s right?” When Natasha nodded, he continued. “Was he buying or selling?”

“Selling to some mob. And no, I don’t know which one.”

Stark frowned at that.

“You think he would sell to HYDRA?” Steve asked, leaning closer to Stark.

Stark shrugged. “Hammer’s an idiot; he’ll do anything to make a quick buck. Besides, HYDRA is probably looking to build itself back up. If I were them, the first thing I would do is get some my hands on some weapons.”

Maybe you are them, Clint thought. 

“That shipment has been here for weeks now. Wouldn’t Hammer have struck a deal already?” Steve continued.

Nat shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything from my sources. Maybe they haven’t reached a deal yet.”

“Or it’s a trap,” Bucky cut in.

“A trap?” Steve asked.

“Think about it,” Bucky continued. “HYDRA was always one for playing dirty. Assuming Hammer is working for them, they tell him to leave a tip that a whole new shipment of his weapons is just sitting around for the taking. We catch wind of it, unable to resist free guns, they catch us in the act and boom. We’re all dead.”

“Grumpy does have a point,” said Stark, looking back over at Steve.

“So how does any of this help us?” Clint questioned.

“Well, we need to find out if Hammer really is working with HYDRA. Get some of his men talking, and they might help us onto another lead,” answered Stark.

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

“You,” Stark retorted, pointing at Nat, “are going to go back out to your sources. Tell them you caught wind of some Stark weapons that didn't get loaded for shipment at this location.” The brunette dipped a hand in his suit before slipping a piece of paper across the table to Natasha.

Natasha narrowed her eyes, picking up the paper. “Why?”

“Are you kidding me? One Stark weapon is worth more than a whole warehouse of Hammer’s shit. He hears that I ‘forgot’ about some boxes, he’ll be racing to snatch them up. That man would probably sell his soul to get five minutes alone to tinker with my guns. We’ll use their own plan against them. Hammer will send some people to pick it up, and- ”

“We’ll be waiting for them,” finished Steve. The blonde turned to look at Nat. “Go; spread the word. We’ll meet up with you later.”

She nodded, gracefully standing up from the table. Clint felt Bucky reach behind him and grab her slim wrist. Without turning around, Clint knew the look Bucky was giving her. The whole ‘stay safe and if you get hurt I’ll kill you myself’ kind of thing. He wasn't exactly sure the full extent of their relationship, despite being best friends with both of them. It wasn't surprising; Clint was sure their secrets had secrets. It took him three years for Natasha to tell him her middle name. But now that he thinks about it, she probably gave him a fake. 

Clint barely felt Natasha leave the room, the redhead already moving so quietly that even his hearing aids weren’t strong enough to pick up on her footfalls.

“Now what?” Steve asked.

“Now,” Stark said, standing up from the table, “we wait. It won’t be more than a few days before Hammer decides to move, if your girl is convincing enough. I’ve got eyes on the place, you just place a few men there and we’ll be right as rain.” Clint watched as Stark tapped idly away at his phone. “Well, my work here is done; time to do more important things.” He waved a hand carelessly at Steve, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “You know how to contact me if there are any problems. See you around, Cap and mutts.”

Clint glared as the man sauntered out of the room. When he heard Steve sigh, Clint looked back to his boss. “Well, that went awesome.” Clint saw a small smile break onto Steve’s face, so Clint considered it a win.

“So this is what we’re going to do, huh? Just sit back and let Stark come in here and take over?” Bucky snapped. Clint flinched slightly at Bucky’s tone, knowing that he and Steve have been pretty tense the last few weeks because of Stark’s involvement.

“No. But that’s what he thinks he can do. Time to change his mind.”

Clint perked up. “What are you thinking?”

“I need you to do something for me.”

Bucky groaned. “Oh, thank god. I’ve been waiting weeks for you to ask me. Don’t worry, I’ll go finish Stark off.”

Steve huffed fondly, smiling at the brunette sitting across from him. “Not what I was thinking, but I’ll keep that one of the back burner, okay?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but Clint could see the warmth in them. “Fine, but if my finger slips on the trigger one day, I will not be held responsible.” Clint jabbed the man in the stomach to get him back on track, which resulted with Clint getting a sharp slap to the back of the head. “What do you need, Stevie?”

“You’re right. Stark getting involved in all of this could be… troubling. The way he's running things right now has him helping us against HYDRA, but let’s be honest. I don’t see the man lying down on the wire for us any time soon. He needs to be the smartest guy in the room: find a way to help, but also have an escape route.”

“What do you suggest?” responded Clint.

“Make him not the smartest guy in the room. He needs to know he’s not the only person with powerful friends.”

Clint felt himself grinning, already knowing where this was heading.

“I need you to call Thor.”

Chapter Text

“Don’t even think about it.”

Steve felt Bucky’s firm hand grip the collar of his shirt, dragging Steve away from his current path to his office and to the stairs, leading him down.

“Buck, come on,” Steve tried to interject, slapping at his friend's firm grip. I don't have time for this. 

“Nope. I don’t wanna hear it. You’re coming with me.”

Steve sighed, but obliged Bucky, knowing him to be even more stubborn than Steve himself. The pair stomped down the wrought iron steps of their base, mostly abandoned because of the hour. Almost everyone had returned home, returned to normal life, if only for an moment. Part of Steve wanted to protest, to keep them here, out of sight and out of HYDRA's reach. But he knew that he couldn't. His desire to keep them safe was the same desire that pushed them to pack up and leave each night, to get home to their real families. People he'd never met, only seen through shared photographs or heard through a phone call. It didn't matter, though; the weight of his responsibility included them as well. 

Bucky tugged on his shirt again, dragging him from his head to focus on the walk through their home. Their base, just some old abandoned warehouse from World War II, wasn’t much, but it was home. It was way too old, the walls and foundation creaking every once in a while, and way to cramped for the size of Steve’s crew.

The main floor of the warehouse had been repurposed to a makeshift gym and training area for the mob, filled with hand-me-down workout equipment and overused practice targets. Sand littered the floor from when Steve went a little too hard with the punching bag, broken windows from a bad throw or two during knife practice, and the air was more than a little stale from the poor ventilation throughout the floor.

A few old offices filled up the rest of the space of the main floor, minus the locker room sized bathroom, which The Commandos had changed into a few bedrooms. They weren’t anyone’s in particular; most of the crew had homes of their own, so the few beds at base were just claimed by whoever ended up there a little too late to be walking home. The bedrooms were cramped and sparse, looking like they belonged more in the Great Depression than in the current century. There were no bed frames, just a few hard mattresses strewn across the ground, covered in nonmatching quilts and old pillows. Alongside the beds was a simple lamp of two, maybe a book or a pair of socks left behind from a previous inhabitant. There was either a dresser of wardrobe, filled with extra clothing of the team. It didn’t matter who it originally belonged too; they all ended up sharing clothes at one point. Natasha once bought a few cheesy pictures in hopes to brighten up the rooms, but they just ended up being used as dartboards.

On the far wall of the main floor, there was a rusty iron staircase, going both up and down. Going down, the steps led to a shady hallway lit by a single flickering bulb, branching off to a few poorly constructed rooms, most likely used for storage during the war. Steve now had the used for their own interrogations, filling the room with one simple chair, the dark rooms made for holding the last breaths of its prisoners.

Following the steps up carried into what used to be an old telegram office. The boys had torn the place apart, taking out everything expect the long sturdy table where the old machines used to sit. Mismatching chairs and stools were pulled around it, making the perfect meeting place for the whole crew. The back wall was nothing more than a makeshift kitchen, Bucky stealing from the main electric lines to keep an always crammed full refrigerator and small oven running. Walking all the way to the back of the room led to the small door for Steve’s office.

Steve’s office, despite only made for The Captain himself, was probably the most used room in the whole building. It was the perfect escape for both Steve and the team. Despite having an apartment with Bucky, Steve found himself crashing in his office each night, never fully able to pull himself away from the job. On top of that usage, everyone on his team had sought out his office every once in a while, usually looking for a place to relax in peace, listening to the quiet sounds of Steve working. A heavy wooden desk with a dusty armchair adorned the back wall, always littered in papers and random notes left for Steve. Ancient rugs covered the floor, always giving off a warm vibe, complementing the awful floral print couch, snatched from the curbside by an extremely intoxicated Dugan and Falsworth, that was so well used that there were permanent indents in it. A bookshelf, haphazardly put together by Bucky, held every type of book imaginable, slowly filled up by different members of the crew. A small dresser sat next to it where Steve always stored extra clothes for when he got too cold in the old warehouse. The best part was the left wall that was covered in different papers. Most were newspaper clippings that Clint started to bring in, articles about the press trying to get a better handle on the mysterious Captain and his Commandos. Clint had laughed as he hung them up, saying it was great that his hard work was appreciated. Other spots were filled with pictures: a passed out Sam Wilson on his birthday covered in toilet paper, Thor clinking glasses with Steve and Natasha in the midst of a drinking contest, a few of The Commandos standing with their families, trying to look normal despite their day jobs. There were also a few snapchats of the past, like failed undercover looks, a few ugly prom pictures, and even one of young Bucky and a scrawny Steve. Whatever wall space that was left was covered in Steve’s doodles. It hadn't been long before the crew figured out one of Steve’s hobbies. They were, after all, great at their jobs, and well, Steve had never been a great liar. Steve had managed to catch them all at one point: Clint and Bucky mid fight, Natasha curled up with a good book, Dugan laughing jovially over dinner, a few of Howard, Erskine, Peggy.

Overall, the place was too small, overcrowded, old fashioned, and out of place.

It was home.

And Steve loved it.

Right now, Steve would have loved nothing more than to curl up on the couch in his office, trying to trick his body into getting some sleep, but Steve knew how it would play out. He would lie on the lumpy cushions until the unwanted energy thrumming through his body would make him too restless, until Steve found himself sitting behind his desk yet again, pouring every piece of information they had for the millionth time.

Bucky, it seemed, had other plans. He dragged Steve down the stairs and into the gym, ignoring Steve’s halfhearted protests. Bucky finally stopped once the two were in the center of the room, inside a well-used boxing ring, reaching out to grab Steve by the shoulders.    

“Now you listen to me, punk. You gotta get a grip, Stevie. You’re starting to slip; people are getting worried.”

Steve pulled out of Bucky’s grasp. “I really don’t have time for you to play mom, Buck. I have work to do.”

“See! There you go again. What work could you possibly have right now? We have no leads, no raids, nothing. Steve, you’re running on fumes. Go home and take a day.”

Steve growled. “I don’t have time to take a day. You damn well know that.”

Bucky chuckled. “Ooh, you really must be worked up if you’re resulting to swearing.”

“I don’t have time for your snark, Bucky. Get the hell out of my way,” Steve retorted with a small shove to Bucky.

Bucky smirked and narrowed his eyes. “No.”

“Quit playing around.”

“The only one playing here, Steve, is you.”

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

"You gonna make me, old man?”

Steve didn’t think, his fist pulling back before throwing a solid punch towards his friend. Bucky dodged easily before twisting around Steve and pushing him down to the mat. “God, you’re rusty. No wonder you’re so grumpy. With technique like that, I’d be mad too.”

Steve let out an angry shout before pushing back off the mat, and into Bucky. Steve and Bucky have been sparring together for years, their similar builds and familiarity of the other usually proved for an even match, but not tonight. Each punch and kick thrown by Steve was fueled by his rage, but Bucky slipped away from each one.

“You’re not focusing. Come on, you’re making this too easy,” chided Bucky, throwing Steve to the mat yet again. Each time his body thudded against the ground, Steve stood up with that much more anger, trying harder and harder to hit Bucky. His large muscles were straining, sweat stinging as it dripped into his eyes. Bucky kept throwing around a few more snarky comments, never hitting back, just using enough force to throw Steve back down to the mat.

“You’re slowing down, Stevie,” soothed Bucky. No matter how much Steve yelled as he fought back, Bucky kelp his voice calm, never yelling back.

“Shut up,” hissed Steve, throwing another jab. Now, his punches weren’t hitting close to Bucky, the brunette not even having to step out of the way for some of them.

“Just stop fighting, kiddo.” Another miss.

“Take it easy, Steve.” Air punch.

“You’re slipping.” Steve ran through Bucky and into the ropes.

“Relax.” Bucky swiped a leg until Steve ended up on the ground.

“Slow down, Steve.”

“I CAN’T!” Steve finally shouted. “Can’t you see that?!” Steve was gasping for breath, his whole body trembling, but he couldn’t discern if it was from the spar or just his overwhelming emotions. “I can’t sleep, Buck. I won’t sleep. The last time I went to sleep with the threat of HYDRA around, Bucky, I woke up and everyone was dead! Why won’t I slow down? Because we were too slow last time. I can’t do it again, I can’t! How long, Bucky? How long do I have to wait before it happens again? How long before I have to go home to someone’s family and tell them that they won’t be home for dinner? How many more graves will I have to dig? I have to be stronger, be better. I just- I… I can’t- ”

Steve broke off when strong arms swooped him into a huge hug. “There it is,” he heard Bucky whisper, but Steve could barely hear it over his gasps and shudders.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he stood there, collapsed in Bucky’s arms, while his friend hummed an old tune his mom used to sing to him when he was sick. It was so achingly familiar, Bucky always there to save him, to protect him. Even from himself.

“Come on,” Bucky said into his ear, pulling Steve gently towards one of the bedrooms. “Something tells me you won’t have trouble sleeping tonight.” Steve went without hesitation, still too caught up in his friend’s warmth. Steve should have realized what Bucky was doing; he did it all the time when Steve was nothing more than a twig. Steve was too passionate, too head strong and stubborn. He would bottle everything up until he just about exploded, getting Steve caught up in way too many fights. Bucky would take him home and clean him up each time, pestering Steve to take better care of himself. It wasn’t too long before Bucky started to provoke him, getting Steve to fight him, let the weaker man get in a few punches, both tiring Steve out as well as keeping him safe from picking a fight with a stranger. Turns out some things never change.

“Out,” Bucky snapped. Steve lifted his head to see a poor Commando waking up from his slumber, seeing Steve and Bucky, and making a hasty retreat.

“Buck,” Steve tried to complain. “I could have gone upstairs.”

“Shut up, he can go somewhere else. Let me take care of you, ya jerk.”

A small smile tugged on Steve’s lips. “Punk.”

Bucky pushed Steve in front of one of the beds, before spinning Steve around to face him. “Are you gonna listen to me now? Or am I gonna have to beat your ass again?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Technically, I don’t think you managed to throw a punch.”

Bucky shrugged. “Did you see you out there? You were doing enough damage yourself. Now listen up, Cap. This isn’t then. This is now. I don’t care if you think this is God’s punishment, or another second chance; just accept that it’s happening. It’s time to get your head out of your ass. You’re not alone, Stevie. I’m still here, we’re all still here. And, well, I don’t know about the rest of the team, but I don’t plan on going anywhere, anytime soon. We are faster, we are stronger. We’re gonna beat this, you’ll see. Have I ever lied to you?”

Steve huffed affectionately. “I can think of a few instances at Coney Island that ended up with my head in a trashcan.”

Bucky smacked him on the side of the head. “You’re not alone, Steve. Don’t ever feel like you have to be. I’m with you till the end of the line.”

Steve let his head fall forward onto Bucky’s shoulder. Even when he had nothing, he still had Bucky. “Thank you, Buck. Really.”

Bucky patted his back before pushing him back up. “Yeah, well someone’s gotta keep you in line. Now come on, in the bed. Time for us to get some shut eye, before I grow a conscience and decide you’re too smelly to sleep next too.”

Steve laughed softly before collapsing on the bed, smelling in the acquainted smells of his team, his eyes already drifting shut. He could vaguely hear Bucky push another bed next to him before clambering on top.

Steve smiled behind closed eyes as the sounds of Bucky’s familiar snores lulled him off to a well-deserved sleep.

Chapter Text

“It's been almost a month. I’m sure you can understand why I’m not too happy.”  Pierce tapped his fingers in annoyance against the dark wood of his desk. His tired eyes swiveled across the room, barely furnished and impersonal. Of course, that was what he was going for. While usually he found it ironically the safest to direct HYDRA proceedings within the walls of the NYPD precinct, Pierce had often, perhaps too often, ended up at other discrete locations in order to safely conduct business. He wasn’t sure which one he was at now, not like it mattered. His men were outside, guarding the door. There were no wiretaps, no bugs, no threats. He was safe here; HYDRA was safe.

Unfortunately, that didn’t make Alexander Pierce feel any better. Weeks ago, Pierce thought they had finally won; they had finally hit the jackpot. They had a potential location on The Captain’s hideout. Hook had cornered Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. For good this time.

Which is why, almost a month later, Pierce found himself losing it. They had done nothing. Nothing. The Captain and Stark have continued to flaunt about the city without a single care in the world. While Pierce had initially agreed with The Monger to wait on their information, Pierce found himself about two minutes from putting a bullet in the man’s head.

“Relax. You’re getting cabin fever.” Over the phone, The Monger managed to sound even more menacing than usual. However, his calm and controlling voice was doing Pierce no favors today. He was in charge of this. Him. There was no reason why they were waiting on this. They were all there for the taking! With the chance of wiping out both The Commandos and Tony Stark, there was no time to dawdle. 

“I’m done relaxing,” hissed Pierce. “We’ve waited too long; The Captain and his crew are probably long gone by now.”

“You know that isn’t true; you know The Captain far too well to know that he won’t pack up shop until the job is done. You just want to go in there guns blazing, as usual.”

Pierce narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

An empty chuckle reverberated through the phone. “Well, I seem to recall that didn’t work to well the last time you tried it.”

How could I forget? He'd seen the bodies - what was left of them. When Schmidt had initially approached him, he'd thought the man out of his mind. What he knew, what he was planning on doing; it all seemed like it came right out of a book. But he owed that man everything. He'd pulled back the curtain for Pierce, showed him a world far more sophisticated and powerful than he could have ever imagined. 

"Let me guide you," he told Pierce one night, his accent like a calming lullaby. "Let me show you your full potential." 

With his ideas, Schmidt could have had everything. He should have had everything. And he would have made Pierce his number two. Pierce remembered waiting, pacing by the phone all night to hear the good news. The news of a successful mission. But instead, he wasted away in the night, dropping off to sleep, only to wake up to a very different story. He could barely believe what he heard on the news: 'The End of HYDRA?' flashed on the scrolling ribbon beneath the newscaster, as he rambled on about the bodies found. He had sprinted all the way down to the precinct, a fool's errand, praying that the program had been wrong. 

But it wasn't. All that preparation, all that hard work. Gone, in a blink of an eye. Or in Schmidt's case, in the firing of a gun. 

“Schmidt was in over his head, was too power hungry," Pierce replied. "But his ideals were enough to survive. We’re better this time, we’ll win this time.”

“That we will. If we wait.”

“For whatever reason?” snapped Pierce.

“You ever been hunting? What happens when you catch the buck’s attention? Do you charge in for the kill? No. You freeze, and wait in the bushes. You wait and you wait and you wait, and then it happens. The perfect moment. That moment, that slip up, when the buck looks away, and returns to his grazing. And then? You put a bullet in its heart. You and I both know how smart The Captain is. And with Stark at his side, their combined paranoia will have The Commandos on their toes for ages. The stress will get to be too much; The Captain will slip. That’s when we move in.”

Pierce sighed, knowing that yet again, The Monger was right. He had put more men out recently after the Rumlow debacle to try and keep up with The Captain and Stark again, even to try and look into the other members, but to no avail. The Captain was keeping them close. “For how long?” he asked, rubbing at his aching temple.

“You’ll know when the time is right.”

Pierce breathed in deeply. He had to keep his cool, had to keep in control. Usually Pierce wouldn’t reach out to outside parties for assistance, but the revival of HYDRA had not been easy, what with The Captain and now Tony Stark standing in the way. Getting Hammer and The Monger on board was pretty easy, with the end of The Captain and his crew being a common goal they all shared. And now, with the added bonus of offing Tony Stark as well, Pierce seemed to have his hands full of allies. Of course, Pierce still wanted to run the show, keeping his cards close to give him slight leverage. Pierce and his closest HYDRA companions were the only ones who knew about The Captain’s true identity.

Steve Rogers.

While most would think of it as any ordinary name, in the mob world, it was anything but. If Hammer or The Monger caught wind of who The Captain really was, it would mean bad news for Pierce. It wouldn’t be long before one or both of them went to just snatch Rogers off the street before Pierce even had time to think about making a move. No, Steve Roger’s name was the only thing keeping Pierce in the game, the only thing keeping him in charge.

Steve Rogers was an old name, whispered around the streets of New York. By all accounts, he was supposed to be dead, buried deep after his history with the SSR. How he survived was a miracle by itself. He had always just assumed that he'd died after his run-in with Schmidt. Pierce still remembered how long it took him to actually believe that Steve Rogers was still alive and walking around New York.

Steve Rogers was a prize crop. He knew people, he knew things. The SSR held records on probably every different mob that was running through New York, probably even other major cities. And that’s not even getting started on their connections. The SSR had people all over the country, all over the globe. Pierce had once heard that the SSR had managed to infiltrate the Pentagon. They were everywhere and nowhere, always ready.

And then Schmidt happened. And the secrets of the SSR were lost forever. Well, thought to have been lost forever. Steve Rogers held the key to the SSR. He held the key to running New York.

And Alexander Pierce wanted it.

So Steve Roger’s identity will stay with him. Hammer and The Monger will take care of Stark and the rest of The Commandos, and then they will deliver The Captain to him. And finally, Schmidt's vision would be realized. About damn time. 

Pierce sighed again with a small nod of his head. “If you say so.”

The Monger began to reply but Pierce didn’t hear it on account of Hammer bursting through the door.

“What the hell?” hissed Pierce.

“Who is it?” demanded The Monger.

“It’s Hammer,” continued Pierce as he put The Monger on speaker phone. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Hammer tried to catch his breath, collapsing in the chair across Pierce’s desk. “I’ve got news. My people caught wind of some Stark weapons that missed its shipment. And I know where they are.” The man grinned wildly, obviously proud of his work.

“So?”

Hammer rolled his eyes. “Did you hear me? Stark weapons. Stark. I get my hands on just one of those babies and we’re in business. I reverse engineer the thing, and boom. We’re walking around with the best weapons on the market.”

“If you believe that rumor, then your people are dumber than I thought.”

Hammer glared at the phone. “Excuse me?”

“There are no misplaced weapons. Stark doesn’t misplace weapons. Not to mention that he hasn’t had any contracts since the military one last month. He’s drawing you out Hammer. The Captain and his boys want another toy to play with.”

Pierce narrowed his eyes. “What makes you so certain?”

A deep sigh echoed over the speaker. “I know Tony. He’s smart and slippery, but his arrogance will be the death of him. He spreads a fake rumor expecting you to show up with one of two guys, hardly a problem for The Captain’s men. My suggestion? Turn the tables. Bring a force, take them by surprise, and lay waste to the joint.”

Hammer scoffed. “Oh, and you’re a resident expert on Anthony Stark?”

The door opened again, startling the other two men. Through the door walked Obadiah Stane. He shut his cell phone and grinned sharply. “I’d like to think so. Gentlemen? Let’s talk.”

Steve Rogers knew that with each passing day, he learned more about Tony Stark. But if there was one thing that he knew for certain, was that the man loved to talk. Steve had seen him both start and finish a conversation himself before he could even get a single word in. It seemed to be his go-to no matter what mood he was in. A happy stream of babble when he was happy, awkward rambling when he was nervous, viscous barbs when he was angry. 

So, the fact that it had been over ten minutes and hadn’t said a single word didn’t sit well with Steve.

Clint had done as Steve asked, and called Thor. Thor, luckily enough, was in the states on business with his family anyway, and was more than happy to pay The Commandos a visit.

Thor Odinson was the heir to probably one of the biggest energy companies in the world, Asgard. Thor’s family, who started the company in some small town in Norway, had managed to transform it into one of the largest the world had ever seen. Their tech brought the world into a new era of cheap and efficient electricity, not to mention the groundbreaking work they've started on green energy.  

Asgard was one of the top in the business, and a huge rival of Stark Industries. While the company’s concentrations were completely separate things, the two had still managed to bump heads. Although making billions in weapons, Stark tinkered in tech and energy, revolutionizing the use of arc reactor technology. And, of course, while Asgard usually just dealt with electricity, Thor’s father had dabbled into weaponry, making quite a pretty penny over in Europe.

So, of course the two companies were constantly at each other’s throats. They were both monopolies in their division; no company stood a chance in taking them out. What else was there to do besides go after each other? Stark keeps trying to convert the world to solely his tech, while Asgard constantly tries to steal Stark’s weapon contracts.

Now that he found himself sitting between the two and their staring contest, Steve itched for his gun. There was a high probability that this turns bloody very quickly.

After what seemed like an eternity, Stark turned to face Steve with a grim expression. “Weapons dealer?” he asked in a strained voice, pointing over at Thor.

Steve nodded. And wouldn’t that be a knife to the gut. Steve and his men turning to an energy company for guns rather than an actual weapons dealer. But Steve and Thor go way back. Steve had first run into the hulking blonde years ago, when Asgardian tech started making its way across the pond. Asgard usually did business over on the eastern hemisphere, so when Steve heard that Thor and his father were coming over to globalize their market, Steve thought he had hit the jackpot. Not being a native to the area, Asgard’s security were no match for Steve and Bucky, the two easily breaking in to their storage. Steve and Bucky planned on stealing the weapons and tech they had brought across with them. What they hadn’t planned on was running into Thor as they were leaving.

Now Steve and Bucky were both in pretty good shape, but Thor basically had a body of a god. After making a quick distraction, Steve forced Bucky out with whatever he could carry while he tried to fend off Thor. The fight that ensued was probably one of the worst one Steve had been in, both of the men almost killing each other several times.

How the stalemate of a fight had led Steve to another friendship still boggles his mind. Bucky, of course, had come back for Steve, stopping Thor from placing a deadly blow to Steve’s skull. And Bucky, with his silver tongue, managed to calm Thor down enough to turn the table. Bucky convinced Thor that since it was so easy for just two guys to break in and steal their stuff, Asgard wouldn't last a week against the rest of the mobs in New York, knowing that half of them were connected to his rival, Tony Stark. Which is how, instead of leaving with two bullets in their brains, Steve and Bucky left with a security job for The Commandos and more tech than they could carry. And so began the deal between Asgard and The Captain. Steve and his men would provide heavy security and protection for Thor and his company whenever needed, while in return, The Commandos got tech, weapons, basically anything they could ever want. And of course, the lasting friendship with Thor was a nice bonus.

“Of course. Of fucking course,” Stark hissed.

“What, are you jealous, Stark?” Thor retorted with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t start,” interjected Steve.

“You get your weapons from Asgard? Asgard? Do you know who these people are, Cap? These people are the lowliest scum of the Earth. Honestly, I’d be less insulted if you worked with Hammer.”

Steve shrugged, not letting himself back down against Stark. “I don’t know, I like him.”

Thor looked at Steve with an easy grin. “I find your company most pleasant as well, Captain.”

Stark scoffed at Thor before glaring back at Steve. “You know the last time we saw each other he tried to kill me with a hammer?”

Thor crinkled his brow. “You we're asking for it.”

Steve couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips, but he quickly muffled it when he saw Stark’s jaw tighten.

“Why did you think this was a good idea?” snapped Stark.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think it was a good idea, but it was a necessary one. You need to fall in line and realize you aren’t in charge here. I am. You aren’t the only one with friends in high places; you aren’t the only one with connections. I run the show around here, and it’s time for you to play your part, not mine. If my regular intimidation won’t work on the infamous Tony Stark, I’ll just have to try a little harder. You keep getting my dirt on HYDRA and I’ll keep Thor from dismantling Stark Industries until there’s nothing left but ash.”

And there it was again. The silence. Steve could see the range of emotions flashing across Stark’s eyes until there was nothing left. Emptiness. Just the hollow face that Steve had seen the first time he met Stark. The one that he hadn’t seen in weeks.

“Fine,” Stark said softly.

Steve wasn’t expecting that. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy. Tony Stark was never one to walk away from a fight. He'd once seen the man bicker with a hotdog vendor over the quantity of napkins he was given. “Fine?”

Stark nodded his head once. “Yep,” he said with a pop of his mouth. “We’re done here.”

Steve stepped in front of him before he could reach the door. “What do you mean, we’re done?”

Stark shrugged. “You said it yourself, Captain. You’ve got Asgard on your side.”

“So?” Steve tried to prompt Stark in the right direction.

“So you don’t need me.”

Steve froze.

Uh oh.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. “I never said that,” Steve said quickly.

“Then I’ll say it. Was any of it real? Or was I just an added bonus for blondie over there?” Stark snapped.

Steve flinched at the harsh tone. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You didn’t need me. You used me. Hoping to take down two birds with one stone? Why stop with HYDRA when Tony Stark was just sitting a couple blocks down the road?”

Steve shook his head trying to reach out for the man. “Stark, calm down- ”

Stark slapped his hands away, moving past Steve and to the door. “No. You wanted me to fall in line? I’ll do you one better. I’ll fall out of your way completely. Good luck with your HYDRA infestation. Make sure to send me a postcard from prison. That is, if you’re not already dead first.”

“Stark, wait! Tony!” Steve’s pleas were cut off as Stark slammed the door behind him.

Steve stared at the closed door as Thor walked up behind him to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I take it that was not supposed to have happened?”

Steve sighed. “No, Thor. No it was not.”

Chapter Text

“Son of a bitch!”  Tony stomped through his office, slamming the door with a large bang. Not even stopping to take off his jacket, Tony made a beeline to his personal bar. His hands shook with anger as he poured himself a large portion, only to opt to drink straight from the bottle.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

Tony growled as he took another swig. Honestly, Tony had seen The Captain do some stupid shit over the last month, but this takes the cake.

I mean, Asgard. Really?

Tony closed his eyes, trying to regulate his heartbeat. Somewhere inside, the rational part of his brain was trying to calm the raging storm in his head. The Captain had only known Tony for less than a month; obviously he would have needed a dealer before this shit storm. Tony had never thought twice about it. Maybe it wasn’t even the fact that The Captain and his crew dealt with Asgard, it was just the point of rubbing it in Tony’s face.

While Tony saw his work in very high regard, he held himself to a pretty low standard. Tony knew he was nothing special; his dad has spent plenty of years drilling that into his brain. Living as he was, it was easy to forget that he wasn’t unique, that he wasn’t one of a kind. He wasn’t the only big guy walking around that had weight to their name. Leave it to The Captain to get a few words in to remind Tony that he isn’t any better than the homeless than sift through his trash.

See, Tony may have liked Thor at one point, with his huge smile and innocent foreign thing he had going on. But it was just politics, your typical Shakespeare scenario. Their parents hated each other so it only made sense that Romeo and Tybalt wouldn’t get along. And yes, of course Tony was Romeo in this situation. I mean, look at me. Honestly.

What really got under Tony’s skin was how successful Asgard was. It wasn’t like their products were compete shit like Hammer’s, but it was just average. There was no way they should have made it as far as they did, no way they should be breathing the same air as Tony. But despite all of that, Asgard managed to skyrocket in profit over the last few years, what with Thor’s easy charm and his brother’s silver tongue. It’s just a scam. They take average equipment and magic it into top of the line products. It’s like that shit with Ikea. Call a hunk of wood some fancy Swedish name, throw in an allen wrench and boom: you think you’re dealing with the Picasso of furniture. It’s just a fucking table. There was no skill behind what they did, just some smoke and mirrors and posh words.

Tony was very adamant about his position on Asgard, one that he lectured on immensely. Hell, even Thor knew what he thought of them. Tony shuddered at the memory, how years ago him and Thor almost brought both of their companies toppling down to the ground.

It was in New Mexico, both Asgard and Stark Industries both one of the many companies that attended a large expo. Tony was still at MIT, his young gawky body still trying to fill out, but his mind already carrying as much arrogance and venom as his father, who he attended the expo with. It was the first time he had ever met Thor, the already huge teen bulking besides his own father, screaming with pride and foolishness.

While their fathers went off to conduct business at the expo, Tony and Thor had managed to come to blows. Well, if Tony remembered correctly, it started with a comment from his asshole brother. Regardless, it ended with Thor trying to brain Tony with an industrial hammer and Tony trying to run the foreigner down with his father’s latest roadster, both men causing the near destruction of a small town. The aftermath that ensued landed both Tony and Thor with another red mark on their already stained police records and with a horrendous shaming from the business world for years. Howard unleashed a fury Tony had never seen before, leaving him to crawl back to MIT to lick his wounds, not returning home until after his graduation. From what Tony heard, Thor got cut off from Asgard for months until he returned with some sense of ‘honor’ or some shit.

So, yeah, their first and only meeting had been less than stellar. But from what Tony had seen with The Captain today, it was like staring him down in New Mexico again. Tony didn’t want any part of it.

Fine. Whatever. The Captain can just go on his merry way with his friends. He’s going to get them all killed. Not that it’s any sweat of Tony’s back. He didn’t need The Captain. He didn’t need them. Tony would do it himself.

Stark men are made of iron, boy.

If The Captain wanted to play dirty, then so be it. The only person worth protecting is me. The Captain could just go toe to toe against HYDRA without him, and Tony would do as he’s always done: survive.

Tony slumped against the closet wall, letting his weight slide him down to the floor, his hands still white-knuckling his scotch.

“Sir?”

Tony sighed. “Not now, JARVIS.”

“Of course, Sir. I just thought you might like to know that all of the heat sensors have been triggered at your old warehouse.”

Well, whoop-de-fucking-do. “Don’t care, J. The Captain’s thugs will take care of them.”

“As you say, Sir.”

Yet again, silence engulfed Tony as he sat alone on the floor. He took another long drag of alcohol. There was just too much in his head, too much clutter, too much pain. Would it be too much to ask to just stop thinking for a while? But that was Tony’s brain; the price of having a genius mind was that it never sleeps. It’s always running, always calculating, looking for- wait.

Tony lifted his head. “Hey, J?”

“Sir?”

“Did you say all the heat sensors?” When Tony had told Romanov what warehouse to use, he spent the rest of the day rigging up the place. Each entrance was wired with heat sensors and top of the line cameras, able to spot anyone and anything that tries to get into the joint. Connecting the system to JARVIS and their phones, Tony and The Captain would know whenever someone laid their first steps on the property.

“Yes, Sir. It seems that there are signatures coming from each of the entrances to the warehouse.”

Well that doesn’t sound right. Tony stood up and reached for his tablet that sat upon his desk.  “Pull it up, J.” JARVIS brought up security footage, giving Tony video from every angle of the building.

Uh oh.

Unless Romanov spread a half ass lie, there should be no more than three guys breaking into Tony’s place. “Give me a count.”

“Fifteen, Sir.” Why the hell were fifteen of Hammer’s men breaching the warehouse? This shouldn’t be happening. Tony had made sure the warehouse he chose was free of security or and shipping employees. The trail of bread crumbs he left Hammer was almost embarrassingly easy. There would have been no reason for that extra firepower. 

Unless they knew it was a rouse.

“Fuck,” Tony whispered to himself. He only cursed himself again as he watched The Captain, along with Barnes and Barton, slip over the metal fence against the back of the property. This wasn’t good. The Captain must have gotten the notification, assuming that he and his men should be able to take on Hammer’s mediocre firepower. Keyword: should. Tony had told him it would be safe. Tony had told The Captain not to worry. Now he and his right hand men were about to walk into a blood bath.

Why do I care?

Tony was done with them. The Captain certainly hadn’t done any favors for Tony; he didn’t owe them anything.

If you don’t do anything, they’ll die.

Tony rubbed at his temple. “Numbers?”

“Running a simulation, The Captain and his men have an 11.7% success rate.”

“Fuck,” Tony hissed again, immediately going for his phone. He had The Captain’s number halfway dialed before he tossed the phone away.

Don’t call; it will give away their position.

Don’t call; who gives a shit what happens to them.

Tony groaned, and started to pace the length of his office. “I need to do something.”

You don’t need to do anything.

“They’ll die.”

“They were asking for it.”  Thor’s voice asked in Tony’s ears.

“I should warn them.”

Why? You owe them nothing.

“The Captain can’t stop HYDRA if he’s dead.”

Caring is a weakness.

“I don’t care; I’m just thinking about it from a business standpoint!”

Stop pretending to be a hero. You’re a coward.

“Sometimes cowardice is key.”

Don’t get involved.

“I’m not! I just- ”

Don’t get involved.

“But- ”

Don’t get involved.

“Get out of my head!” Tony shouted, picking up the scotch bottle and throwing it against the wall. He watched as the glass shattered into millions of pieces, the amber liquid splashing all over the walls and carpet as Howard Stark laughed inside Tony’s head.

Tony gasped for breath as he squeezed his head. He glanced up to look at his tired and crazed eyes at the mirror adorning the far wall. Tony took one last deep breath before making up his mind.

Tony Stark was many things, but there was one thing that he wasn’t.

Tony Stark was not his father.

Tony raced to his desk, snatched up his phone and his sidearm. He raced down to his car, jumping over the door and into the driver’s seat through the open top. Tony found himself stopping however, when he looked down at his phone. Who the hell am I supposed to call? Rhodey was redeployed, Happy was in a coma, and Tony certainly wasn’t going in there by himself. Now would really be a good time to have access to some expendable red shirts.

Tony froze. Oh, fuck me. Tony started typing a few commands to JARVIS, searching for a phone number. Tony might not have any friends at the moment, but that didn’t mean The Captain didn’t. Number secured, Tony pushed the phone to his ear.

“Who is this?”

“Where are you, Odinson?”

“Stark, what the hell is- ”

“Why aren’t you with The Captain?”

“Why, have some unfinished business you- ”

“I don’t have time for your shit. Why aren’t you with them?”

Tony ignored the long sigh on the phone. “The Captain said he had business to attend to, and cut our meeting short.”

“And you didn’t think you should have gone with him to that business?!”

“Stark, what are you on about?”

“Where are you? I’m coming to get you. Find some lackeys and find some guns.”

“Why would I do anything you ask?”

“Don’t do it for me. Do it for The Captain,” snapped Tony. “He’s about ten minutes from getting his head blown off, so cut the shit and give me a location.”

There was a short silence over the phone before Thor gave his response. “I’m at our office. I’ll meet you out there as quickly as I can.”

Tony hung up, throwing the phone into the passenger seat and tore out of the driveway towards Asgard’s New York office.

“If we ever get out of this alive, I’m going to kill you,” Bucky hissed next to him.

“Sounds good to me,” Steve retorted, ducking down at the last second as bullets flew over their heads. Even though he couldn’t see Clint, Steve could hear the occasional swear or taunt from above them.

This shouldn’t be happening.

Steve was in his office when he got the notification that Hammer’s men had activated the sensors. He thought about calling Stark, but Steve’s foolishness probably burned the bridge with that relationship. The least he could do was stick to the plan and protect the man's warehouse and weapons. Later, when they'd brought home a few of Hammer's men, maybe Steve could use them as an enticing apology. Sorry I pissed you off but hey, look, I brought you a present! As planned, be grabbed Clint and Bucky, both overly proficient in the field, which should have made this job a cake walk. Instead, the three men walked into the warehouse to be met with a small army of Hammer’s men.

There was a still moment in the building, unspoken 'What the hell are you doing here?' asked by both parties before the warehouse exploded in gunfire. The math was simple; the cover they'd been lucky enough to be by was nice, but it wouldn't last. Not with the numbers that Hammer had. And of course, no one thought to bring their phone in case they dropped it, not wanting to leave any evidence. ("You kidding me?" Bucky said, throwing his phone on the table. "I'm not giving Stark any other chances to build a case against me. If I piss him off, I don't want to end up in jail the next day.") Of course no one thought to bring extra ammo. ("Why would I need any?" Clint asked. "Maybe you do, your aim is terrible," he laughed at Steve.) Why would they? Turn the tables. Use their plan against them, Stark had said. It’ll be easy, Stark had said.

If Steve lived long enough to see Stark again, he’d kill him.

Another bullet flew past the two men taking cover behind some shipping boxes.

“Any ideas?” Bucky shouted over the gunfire.

No.

Steve had nothing. He was on his last clip, their cover was being blown to smithereens, and there was no possible way to get the any of the exits without getting a few rounds pumped into them.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve lied. “Give me a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute, Steve!”

A pained shout from above got both of their attention. Bucky moved automatically, trying to make a break for the stairs to reach Clint.

“Wait!” Steve grabbed his friend and pulled him close against him as another spray of bullets landed where he should have been standing.

“We have to get to Clint,” snapped Bucky, writhing against Steve.

“Okay, okay.” Bullets rained over them, glass shattering and boxes exploding all around. Steve could vaguely hear the shouts of Hammer’s men over the pounding of blood in his own ears.

Think, think. You’re running out of time. Your men are going to die. Think. It’s going to happen again. Think. Don’t think. There's no time.

Steve grabbed Bucky by his shoulders. “Count to five and then run.”

Without waiting for a response, Steve gripped his gun tightly, took a deep breath and jumped from cover. He raced blindly over to the right, drawing fire away from Bucky as he sprinted to another set of crates. His muscles burned as he ran across the last few steps, diving behind the wooden barricades.

Not even waiting to catch his breath, Steve hopped up behind the crates, the new angle giving him a clean shot on two men that were still after Bucky, who was charging up the far stairway to get to Clint. He took them down easily, watching as Bucky made the last few steps up to the upper catwalk where Clint was. Listening in, Steve could hear a few familiar sounding rounds go off from above, Bucky attempting to clean out the rest of the threats from the second level. Luckily for his men, the catwalk was too covered for anyone to get a clean shot from the main floor, while Steve’s position was less than stellar. Trapping himself downstairs with upwards of seven armed men left may not have been his best plan. Your men are safe. It was worth it.

Steve would like to think that Bucky would just take off through the second story exit with Clint and flee, but he already knew that wasn’t going to be the case. Those two would be flying back down the stair any minute now, regardless of Clint’s injury, to help their boss out. They were loyal like that. They were stupid like that.

Running back down those steps would be a kamikaze mission; Steve needed to keep the shooting aimed at him. Which of course would be easy. If he had any bullets left. Steve stared down at the useless gun in his hands. He could hear Hammer’s men moving around the warehouse, most likely getting ready to flank him. Their heavy steps drew closer and Steve found himself out of time, out of options. Steve looked frantically around, looking for anything that could help, when something caught his eye.

Steve needed to get his men out of there, regardless of the cost. Who says he needs a gun to do that? Leaning to the left, he snatched up the lid of an industrial barrel, holding it against his chest.

Close enough.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the first man to step behind his cover. When he heard a guy to his left, Steve sprung up using the added weight of his makeshift shield to throw the other man to the ground. Not waiting another breath, Steve spun the lid in his hand, bringing it down hard on the man’s skull. He reached for the gun left behind, snapping it up to face the open warehouse, shield raised and ready in his other hand.

 What Steve wasn’t expecting was the empty warehouse when he spun around. Where did they go? his mind raced. Did they rush upstairs? Did they flee? There should be more, there was definitely-

A gun cocked behind him.

Shit.

Steve froze. Instinctively, he wanted to turn around, but knew that any single movement could lead to his death. He couldn’t help the flinch that he gave when he felt the butt of the gun against his back. Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Bang!

Steve flinched again at the sound, but felt no pain. He blinked his eyes open as he felt the weight on his back leave him and fall to the ground, making a solid thud sound. Steve spun around again, cocking his gun, only to be met with-

“Stark?”

Sure enough, Tony Stark stood on the other side of the body, gun in his hand. The other man rushed forward, pushing Steve back and pulling him down to his original cover. “What the hell are you doing?” Stark hissed.

Steve barely found it in him to answer, his mouth still wide in shock. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Not the time, Cap. The rest of Hammer’s men ran upstairs. We need to move.” Steve watched as Stark expertly changed clips, reloading both his and Steve’s gun with practiced ease. When Stark caught him watching, he responded. “What, didn’t think I knew how to hold a gun? My family company manufactures weapons; my father didn’t exactly give me Legos to play with growing up. Now, can we go?” Stark gestured to the stairway where gunfire had picked up again.

Steve nodded, grabbing his gun back and taking off after Stark. “We need a plan. Bucky and Clint are outnumbered out there.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” responded Stark. Steve looked at him questioningly, but stopped when he heard a familiar jovial laugh carried over the gunfire.

Steve whipped around to face Stark. “Thor?”

“Yep.”

“But I thought- ”

“I do.”

“But then why- ”

“Because. Now, chop-chop, let’s go!” Stark pushed Steve up the stairs and back into the action.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Steve saw Thor and some of his men flank the rest of Hammer’s men, getting them away from Bucky, who was leaning over Clint. Steve tried to run to them, but Stark pulled him back. “Barton’s fine. Finish this first.” Steve glared at the other man, but found himself shooting alongside Stark anyway.

“How did this happen?” shouted Stark.

Steve rolled his eyes. “How would I know? You said this was going to be easy!”

“Oh, so this is my fault?”

“Well it certainly isn’t mine!”

“So bringing your fancy foreign friend overseas to rub in my face wasn’t your fault?”

Steve groaned. “That has nothing to do with this! How was I supposed to know that you would react that way?”

Stark spun around to look at him. “A decent person would.”

“Oh, I forgot that you were such a decent person yourself.”

“Well, I came here to save your ass, didn’t I?” scoffed Stark.

“My ass didn’t need saving. I was doing perfectly fine thank you very much!”

“You’re kidding me, right?” snapped Stark, as he threw Steve another clip. “You were using a barrel lid for cover, Cap. A barrel lid. Sheet metal doesn’t stop bullets, Cap! You are either the dumbest motherfucker around, or you’re just plain crazy.”

“I was handling it just fine,” Steve retorted, loading in the new bullets. “Maybe you came back because you knew it was your fault. Guilt’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

Steve saw Stark roll his eyes. “Here we go again, with this being my fault.”

“It was your plan!”

“It was your problem!”

“REALLY?! You’re gonna do this now?!” Bucky’s voice carried over the boxes, stopping the two men from arguing.

Steve turned back to Stark, not really knowing what to say, when he saw the other man’s eyes widen, quickly jumping to knock Steve to the side just as a spray of bullets hit where Steve was standing. Stark collapsed on top of him, both men breathing heavily while Thor took out the assailant.

“Well, usually, I’d make you take me to dinner first,” chided Steve, looking down at how they were positioned.

Stark huffed out a laugh, but Steve managed to see a faint blush. “You’re welcome, asshole,” he groaned.

Steve stood back up, reaching down a hand to yank Stark up as well. Looking around the carnage in the room, Steve knew they had managed to pull out a victory.

“We got a runner,” whispered Stark, still breathing severely.

Sure enough, the last of Hammer’s men was taking off down the stairs to the exit.

“Thor, bring him back. Alive.” The blonde man grinned, nodding before giving chase to the other man.

“Clint?” Steve called out across the room.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard a familiar voice. “Fine, Cap. Just a graze.” Steve nodded to himself, bringing a hand to run through his hair. He stopped, however, when he felt something sticky on his fingers. Steve pulled back quickly, eyeing the red that now stained his hand.

Heart stopping, Steve dragged his hands all over his body, looking for any sort of wound, only to come back clean. Then where did- oh. Steve spun back around to face the man who was now leaning against the tall crates for support.

It wasn’t his blood.

It was Stark’s.  

Chapter Text

“For the last time; I am fine,” Stark hissed as he tried to dodge out of Steve’s grip, only to end up stumbling forward towards the ground again. Steve reached out immediately, catching the falling man for about the tenth time that night.

“You are not fine,” Steve grit out. He yanked Stark against him again, his temper getting the best of him. When he felt Stark flinch roughly under him, guilt poured through Steve’s veins, his harsh grasp instantly yielding. He spun Stark around, Steve’s head dipping down so he was eye level with Stark’s.

Steve would be lying if he said he hadn’t seen any worse wounds, but that did nothing to quell the tight fear and crushing guilt that sat in his chest. Stark had been lucky, that's for damn sure. By pushing Steve to the side, the bullet had just managed to clip him on his left arm; just a simple through-and-through. But it still landed Stark with a lot less blood then Steve would’ve liked; a sickly sheen of sweat covered the smaller man, his eyes getting more unfocused by the minute.

Once he saw the blood pouring for Stark’s arm, The Captain truly came out. He barked at Thor to restrain Hammer’s fleeing man, all while sending Bucky to tend for Clint. Steve raced over to Stark, doing a quick body search to look for the man’s phone. Of course, that got another snarky comment, but Steve could hardly hear it over the blood pounding in his ears. After a quick call to Natasha, he all but dragged Stark out of the warehouse, the rest of his crew stumbling behind them. The drive back to base was tense; Steve couldn’t help but looking over at Stark every minute to ensure that the brunette was still breathing. Stark caught on pretty quickly, his smart mouth still able to chastise Steve even with an open wound.

Now, trying to drag Stark into base to get his wound checked out was like trying to pull teeth. With chopsticks. Steve had thought Stark was stubborn before, but this was just plain ridiculous.

Steve brought a hand up and tapped lightly against Stark’s cheeks. “You still with me, Stark?”

Stark batted Steve’s hand away. Or, at least he tried to, the hand moving slowly and missing Steve’s by a mile. “Fine, Cap. Bring me back to my car; I need to go home.”

Steve scoffed. “Absolutely not. You’re going to see the doctor.”

Stark yanked in Steve’s grip again. “You can’t take me to a hospital, are you nuts- ”

“I didn’t say that; you’ll see our guy. Now come on, we’re almost there.”

“Cap, listen. This isn’t the first time, and probably not the last, that metal’s torn through my body. I got this.”

Steve forced Stark to meet to gaze. “No. You listen to me. I am not going to sit here and let you bleed out on my front steps. You go out and take a job with us? That makes you a Commando, and whether you like it or not, that makes you one of my people. So buck up, soldier, shut your goddamned mouth, and let your Captain help you.”  

The air between the two men was tense; Stark looked up at Steve with wide eyes, Steve just glaring back at him, as if daring Stark to argue back.

“Yeah, I don’t really do the whole ‘adhering to authority’ thing.”

Screw the bullet; Steve Rogers was going to kill this man. “Fuck it,” Steve swore. “I don’t have time for this.” Without another moment of hesitation, Steve brought his arms around Stark’s waist and under his knees, carrying the man bridal style.

“Hey, watch your- what the hell are you doing?!”

Steve ignored him, kicking the door open and stomping up the stairs to the meeting room. Bucky was already in there with Clint, the brunette holding his now ruined jacket up against Clint’s side, stopping the still flowing blood.

Steve heard Clint snicker when he saw Stark’s position, although it was cut off with another gasp of pain. Bucky stepped closer, pushing harder against the wound to try and comfort his friend.

Steve walked over the left, dumping Stark into an available chair. “Sit. Stay,” Steve snapped while pointing at the chair.

Stark rolled his eyes. “Will I get a treat?”

Steve shot him an unimpressed glare. “I won’t put another bullet in you.”

Stark huffed, but Steve ignored it, moving over towards Clint and Bucky. Another pang of guilt swept through him; Steve had spent all that time trying to get Stark in the building, he had all but forgotten about Clint’s injury. Steve’s hands joined Bucky against Clint’s would, his blue eyes darting all over Clint’s face, taking in his friend’s pained state.

“I’m fine, Cap,” Barton slurred out.

“Forgive me when I don’t take your word for it.” Steve pushed Bucky’s hands away and peeled the jacket away to get a better look at Clint’s side. While Clint had managed to get away with just a graze, it was still a pretty deep gash. Steve let out a small hiss before pushing the jacket back against the wound. “Report,” Steve added to Bucky.

“Thor is sitting downstairs with our newest guest and Nat went to go get the doc. Oh, and I called Phil.”

Clint’s eyes shot up. “What?! Nooooo, Buck, come on! I’m fine, it’s just- ”

“Shut up,” Bucky hissed, slapping the back of Clint’s head. “You really think you could hide this from him? If I didn’t tell him he’d have all our asses. Forgive me for wanting to keep my ass intact.”

Clint huffed affectionately. “He’s still gonna kill me.”

Bucky moved to put a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, buddy, you’re a dead man. Should’a left you in the warehouse.”

Clint laughed softly, ending in another groan. Steve stepped closer to the man, trying to bracket him, finding any way to lessen his pain. Any response Steve was going to give was cut off by Natasha entering the room, followed by the doc.

While Steve’s crew was made up of almost every type of person, it was still a wonder that someone like Bruce Banner had ever ended up with a crew like them.

Meeting Bruce Banner, like most other members of his crew, had been by complete chance. Bruce had been a teacher at a university, a brilliant man with a bright future. He had a sweetheart, Betty, the two of them diving into new research for their field of science. From what Bruce had ever shared with the crew, Betty’s father, General Ross, had never approved of him. Unfortunately for him, it was a two way street; Bruce always knew the military father was a bad egg. Digging into confidential files, Bruce found out way to much about a dangerous military program. Bruce, in spite of his calm disposition, blew up in front of Ross publicly, effectively ending the man’s illegal planning and military career. However, Bruce’s anger, along with the added bonus of hit squad from Ross, cost him his job, Betty, and the life he once knew. Lucky for Bruce, he had a few tricks up his sleeves.

“Steve, it’s probably nothing.” Steve ignored his friend and continued to push through the freshly lock-picked door. Nothing, Steve thought to himself. Yeah, right. That was what he thought HYDRA was the first time he'd ever heard the name. And look what happened because of it.  

“A transmission came from a computer at their base, Buck. HYDRA’s base. You think I’m just gonna let that one slide?”

He felt Bucky sigh next to him, the annoyed sound echoing through the seemingly abandoned building. “Steve, they’re gone. There’s no one left; we made sure of it. It’s probably just some computer glitch.”

“Yep. Just like that Patriot Missile Failure was just a computer glitch.”

Bucky groaned. “You gotta stop watching those war documentaries, man.”

“The fact that you know exactly what I’m talking about means you like them just as much as me. Now go around the back and meet me in the middle,” Steve replied with a firm tone.

“Fine. Bossy.” Steve waited until he saw Bucky safely make back out and towards the building rear before continuing.

The air was stale; dust mites flew across the random strips of light that filtered through the broken windows. No one had been inside this building for years, but Steve could still hear the crackling gunfire and hoarse screams as if he was still in the middle of the firefight with HYDRA. 

Steve edged to the back office slowly, his eyes constantly scanning, looking for any threat. Approaching cautiously, Steve could see the glow of the computer from the doorway, the quiet whir of the technology. He pulled his gun out from the back of his pants, his heartbeat escalating in his chest. Taking on last deep breath, Steve jumped through the door frame, raising he gun towards the computer, waiting for the assailant.

What he wasn’t expecting was a small, gawky man sitting quietly in the office chair. He looked tired; his clothes rumpled, extenuating the dark circles under his eyes framed by large glasses. When Steve raced into the room, the man looked completely unfazed, even smiling a little towards Steve.

“Hello,” he said politely, offering a small wave.

Steve didn’t respond, just narrowed his eyes and raised his gun up higher.

“Oh. Right. Um. Well, before we start, I guess I’d like to say that I’m not HYDRA, I’m just, um, me. It’s just- well, I needed to talk to you. I know, I know, I kind of went through some extreme measures, but you’re a hard man to find, Captain.”

Steve flinched at his name. “How the hell do you know me?”

The smaller man looked almost embarrassed. “Well, uh, I don’t- or, didn’t, I should say. You kind of just confirmed it for me.” When Steve cocked his gun, the man continued. “Listen, there really isn’t a need for the gun. I’m not a threat to you.”

“Why don’t you let me make that decision.”

The man sighed. “I just want to talk.”

“Then talk. Why don’t you start with who you are?”

“Bruce Banner,” the man said, extending a hand.

Bruce Banner. The name was everywhere; the news constantly played stories of the scientist’s battle with the military. “Banner? You’re a pretty popular guy right now; the TV never shuts up about you,” Steve said, ignoring the hand.

Banner gave a small smile, bringing his arm back down to his side. “Yeah, they never manage to get my good side.”

“What do you want?”

“Like I said, I need to talk to you.”

“About?”

Bruce ran a hand thought his dark locks. “I need your help.”

Steve tilted his head to the side. “What could you possibly want from The Commandos?”

“You said it yourself; I’m everywhere. I need you to kill me.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Not a very common request.”

“Well, not actually kill,” the man stumbled. “I need to disappear. You did it before, so you can do it for me.”

Steve scoffed. “Why would I help you?”

Banner’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I wasn’t asking.”

Steve tightened his grip on his gun. “Is that a threat? I saw what you did to Ross. What’s to stop you from doing that to me? What’s to stop me from killing you right here?”

Banner rubbed his temples. “I didn’t- God, I’m doing this all wrong. Besides, you seem more of a threat than- ”

“Me?” Steve gaped. “You sent that transmission. How am I supposed to trust you when you’re proving yourself a very capable enemy.”

“Or ally. And please, you’re just as trustworthy as me. As if the great Captain trekked out here alone.”

Steve’s heartbeat escalated. “You see anyone else in this- ”

“STOP LYING TO ME!” Banner’s voice boomed through the room, startling even Steve back a few steps. Bucky charged through the room, gun drawn and eyes blazing.

Banner looked from Bucky and back to Steve, flashing a small smirk. “Just you and me, huh?”

Steve sighed and finally lowered his gun, gesturing for Bucky to do the same. “You make a valid point. Why do you need my help? You seemed to be hiding just fine before.”

“I can hide when I need to,” retorted Banner. “But Ross’s men…they’re trying to find me through Betty. I can’t- it’s not,” the man broke off with a sigh. “I can’t let her get hurt for what I’ve done. I don’t have your resources to clean myself from the system. I figured if there was anyone that could make me disappear, it was you.”

Banner looked at Steve with pleading eyes, his voice dripping in sincerity. “Please,” he continued. “I can’t offer you much, but I’ll give you it all to save Betty. I have some cash saved, even some notes on the government, whatever you want.”

Steve stared at the man, before looking at Bucky. He could see the distrust in his friend’s eyes, but Steve was a sucker for a sob story. “Fine,” he said, ignoring Bucky’s load groan. “As for payment…the news says you’re a doctor?”

Steve gave Bruce a warm smile, one that was happily returned. Despite their first meeting, Bruce had proven himself more than enough ways to be in the crew. He was quirky, an odd duck, but wove perfectly in with the patchwork of The Commandos. The Swiss Army Knife, Dugan calls him, much to Bruce's chagrin. Steve couldn't help but agree; it seemed that every time he ran into Bruce in their home, the man was in the middle of a different task, grumbling the occasional complain, but doing it all the same. It had been over a year since their first meeting, and while Steve had talked with him multiple times about sending him somewhere else, Bruce always just laughed him off. 

"You know you don't actually have to do this stuff, right?"  Steve asked. 

Bruce shrugged, not looking up from where he was looking over the busted coffee machine. "I know I gripe, but I don't mind it, really." 

Steve frowned. "There are other ways I can help you disappear," he continued. "I know this isn't what you envisioned for your life. But you know that I'll help you make the best of it. It's been a while; things have started to calm down. I can set you up in West Virginia, get you closer to Betty, and- "

"No," Bruce snapped, finally looking up at Steve. "I won't risk her." 

Steve smiled. "I know you won't. It's just, you don't owe me anything. Not anymore. You're my friend, Bruce. You're our friend. We take care of our own." 

Bruce stood, clapping a hand on Steve's shoulder. "And that's why I stay. I take care of my own, as well. Besides," he chuckled softly. "I'm quite surprised how much being a criminal suits me, let alone one that's supposed to be dead. If only Betty could see me now!" 

Steve nodded over to Bruce, meeting the man in a firm hand shake. He guided Bruce over to Stark, but the man brushed the doctor off.

“Barton first,” Stark grumbled. “I can’t take any more of his bitching,” he continued. Steve stared in disbelief back down at the brunette, but let Bruce head over to Barton. He could hear Bruce’s disappointed huff as he dressed Clint’s wound, but Steve only had eyes for Stark.

He came back for them, for me.

He took a bullet for me.

“Why?” Steve felt himself whispering to the injured man.  

Stark met his gaze slowly, but understanding shown in his eyes. “Job’s not done. Besides, I didn’t want you to get your blood all over my warehouse floor. You know how long it takes for that to get out? It’s not good for business.”

Despite everything, Steve found himself smiling at the man. “I’m still mad at you,” Stark mumbled.

Steve huffed. “I know. I’m not exactly happy with you either.”

“I know,” Stark replied, finally returning Steve’s smile. Steve just snorted and moved to sit next to the man.

Bruce finally walked over to Stark, taking a look at his arm. He wiped down the wound and started on the stitches when he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

Stark gaped at the man. “Wow, what serv- holy shit. You’re Bruce Banner.”

Bruce, as always, just gave an embarrassed smile while readjusting his glasses. Stark, mouth still gaping open, turned back to Steve. “Bruce Banner? The Bruce Banner? He’s supposed to be dead! I should’ve known this was your work, Cap. Who else do you have running around in here, Elvis?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Johnny Cash on the other hand,” Steve started with a grin, but Stark wasn’t listening anymore, already pestering Bruce.

“Doctor. It is an honor. Your work on gamma radiation is unparalleled. Also, I’m a huge fan on how you basically turned into a rage monster and singlehandedly dismantled Ross’s military network.”

“Um, thanks. I think.” Bruce answered, starting to poke at Stark’s wound as the engineer continued to bombard him with questions. Bruce answered each one politely, working with steady hands, only stopping to gently readjust Stark's position as the man blabbed animatedly about something Steve could never hope to understand. He could see the excitement reflected in Bruce's own eyes as he worked a neat row of stitches into Stark's arm. Finally, someone that can keep up with him. Steve scoffed at his own thought. He could barely go a day without pissing Stark off; it's not like he was going to stick around after this mess with HYDRA was cleaned up. Steve watched as Bruce wound a tight bandage over the wound, the doctor, nodding at Steve. He'll be fine, it meant. Steve couldn't help but slump in relief knowing both Clint, even Stark, would pull through. Bruce started to pack up his med kit, but Stark kept on talking, with no end in sight. Steve rolled his eyes, shoving pain killers in Stark’s face.

“All right, show’s over,” Steve said as he pulled Stark up and brought him into his office. He helped Stark lay down on his couch, ignoring the man’s whining. “I promise Bruce will be here when you wake up,” Steve huffed.

“I don’t need to sleep,” pouted Stark.

“Of course you don’t. I’ll be back later.”

Stark’s eyes blinked up at him slowly, the drugs already pulling him under. “Where you goin'?” he managed to slur out.

“I’m gonna go have a chat with our friend downstairs. He has some injuries to answer for.”

Chapter Text

Steve walked slowly down the wrought iron stairs, his head thrumming with today’s events. He had waited until Stark had passed out, adjusting the injured man’s position so he wouldn’t wake up later with a crick in his neck. With the man unconscious underneath him, Steve had plenty of time to truly study the engineer. He looked at peace; the usual stress lines that adorned his face gone, leaving an almost innocent expression. Even in a dead sleep, the smaller man let out some unintelligible murmurs, as if his brain continued to power on when the rest of the body was resting. The price of an advanced mind, I suppose, Steve thought to himself.  

Despite Stark’s reasoning, Steve had no idea why Stark had come back for them. After everything that had gone down before, Stark should have left Steve and his crew to die. But he didn’t. While Steve yearned to believe that it was the shreds of humanity that still encircled Stark’s heart that brought him back to save Steve, he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. It’s the world they live in. The only way to survive out there is through connections and favors. And Stark? Stark just charged in guns a blazing, saving Steve and his men, all while apprehending one of Hammer’s men. Steve owed Stark. That’s what scared him the most. 

Trying to clear his head, Steve stomped down the last few steps, walking down the dark hallway to one of their ‘interrogation rooms’. Steve had left Thor in charge of Hammer’s last survivor while he catered to the injured with Bruce, so with the two of them together, Steve didn’t think it would take much for the guy to break.

His suspicions were confirmed when he entered the room to find Hammer’s goon already whimpering, throwing in a few body thrashes when he noticed Steve enter the room. Steve smirked. While Steve’s Captain visage was terrifying to most, being on the other side of an interrogation with Thor is absolutely hellish. Thor had that confidence, border lining on cockiness; a dominant power no matter what room he walks in. Hell, Thor hasn’t even touched this guy yet and he already looked like he was five seconds away from soiling himself. Then again, Hammer and his men are as cowardly as they come.

“Anything?” Steve asked, walking up to the hulking blonde.

“I was waiting on you, Captain,” answered Thor. “I have been told there is power in numbers,” he said with a beaming smile.

Steve returned with a small smile of his own. “By all means,” he said, gesturing to the blubbering mess tied to the chair in front of them.

Thor gave a forceful nod, walking over to a table placed on the far wall. When Thor sidled on back over, Steve chuckled when he saw Thor wielding an industrial hammer. “It’s my favorite,” Thor answered with a laugh of his own. 

"You know the last time we saw each other he tried to kill me with a hammer?" Tony's voice filtered through his head. 

Steve watched as Thor walked up to Hammer’s man. “Now, I've been told that in your country, the saying is ‘do first, ask questions later’ is very popular. With that in mind, which one of your fingers do you like least?”

The man yanked against his bonds, his screams muffled by the gag placed securely over his mouth. “Oh, of course, the gag. Well, unfortunately, we have wounded upstairs and we shouldn’t disturb them, so if you could just wiggle which one for me, that would- oh. Captain, would you look at this? He’s moving them all. A brave man, this one. Braver than I, I think,” Thor chuckled. “Are you sure?” he asked again to the man, who was shaking his head wildly, trying his best to stop the tremors wracking through his hands. Thor smirked. “As you wish.”

With unyielding force, Thor brought the hammer down on the poor man’s fingers, the blow crushing each one before moving on to the next one. It was brutal; the man’s screams barely were barely muffled by the gag, but Steve never flinched once. This was just the beginning.

By the time Thor was finished, Steve could see the man struggle to hold on to consciousness, his head, moving to each side before flopping down into his chest. Steve gave Thor a nod when the other man looked at him, giving him the go ahead to remove the gag.

Once the rough cloth was out of his mouth, the man gasped for air like he’d been drowning, his harsh breaths accompanied by pained groans. “Ple-ple-please! No more, I can’t, I-I’ll tell you anything!”

Steve gave a hollow laugh. “That’s too bad. We don’t want anything from you.”

The man looked up at Steve with bleary eyes. “Well, th-then what- ”

“You work for Hammer. Hammer works for HYDRA. Do the math, it’s not that hard.”

Their prisoner’s eyes bugged out of their sockets, his head snapping towards Thor as his pleas increased. “Oh no, my friend. You attacked The Captain’s men today. You answer to him.”

“No, wait, please! I didn’t know it was The Captain’s men, I was just doing as The Monger asked, I swear!”

Steve stared down at the man, his body radiating pure fury. Without a single word, he stuck his hand out towards Thor, one that was quickly filled with the hammer. Not waiting for the man to try and bargain again, Steve swung the hammer around, hitting him square in his right shin. The man howled, the force from his shout almost tipping his chair over. “Huh,” said Steve, looking down at the hammer.

“Terribly well balanced, isn’t it? It’s all in the swing,” he heard Thor say next to him. Steve swung a few more times, clipping his collarbone and ribs, each thudding noise satisfying Steve’s rage. It wasn’t long before Steve dropped the hammer and resorted to his fists, his eyes closing as he blindly hit the helpless man beneath him, the only thing running through his mind was the way his hands looked in Stark and Clint’s blood. With one final knee to the ribs, Steve stepped back, running a hand through his hair, trying to get a handle on his racing pulse and pounding heart.

Steve let the man recover, well, as much as he could with shattered bones, before walking back up to him. Steve grabbed his chin, forcing him to make eye contact. “Now that I have your attention, listen very carefully. You and the rest of your posse had the audacity to attack me today. And because of your actions, two of my people are injured. My people. I would love nothing more than to jam this hammer into your skull and watch the light leave your eyes, but I’ve got a better idea. You’re going to go back to Hammer and tell him everything that happened today; tell him how you failed. And then tell him this: back off. The next time that your boss comes anywhere near my people, I will end him. You think it’s bad now? You haven’t even seen bad. Now do as I say before I change my mind and I choke the life right out of you. Do you understand?”

The man, who at this point was a few deep breaths from choking on his own blood managed to give a slight jerk for a nod.

“I’m glad we were able to reach an understanding,” sneered Steve. “Wrap him up, Thor, and drop him in a street. I don’t care which one; just get this filth out of here.”

Thor obeyed immediately, throwing a bag over the man’s head before fireman carrying him out of the room.

Steve paused, looking at the blood stained floor. The Monger, Hammer's man had said. That was a new one. Their prisoner hadn't denied his knowledge of Hammer's working with HYDRA, but who was The Monger? How was he involved? Maybe he was the new face of HYDRA; they had to have picked someone after Schmidt died. Whoever The Monger was, he was the next piece of the puzzle that they needed. 

Steve sighed and headed out the door, only stopping when he ran into Bucky. “Go with Thor and dump that trash in the street,” he commanded, nodding to where Thor was carrying Hammer's half-dead man up the stairs. 

“You gonna let him go?” Bucky asked.

“That’s one way to put it,” Steve responded. “Follow him after the drop off; let him stumble around until he finds an ally.”

“And?”

“And as soon as he so as much opens his mouth, put a bullet through his brain. That will send a message.”

Bucky nodded before taking off to catch Thor. Steve stood around on the main floor and watched them go, his body still thrumming with adrenaline. He sighed again, heading for the gym, hoping a few rounds with the punching bag will calm him down. He rounded the corner, trying to wipe the blood on his knuckles off when he ran into Phil Coulson.

“Oh, Phil! I’m sorry, I, uh- ” Steve broke off when he looked down at the state of his clothing, the dirty outfit covered in blood from the job as well as his latest art project with Thor.

Phil just shrugged. “Not like I haven’t seen Clint look any better,” he said with a small smile. But Steve could see the small cracks in it, the slight tugging of the lips more a grim line than a smile at all, really. 

Steve nodded, gesturing to one of the side bedrooms. “Is he?”

“Yes,” answered Phil. “I’m just out to find another blanket. Clint passed out before I even got here.”

Steve smirked. “Lucky bastard.”

“For now,” Phil snorted. “That man is going to be in a world of hurt when he wakes up.”

Steve returned the laugh hollowly, before looking down at his hands. “Phil, I- ”

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “I know what you’re going to say. It wasn’t your fault; you couldn’t have known that would happen.”

“But I should’ve.”

Phil sighed. “We’ve had this conversation a hundred times before, and something tells me we’ll be having it again one day. I know you love Clint as much as I do; you’ll do anything and everything to bring him home to me every night. That’s all I can ask for.”

“You know, for as often as we have this talk, it doesn’t seem to be getting any easier,” retorted Steve.

Phil’s lips tugged into a smile. “It's hard. I mean, I know what you guys do. I hear it when the reports come through the precinct. It’s tough not knowing when I wake up every morning if that will be the last one I have with him. Sometimes I just want to lock him in the house, but that man is just too damn stubborn. I just have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.”

Steve grabbed Phil’s shoulder. “It’s funny. I heard the exact same thing from Clint last week. You know he keeps a police scanner running upstairs all the time just in case? He’s just as worried about you, Phil.”

“What a match we are,” Phil said wryly.

“You know,” Steve continued. “If you ever wanted to leave. With Clint, of course. Take off somewhere, start a new life? I can make that happen.”

Phil shot Steve an unimpressed look. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m just saying, if it gets to be too much, I can- ”

“Let me tell you something. Clint’s never leaving; you know that, I know that. He doesn’t know anything outside of this life. And where he goes, I go. I mean, the man can barely find his shoes in the morning; can you imagine him trying to survive a week without me? Besides, domestic live wouldn’t suit us. That’s a one way ticket for us to sit in recliners and get fat.”  

Steve smiled. “Well, just know the option is always there.”

“The fact that it’s even an option is more reason for us to stay,” Phil replied easily.

“You’re a good man, Phil Coulson.”

The smaller man patted Steve’s shoulder before continuing on his way to find blankets. “Someone’s gotta keep you guys in line.”

Matthew Drumm tapped a broken melody on the side of the van he was leaning against. He had been waiting hours for Hammer’s field men to come back from the job, hopefully with The Captain and Stark in tow.

He was about to call it quits when a man came stumbling out of the back alley, his right leg dragging behind him, both arms wrapped securely around his chest. The man began to limp towards Drumm, a small line of blood followed behind him, like a trail of bread crumbs.

Drumm squinted. “Carl, that you?”

His crew mate blinked up at him, gasping for breath as he tried to form words. “Jesus. What the hell happened to you? Where are the others?” Drumm continued, running up to his injured friend.

“Th-the Captain,” Carl managed to choke out before a gun shot rang out, and Matthew Drumm found himself covered in his friend’s blood, the man falling limp in his arms.

Heart pounding, he took a step back, Carl falling out of his arms and onto the ground. “Oh my god,” he whispered, already reaching for his phone. He scrambled to type in the number, before remembering that he should run to cover, in case another shot rings out.

“What is it? Do you have them?” Hammer’s voice filtered through the phone.

“Boss,” Drumm gasped, still looking at Carl’s motionless body. “We’ve got a problem.”

Chapter Text

Tony woke slowly, his mind muddled by whatever drugs he had been given. Wait, drugs?

Tony sprung up, only to have a sharp pain course over his arm. Oh, that’s right. I’ve been shot. Tony glanced down at his injured arm, the previous events flashing through his mind. He smiled, however, when he looked at the neat row of stitches, thinking of the quirky Bruce Banner. Tony had remembered the news plastering the doctor's face all over New York and the world, while the man duked in out with General Ross. What he'd down wad incredible, his inner self whooping for joy as the seemingly timid man did what Tony couldn't manage with his own father. Tony had actually planned on reaching out to the man, only to be devastated when the news reported him deceased. Finding him alive and well was the Holy Grail that Tony didn't know he needed. He couldn’t wait to pick his brain later.

How the hell does someone like him end up with The Captain? It seemed like The Captain and his crew had a spot for every-

No.

Tony shook his head, rubbing at his eyes with his hand. It was that kind of thinking that got him in that situation in the first place. How the hell did he end up like this? Tony used to pay people to go out and get shot for him. Now here he is, sitting on some ratty couch in the boondocks of Brooklyn, nursing his own bullet wound. How the hell am I gonna get this past Pepper? Past Obie?

Tony flopped back down on the couch, groaning. He always did well under stress, always able to keep control. Hell, he had a whole childhood with Howard to prove that. But right now, Tony could almost feel the runaway train he was on. Honestly, if he had told himself a month ago that this was where he was gonna end up, Tony probably would have brushed it off as his usual drunken rants. How the mighty have fallen, he thought to himself. I’m digging my own grave at this point.

It was all The Captain’s fault.

Tony had tried to convince himself that it was a business move. It was strategic; show up as The Captain’s knight in shining armor, and the man would be begging to give Tony favors.

But who was he kidding? Tony knew there was no way that he could dismantle HYDRA by himself.

Having his own narcissistic tendencies, Tony could convince anyone that he could move mountains with his bare hands, maybe even build a weaponized metal flight suit. Who knows, he probably could if he had the time. Tony was never one to admit that he was only human, but even he had his limits. Not that he would tell anyone.

While Tony had gone around jabbing at The Captain’s apparent ‘need’ for him, it was really Tony covering up his need for The Captain. And then Thor had shown up, and it had all gone to shit.

So no, Tony did not go back for them as a business move. Tony had to show The Captain that he still needed Tony. He felt like he was back at boarding school, all of the kids lining up, trying to prove their worth to the team’s captain, trying not to be the last one picked for dodgeball.

Falling out of the loop with The Captain and his crew could have devastating results, especially this far in the game. Power in numbers, right? With HYDRA on their tails, Tony couldn’t afford to be left in the dust. They were already steps behind HYDRA, if Tony fell out now, he’d find himself cornered. Because believe it or not, The Captain had resources that he didn’t. Sure, Tony could hack any mainframe, get a digital copy of almost anything, but every brain needs its brawn. This was HYDRA. The fact that they had already managed to survive their first massacre was enough proof that they wouldn’t be one to disappear again with a key simple stokes of a keyboard.

No, Tony couldn’t get any closer to HYDRA by himself, just like The Captain wouldn’t get anywhere without Tony. Or, at least, that’s what Tony had thought. It was Thor’s arrival that tipped him over; the influx of a new variable in an already unstable equation, making Tony nothing more than a constant: so small that he became obsolete. Thor had resources, had the money to do whatever Tony could do.  

Tony had to be better.

Tony thrived on being needed, on being wanted. It was his own sick and twisted version of love, a way of proving to himself that he wasn’t the worthless piece of scrap his father told him he was. He’s a moth drawn to the flame; his publicity the oxygen, his desirable skill set the dry heat that keeps the fire going.

Who was Tony Stark if he wasn’t needed?

Nobody.

A brilliant star gone supernova, until there’s nothing left but the empty and unforgiving void of space.

So if getting shot was what it takes to get back in the game, why not? It’s not like he hadn’t done anything worse to get less, and Tony’s always been one for the dramatic flair. Tony couldn’t help but silently preen whenever The Captain shot him some guilt ridden faces as he helped him back to their base. It was almost comical how wide his eyes were, the poor man twitching at every small groan Tony made. Plus, Tony was almost positive that he would have gotten a hard on when the man picked him up like he weighed nothing. That is, if it weren’t from the blood loss that he was experiencing at the time.  

Tony took a deep breath and sat up again, slowly this time, trying to keep from jostling his arm. He eyes started to scan the room curiously, taking in his new surroundings. It was nothing much; at any other point in his life, Tony might call it fit for derelicts. But now, he could only seem to describe it as homey. Everything was so worn down and overused that it seemed to give off a certain warmth. It was like a glimpse behind the curtain, the idea of a simple domesticity hidden in the lives of hardened criminals. The desk, presumably The Captain's, was overflowing with files, notes, and scraps. Books of every genre were crammed into a crooked bookshelf, looking like it was one nudge away from falling over. Tony smiled, imagining members of the team curling into the armchair to read, the room silent except for the scratching of paper, the hulking Captain hunching over the desk, scribbling in a tight scrawl. 

What immediately caught his gaze, leaving him frozen on the couch, was the huge collage that sat across from him. Pictures for every occasion filled Tony’s eye line; some taken recently while others showed the signs of age. Newspaper clippings were tacked alongside them, telling the tales of the Captain and his men. It was so domestic; almost as if a proud dad had taken their A+ reports and put them on the refrigerator for everyone else to see. The rest of the wall was covered in artwork, obviously the work of The Captain. The scenes took many mediums, ranging from thick sketch pads to scraps of paper to napkins from a random diner, as if Cap had grabbed whatever was around to catch the perfect moment. It was so real, so normal. Like walking into a house and seeing all the family photos adorn the walls, hanging happy memories to remember in years to come.

Tony hated it.

It shouldn’t be there. They shouldn’t have this. Tony knew The Captain was close to his crew, but this just screamed family bond. Why did they get to have this? How? Tony had files compiled on most of The Commandos. They’re all so different; each thinking, each moving in their own unique way. They shouldn’t work. They shouldn’t be them.  How could they, a mob much less, manage to find a chuck of happiness in the world they live in? How could they have that when Ton-people could never grasp it with their real family?

Tony started to push off the couch to get a closer look when he heard a gun cock to his right.

He spun suddenly, ignoring the searing pain from his arm, to face Barnes, who was sitting comfortably bin a chair crammed in the far corner. Tony let himself sidle back down to the couch, the apparent ‘don’t move’ from Barnes enough to send him back down to the furniture.

“Bedside manner not really your forte, is it?” Tony tried to joke.

Which of course only got him a colder glare from Barnes. The Captain’s lap dog did not sit well with Tony. Well, none of The Commandos did; they were trained killers after all. Barnes, however, definitely takes the cake. His fierce protectiveness over his boss could be clearly seen on any day, but his hatred for Tony? Well that could be seen for miles.

“Isn’t this the part where you ask me if I want some water?”

Barnes rolled his eyes. “How about we skip that and we just get to the part where you shut your mouth?”

Tony glared at the other brunette. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“I don’t take orders from you,” snapped Barnes.

“Well, I don’t take orders from anyone. So why don’t you put the gun down and tell me what you want?”

Barnes tilted his head minutely, before standing up, slowly stalking up to Tony, a menacing force towering over him. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, well. The gun’s a bit much, but I know you don’t really know how to socialize as a normal- ”

“Cut the shit,” Barnes interrupted him. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “I don’t follow.”

Barnes placed the gun on the desk, still facing Tony, and crossed his arms over his chest. “That stunt you pulled at the warehouse.”

“Well,” Tony retorted. “Most people would say thank you.”

Barnes snorted. “You didn’t come back there to save our asses; you’d probably be happier if some of us got killed off.”

Tony hummed. “Well, I’m not gonna lie, Barnes. You would look spectacular splattered out on my warehouse floor. Another time, maybe?”

Barnes reached forward and grabbed Tony’s arm, squeezing over his stitches. Tony tried to remain unfazed, but even he couldn’t help the flinch he gave as he was grabbed roughly. “Listen to me very closely. The only reason you are still breathing is because Cap still wants to milk you a bit more before he leaves you dried up and broken in the streets. And when that day comes? When The Captain finally realizes how useless you are? You can be damn sure that I’ll be the one behind the rifle pulling the trigger. It would be quite a site to watch you splatter, wouldn’t it? And through it all, I’ll do it with a smile.”

Tony tried to stay nonplussed, but he knew he was failing miserably, his frantic heartbeat a dead giveaway. He always saw Barnes as a threat, but Jesus, the man was almost as terrifying as Romanoff. Which, of course, shouldn’t have been a surprise considering how Tony already knew how dangerous Barnes was. But he was always a terror, The Captain’s right hand man.

When The Commandos first started popping up, Barnes had acquired the name The Winter Soldier, a deadly whisper on the streets. Whenever dealing with some of their more gruesome foes, The Captain would always send Barnes in to… eradicate the problem. People said that if you ever managed to survive an encounter with The Captain’s top dog, you ended up feeling like death anyway. They say facing off against him is like facing the Grim Reaper himself; his cold, empty eyes and threatening words enough to turn your veins to ice from fear alone.

Tony had always been skeptical of the name, but being on the other side of James Barnes right now was enough for him to pray out a silent Hail Mary.

“Because I know you, Stark,” continued Barnes. “You’re nothing but a sleazy businessman, and a threat to my family. I’m sorry to say that we’re not your typical cliental, however. We’re not swayed by your fancy words and your smart mouth. You’re not fooling any of us, so you can quit it with the knight and shining armor bullcrap vibe you’re trying to send out.”

Tony smirked at him. “Why? You worried you aren’t Daddy’s favorite anymore?”

Barnes’s nose flared, his arm snapping out to grab his gun again, having it pointed back at Tony before he could get another word in. “You think you have Cap wrapped around your little finger don’t you? But let me tell you something. You’re nothing. You don’t belong here; we don’t even want you here. One word from me and you’ll be done for. So you better tread lightly, Stark, because I’m not one to be- ”

“Bucky.”

Both men startled at the voice, The Captain managing to sneak up on both of them, blue eyes blazing with fury.

Barnes faltered with the gun. “Cap, I- ”

“Get. Out. I’ll deal with you later.”

Tony watched Barnes slump, defeated, before moving to head out of the room. When he got to the door, he shot Tony one last final glare, which Tony responded with a winning smile. Sucker.  

Once Barnes was gone, Tony turned back to The Captain, looking him over. The blonde looked exhausted to the bone, not to mention infuriated, covered in blood, grime, and sweat. The Captain ran a hand through his already greasy locks, looking idly around the room.

Trying to break the awkward silence, Tony said, “So. He’s a real keeper, that Barnes.”

A harsh laugh escaped The Captain’s lips, the man trying to give a weak smile to cover up his obvious pain. “Yeah, he’s, uh. He’s somethin’ else.”

“Just, try to keep him from killing me, yeah? I think one bullet is enough for today.”

The Captain’s eyes immediately hardened, walking over to Tony, grabbing the man’s arm with a tenderness that Tony didn’t think him capable of. “How are you feeling? Should I get Bruce?”

“For medical reasons? No. But for personal reasons? Absolutely.”

Tony watched The Captain roll his eyes, a small smile gracing his face. “Have a crush already, do we, Stark?”

“Jealous?” asked Tony with a raised eyebrow, glancing down to where The Captain was still holding his arm. The Captain blushed furiously, dropping Tony’s arm as if it were fire, and taking a few steps back.

Mission accomplished, Tony changed the subject. “You have a nice little chat with that Hammer drone?”

The Captain seemed relieved at the change of subject. “Yeah, I think I got something out of him.”

“And?”

“Don’t worry. I had Thor and Buck take care of him already. None of this should reach back to you.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” drawled Tony. “Now. What’d the man spill?”

“A name,” replied The Captain. “He let something slip about ‘The Monger’. Sound familiar?”

Tony shook his head, his mind coming up blank. “HYDRA?”

“Could be. Whoever it is, they’re the closest thing we have to a lead right now. You sure you’re feeling alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Tony said proudly, blatantly ignoring how his arm still felt like fire from when Barnes grabbed him.

“Alright then,” The Captain said with a nod, walking back towards the office door. “Time to call a family meeting.”  

Chapter Text

“How did this happen?” Hammer snapped, looking at his lackey’s lifeless body.

The other man shifted uneasily on his legs- Drumm, his mind supplied- twisting his worn hat between his hands. “Well, boss. I don’t really know. I was waiting at the rendezvous point as planned and then Carl stumbled over, looking, well, looking like that,” the man stuttered out, gesturing to the dead body in front of them.

Hammer glared at him, urging him to continue. “He tried to tell me something and then- boom. Bullet in the head. All he managed to get out was ‘The Captain’.”

Hammer balled his hands in his fists, repressing the urge to kill the frightened man in front of him. Dammit. This shouldn’t have happened. They had them! They were so damn close to finally getting their hands on The Captain and his new business partner. But, no. Anthony Stark had to, yet again, go ahead and ruin everything they’d worked for.

Hammer should have been used to it by now; Stark had always been one step ahead. Better ideas, better weapons, better hair. Tony Stark had everything. And Justin Hammer would be the one to take it away from him.

Since Pierce had been adamant to finally capturing The Captain, it was easy for Hammer to fall on board once he found out that he had the bonus of dealing with Tony Stark as he saw fit. With the arrival of their new associate, The Monger- Obadiah Stane- Hammer had felt nothing but unease. While he should have been happy that Stark’s own business partner was out for him, Hammer knew that Stane would just be another road block on his journey to be the top weapon’s dealer in New York.

Whatever, he said to himself. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Hammer turned to face Drumm again when the doors burst open to reveal a flustered Alexander Pierce. He took one look at the body and his face hardened.

“It seems Stane’s plan didn’t have the ending we were hoping for,” mused Hammer. Maybe if he pushed Pierce in the right direction, he would just drop Stane and kill both him and Stark.

“Just a little bump,” retorted Pierce.

“A bump?! Do you know how many men I lost today?!” shouted Hammer. After Drumm had brought in the first body, Hammer had immediately sent him back out in search of the rest of the men he sent to deal with The Commandos. It had ended the same; Tony Stark still out of reach and more dead bodies laying at his feet. How that rag-tag group of imbeciles managed to mow down some of his best guns had Hammer seething in anger. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't what I signed up for. 

Pierce rolled his eyes, scoffing. “If you thought you were leaving that warehouse with all of your men intact, then you really are naïve. I’ll reimburse your loses; it’s not like these nobody’s are hard to replace,” Pierce drawled, eyeing Drumm, who was still trying to make himself disappear in the corner.

Hammer watched as Pierce approached the body slowly, taking in all the apparent injuries. “They did do a number on this one,” he said. “The Captain has quite the temper, it seems. We must have him flustered then,” Pierce continued with a small smile.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if The Captain and his men had been prepared for you, they would have just sprayed your boys down like they were nothing. The fact that they sent one of them back like this? That means they weren’t ready. We got a little too close for them. See this, my friend, is not just a body. It’s a message. The Captain is getting worried. He’s close to slipping.”

Hammer nodded in agreement. “What do you suggest we do to finally push him over the edge?”

Pierce idly picked at one of his fingernails. “Oh, Stane’s already taking care of that.”

Hammer snorted. “Oh, yeah? What’s he got in his arsenal that can scare The Captain?”

Pierce turned to look at his associate, staring at him with a feral grin. “I didn’t say anything about scaring The Captain.”

Tony sat down in the chair carefully, groaning softly to himself. Although his arm was a constant throbbing, Barnes’s threats were the only thing plaguing him right now. Tony had been lucky that Cap was right there; he knew that Barnes could be a loose cannon if he wanted to. Tony would have to keep a closer eye on him; there was no way he would be able to win the war if he was fighting battles on both sides.

He closed his eyes, trying to get comfortable. He could feel the weight of The Captain’s gaze on him, but Tony never opened his eyes. There were more pressing matters at hand; the last thing Tony needed was another mother henning from the mob boss.

Another door opened, Tony hearing the steps of The Commando’s fill the room, finding their places for their ‘family meeting’, as Cap had put it. Gag me with a spoon, Tony thought to himself. Seriously, who would have thought that the mob man would have been this wholesome? It was sickening. Tony wasn’t really tracking their conversations, but he did hear a few questionable murmurs, most likely due to his presence. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but soon his flanks were warmed by the appearance of other bodies, everyone trying to squeeze into the same room.

“Everyone here?” The Captain’s voice caused Tony to stir, finally taking in the rest of the room. He was happy to find out that Bruce Banner had been one to sit next to Tony, offering him a small smile when their eyes met. Spread around them were the rest of The Commandos, each in a different state of disarray; no doubt they had already heard what had happened. Odinson was leaning against the back wall with a stern face that Tony had never seen before. Barnes was seated next to The Captain, but was leaning away, most likely still licking his wounds from their earlier encounter. The brunette seemed to be blatantly ignoring the heavy looks he was being sent from Romanoff, but Tony couldn’t blame him. He didn’t think he could survive a look like that. Someone must have roused Barton, because he was there, sitting quietly with a lot more color than the last time Tony had seen him. The officer, Coulson, was there, and seriously, who let him in? The man was still in full uniform, gun and everything, and no one even looked at him twice. He was squished next to Barton, a blank look adorning his face, and an arm thrown protectively over the- ah. Now wasn’t that just a Shakespearean tragedy: The Copper and the Crook. How cliché were these people?

“Alright then,” The Captain sighed. “Let’s get started.” He was seated at the head of the table, looking just as tired as Tony felt. “I’m sure everyone’s been briefed on what happened at the warehouse,” he said. “You’ll all be happy to know that we pulled away with a win,” The Captain added with a brief glance at Tony.

“However, I think this job was a reminder that we aren’t as invulnerable as we like to think. It’s been a while since we faced a threat such as HYDRA. We can’t keep running around with our heads in the sand.”

“Did you get anything from Hammer’s man?” one of the men asked.                        

The Captain shook his head. “Not much, just a name. He calls himself ‘The Monger’. Ring any bells with anyone?”

It wasn’t surprising that Romanoff was the one to speak up. That woman knew everything. “I’ve heard whispers. Just a shadow that deals with the Ten Rings.”

A few resounding groans echoed through the room. “That’s just great,” drawled Barton. “HYDRA has their hooks in everyone.”

The Captain hummed. “It makes sense. They need a way to build up their numbers somewhere. What do you think?”

It took Tony an alarmingly long amount of time to figure out The Captain was talking to him. “Ahh-what?” he asked eloquently. Since when was he a part of this meeting?

The Captain didn’t budge. “I know you have files compiled on every big time mob in New York. That makes you the expert here, so I’m gonna ask again. What do you think?”

A pleasant flutter passed through his chest, like a giddy school boy realizing that the teacher had chosen him to lead the class. It made him want to puff up his chest at Barnes as if to say 'I'm worth more to him than you think!' . That thought made his pause for a moment, looking down at his hands. Did he want this? Here he was, sitting with the people that had, last month, aimed loaded guns at him at the very same table. Was he ready to break bread with them? 

He knew it was impossible to avoid working with The Commandos in this fight against HYDRA, but The Captain had usually distanced himself from the rest of the crew. And Tony had been more than fine with it; he stayed on his side, they stayed on theirs. But this, sitting at their table, sleeping under their roof? No wonder Barnes is getting volatile. To them, Tony was still an outsider, an unknown variable that was yet to be determined as friend or foe. It seemed that they were only going on the word of The Captain - which, to be honest, could mean anything, as Tony wasn't exactly sure where they stood either. 

He could still feel heat of his anger smoldering in his veins. Cap bringing in Odinson in the way he did was a mistake, but Tony didn't exactly handle it with grace either. This game that they were playing with each other was childish, and after the consequences of today, Tony knew he had to change his tune. Maybe that's why The Captain invited him here, to finally sit with his family. An extension of an olive branch. It was the start of something more meaningful between the two of them; he knew it, Cap knew it. Barnes sure as hell did. 

It was impossible to avoid his fathers voice through his head. "Don't get involved." 

"Tony?" Tony startled, head snapping to the mob boss. The blonde smiled slightly, nodding encouragingly. 

An olive branch, indeed. 

"Don't get involved." 

No. Screw you, Howard. 

Tony ran a hand over his goatee, his fingers scraping through the coarse hair. “The Ten Rings? Definitely one of the more seedier groups you'll meet on the street. More of a hit squad than a mob. You have a problem and they’ll take care out it, as long as you make it worth their while. The only loyalty they have is to money. Maybe The Monger is HYDRA's bank; assuming that he had enough influence, he could get the Ten Rings to act as their personal hit squad.”

“A hit squad shouldn’t be too much of an issue. We’ve got the numbers, we can probably take them out,” someone responded. Dugan, was it?

“Not a good idea,” Tony continued. “Given the right price, these people would do anything. That’s what makes them so dangerous. Provoking them while we’re in the middle of this shit storm probably wouldn’t be your finest move.”

“So, we shouldn’t engage?” inquired The Captain.

“Not until I can give you a solid number on how many there are. Taking one of their men to find The Monger won’t be worth it when the rest of the pack starts butchering New York with a craving for your blood.”

The Captain ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Alright, we’ll find The Monger another way.” He looked back to the rest of his men. “Get your feelers out. The Monger may be our next link to the man puppeteering HYDRA.”

People made a move to stand, but a hand from The Captain had them instantly back in their seats. “I’m not finished. As we get deeper into this, you have to understand that there will be a lot of dangerous times ahead of us. Now, I have had the pleasure of working many years with each and every one of you. Everyone here has earned my respect and friendship tenfold; you are the bravest and best people that I’ve ever known.” Tony slunk back in his chair, feeling embarrassed. Like he was walking in on an intimate family moment.

“HYDRA was and still is the greatest threat we’ve ever faced. We lost a lot the last time. Now, I will spend each and every breath that I have left in me to make sure that it won’t be like last time. But I can’t play God; there will be things that even I won’t be able to stop no matter how hard I try. That being said,” The Captain continued, “if anyone, and I mean anyone, does not want any part of this, you have every right to leave. I can get you some cash, get you somewhere safe, get you out. No one here, especially not me, will think any less of you for wanting to leave; you have each proven yourselves more than enough. Any takers?”

Tony’s eyes swiveled across the room, looking for a hand.

But it never came.

Tony sat in awe at the sight in front of him. When Tony had first met The Howling Commandos he had expected one thing: a group of stone cold killers from all the stories whispered on the streets. But this? It was just like his initial interaction with The Captain himself; they were able to throw him through such a loop, that his mind couldn’t process what was happening.

This was a mob.

That old-timey Capone mob. A band of brothers, putting the mob before their own blood. Tony saw it now. He saw why The Commandos were never taken down. It was almost impossible; the group before him shared such a bond, that with each hit, they get nothing but stronger. It was Sparta; King Leonidas and his three hundred men standing guard, not letting a single man get past to their home. It was Arminius and his men, defending their Germanic homeland from invasion. It was William Wallace and his Scots battling for freedom on The Stirling Bridge. It was Davey Crocket and his fellow Texans standing tall in the Alamo’s last stand. It was Paul Revere and the Minutemen leading a revolution on the fields of Lexington and Concord. It was the Allies with one final push against a final Blitzkrieg in the British skies.

No. 

It was The Captain and his Commandos.

Tony himself could even see the proud gaze The Captain gave all of his men. “Alright then, moment’s over. But, before anyone- ”

The Captain was cut off by a shrill tone of Tony’s phone. He jumped, immediately scrambling to get it, pointedly ignoring the glares he was receiving from everyone. Pulling the phone out, he saw it was Pepper.

Shit.

Tony had just spent countless hours with these people. He didn’t even know what day it was. Well, he wouldn’t know that anyway, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, was that Tony had gone off grid for a large amount of time. Pepper would be pissed. And that’s not even getting started on Obie.

Tony clicked decline, however, quickly turning his phone’s sound off. The real world could wait a few more minutes. He shot The Captain an embarrassed look, trying to push himself farther in the cushions of his chair. The Captain gave him nothing but an odd glance, causing Tony to flush harder.

“Alright, as I was saying. I may or may not have gotten a little too rough with Hammer’s man.” A few snorts and quiet laughs answered the blonde. “Just a head’s up that he probably won’t be happy with what I left him. If everyone is staying, then you should now that it’s gonna get heavy real fast. I would apologize for my rash decision but no one spills a Commando’s blood without hearing from me.”

Tony could feel his phone vibrate within his hands. Dammit. Pepper was really pissed.

The Captain nodded. “That should be it. Go on; do your jobs and get me some info. But remember, stay close to home and always have someone watching your six. If there was ever a time- ”

“All units, respond. We’ve got a 10-55 in eastern Manhattan.”

This time, everyone jumped at the sound of Coulson’s radio going off.

“10-55?” Tony found himself asking.

“Dead body,” responded The Captain.

“Do you think they found Hammer’s guy?” asked Barton.

“No,” retorted Barnes, opening his mouth for the first time. “He was going to meet with another one of Hammer’s lackeys. They took care of the body already.”

“- I repeat. All units, we have a 10-55, now confirmed at Stark Industries- ”

Tony’s blood ran cold.

The Captain turned to look at him with wide eyes. “Did they just say- ”

But Tony didn’t listen for the rest. He was out of his seat, pushing through the crowd with renewed vigor, running for the door. Racing outside he found himself lost as to what to do, heart pounding but frozen like a deer in headlights.

“Hey!” Tony spun around to catch the car keys that were being thrown at him. Tony saw The Captain point to his car that he drove over to the warehouse with Odinson. Tony sprinted over to the car, not even commenting when The Captain sidled in to the passenger seat.

Tony didn’t remember the drive to SI, his speeding car echoing the thoughts that were racing through his head. There were already cops at the scene when they pulled up, but Tony didn’t even slow his movements. Killing the engines, he got out and began pushing through the crowds. A few policemen tried to stop him, but Tony snapped at them until they let them through.

The sight that was waiting for them, however, was one that Tony wished he never had to see.

Two bodies, slumped against each other lay right in front of the main doors. Their pristine clothing and white lab coats were almost indistinguishable underneath the river of blood that surrounded them. A flash of plastic against the sun had Tony noticing the SI badges the two currently wore. The damage that was done was immeasurable; Tony wouldn’t be able to figure out who they were if he tried. In between the two lay a sign, hand written in blood. Tony felt his knees buckle, The Captain’s strong arms barely catching him in time as he read the sign.

You send us a message, we send you two back.

Your move. 

Chapter Text

“They were married, you know.”

Steve almost jumped, Tony’s harsh voice breaking the long silence. It was the first thing Steve had heard from him in days; the attack on Stark Industries still fresh in his mind. Steve himself still saw their blood every time he shut his eyes.

You send us a message, we send you two back.

Your move.

Steve’s eyes read the sign quickly, barely able to refocus before Tony wavered, his body collapsing towards the ground. Steve easily caught him, trying to drag him away even as Stark was trying to push closer.

“Get off me,” Stark hissed, continuing to pull back to the carnage.

“Stark! Tony, stop!” Steve grabbed at Tony’s face, forcing the brunette to meet his eyes. “They’re dead, Tony.”

“No,” Tony shook his head. “It’s fine; I can help them. I can fix this!”

“Tony, listen to me. They’re gone; there’s nothing you can do.”

Steve watched as Tony’s wide eyes flickered back to the bodies before taking in their surroundings. It was loud; police were shouting at spectators to get back, the pedestrians trying to push their way forward to get a glimpse at the crime scene. Cameras and police lights were flashing, someone was screaming, the ambulance wailing.

But out of everything, Steve only had eyes for one man. He watched Tony’s demeanor, the emotions flashing across his face at a million miles per minute before it settled on an empty one. It was one Steve had seen before when a frail man broke in the streets of Brooklyn; Atlas finally collapsing from the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Steve pulled Stark close to him. “No, don’t do it here. Don’t give them the benefit; don’t let them see you break.”  

Steve felt Tony’s body shudder, followed by a gasping breath. He watched as the engineer stood back up, chin tall as he looked back at the bodies. Steve could see his hands balled into fists, so he reached out to grab Tony’s shoulder. “We’ll find whoever did this," he promised. "Don’t do anything stupid; we need a plan.”

Tony had given a small nod, before his head snapped back into the crowd, his brown orbs darting wildly throughout the throng of people. Quickly, he turned back to face Steve before pushing him away. “Leave.”

Steve startled, looking at the man with wide eyes. “Wait, what?”

“Cap,” Tony almost pleaded. “Remember last time they attacked SI? You told me that HYDRA could be waiting in the crowd to finish the job. There could be someone out there now! You need to leave; it’s not safe for you here.”

Steve took a step towards Tony. “I’m not leaving you here. You’re already injured, and- ”

“Not an option, Cap,” Tony interjected. “I’ll be fine. I can deal with this.”

Steve shook his head. “It’s not safe for you either.” Steve tried to pull Tony away from the crowd again. “Come with me, we can regroup and figure something out.”

Tony drew himself away. “I need to keep the rest of my people safe, Cap; you should go back and do the same,” Tony said with an earnest look. “Go. Come back when it’s safe.”

Regardless of how much he hated it, Steve found himself nodding, already tracking back into the shadows. He’d wait until the commotion died down. And then he’d come back for Tony. The two of them would figure out a solution. They had to.

Which is how Steve found himself in Tony’s office three days later. When Tony never called him after the incident, Steve took it upon himself to reach back out. Using his old disguise from the weapons demonstration, Steve had walked back into SI donning a fake military uniform, claiming to have a meeting with Tony Stark. A few lies and innocent smiles at a blushing receptionist, and Steve was in.

Steve knew that Tony had seen him come in, but the man hadn’t said anything for a while. He just stared out at his window overlooking Manhattan, nursing a drink.

“Who?” Steve found himself asking.

“You know who.” Images of blood stained lab coats flashed through Steve’s head.

“Tony- ”

“They had a kid,” Tony continued, the man staring down into his whiskey glass. “A boy.”

Steve hung his head. Steve was no stranger to losing parents pretty early in life, but this? Steve’s heart broke for the kid that lost his parents in such a brutal way. The kid didn’t deserve this, his family didn’t.

“Is he?”

“They sent the kid to live with his aunt I think. I don’t know.” Steve highly doubted that. Steve knew for a fact that Tony would have made sure that the child would be taken care of and set for the rest of his life.

“Tony, come on. You can’t keep hiding in your office like a- oh. I didn’t realize you had company.”

Steve spun around to be met with two new faces. One was a gorgeous redhead, with a polite face and kind eyes. Her posture spoke volumes of headmistress, while her aura brought forth a feeling of a loving caretaker. Pepper, Steve’s mind supplied, remembering all the times Tony blabbed on about the accomplished woman.

The other newcomer, Steve was not familiar with. The man was large, his dead eyes seemingly fixed on Steve since he walked into the room. He had a grim frown and a hardened face that had Steve’s insides churning.

Tony jumped, immediately flustering. “Oh, right. Um, this is, Captain, um- ”

“Grant,” Steve interjected with a poster boy smile. “Joseph Grant.”

Pepper returned with an equally charming grin. “A pleasure, Captain. I’m terribly sorry for interrupting. I wasn’t aware Ton-Mr. Stark had a business meeting.”

“Neither did I,” the other man ground out.

“It’s not a problem, ma’am,” Steve returned to Pepper, completely ignoring the other man.

“Oh, please, Pep. You know I wouldn’t ever schedule a meeting myself,” Tony laughed, finally catching up with their current situation. "Nothing more than a social visit, right Grant?” Steve gave the group another smile as Tony continued. “Well then, Grant. This is the lovely Virginia Potts, my PA, and probably the only reason he head is still screwed on straight. And this,” Tony gestured to the man,” is my business partner, Obadiah Stane.”

So, this is Stane. Tony didn’t mention him much, but Steve had a feeling his first impression was enough to go on. Stane did not sit well with Steve. With the tight grip he shook Steve’s hand and the glares he shot him, Steve knew the feeling was mutual.

“Captain Joseph Grant, you said?” questioned Stane. “I’ve never heard of you.”

Tony came up behind Steve and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Joe here- well, he’s a- ”Tony paused, looking at Steve.

“-friend.”

“Colleague,” Steve said at the same time.

Steve couldn’t help but startle. Friend?  Steve’s eyes tracked over Tony’s face, finding a questioning look. No turning back now, Rogers, he thought to himself. Steve gave Tony a small, private smile before turning back to the newcomers. “Friend,” he agreed, with a nod of his head.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asked.

“You haven’t been yourself since the incident,” replied Stane.

Steve frowned at the balding man. How the hell was Tony supposed to act after something like this had happened? In fact, Stane looked as if he was the only one out of character here, acting almost distant and unbothered by the fact that two of his employees were just found butchered in the street. 

“It wasn’t an incident, Obie. Our employees were murdered in cold blood. Innocent people died because they worked for me.”

Steve let out a hum in agreement, Stane snapping his attention over to him. Go ahead and look, Steve thought viciously, staring right back. 

“Tony,” Pepper said gently. “You can’t do this to yourself. Go take a day off and rest; we’ll hold down the fort.”

Steve smiled at Pepper again. When Tony had first mentioned Pepper, back in one of their meetings in Hogan's hospital room, Tony confessed to Steve that it took only moments to know that he needed Pepper.

"To be honest, I didn't put much stock into here when she first came in," Tony uttered over the steady beat of the EKG. "I went through a personal assistant every week; there was no reason for me to think she was anything special." 

"What changed your mind?" Steve asked, curious. 

"She came stomping over to me with a pile of contracts. 'These need to be signed,' she said. I told her I would get to it when I get it. She threw those papers down on my desk and snapped, 'You'll do them now,'" Tony laughed, lost in the memory. "I looked her and said, 'Do you know who I am? I'm the CEO of this company, I can do what I want, when I want.' She just took a pen out of my desk and handed it to me. 'Do you know who I am?' she asked. 'I'm the PA for the CEO. I make his schedules. That means you do what I want, when I want.'" 

Steve chuckled, his head bowing in laughter. "She sounds terrifying." 

"Oh, she is," Tony smiled back. "But I love her anyway." 

Now, meeting Pepper for the first time, seeing her place a comforting hand on Tony's arm, he could see how Tony knew right away that she was something special. She wore a comforting smile, but her eyes remained sharp, like a mother bear, fully prepared for any threat against her cub. Tony was lucky to have her. Such a strong woman; so caring and loyal but fierce all at the same time. She was just like- no, not now.

“This was a professional hit. The attack was aimed at me, and they’re using my people to get to me. I’m not going to sit idly by and let that happen,” Tony snapped.

“Tony, my boy, Pepper’s right. Take a vacation; get out of New York for a while. It isn’t safe for you here,” Stane tried to argue.

“Whoever it was, they know my address. If they want me, they can very well come get me.”

Steve’s lips couldn’t help but tug into yet another smile. While it should have been considered reckless, Steve admired the fact that Tony stood fearless while staring down at the barrel of HYDRA’s gun. Must run in the family, he mused. 

“Tony- ” Stane tried again, but was quickly cut off.

“Don’t, Obie. Not now.” Tony went back and downed the rest of his drink. “We’ll deal with this later,” he said, clearly issuing a dismissal to Stane and Pepper.

Pepper nodded, and started to usher Stane out of the room. “It was nice to meet you,” she said passing Steve. Steve returned the pleasantry before turning back to Stane.

“Captain,” the man hissed out, before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

Silence once again filled the room, leaving just Steve with Tony again.

"I like her," Steve blurted out. 

Tony snorted, looking out of his office window. "Told you." 

Steve walked around the desk, standing to Tony's right. “Joseph Grant, huh?” Tony continued. 

Steve shrugged. “Who knows? Could be my real name. I’ll leave you to your deductions.”

Steve saw a small smile grace Tony’s face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Steve had seen how worn the man looked from before, but this last attack seemed to be eating Tony alive.

“You, know, maybe they’re right. Maybe you should take a day,” Steve suggested.

Tony shook his head. “Not while they’re still out there.”

Steve sighed, plucking Tony’s empty glass out of his hand. Instead of putting the glass back, he found himself refilling the tumbler, as well as pouring another for himself. Steve gave the glass back to Tony, the two of them leaning against Tony’s desk as they stared out the window. “You’re right. This can’t happen again; we need to keep our people safe. HYDRA needs to be dealt with.”

“Hear, hear,” Tony agreed, quietly clinking his glass against Steve’s before taking a long swig.

“So, friend,” Steve continued. “You got a plan?”

Tony nodded distantly, his brain no doubt already locking the beginnings of a solution locking into place.

“You gonna share with the class?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

Tony rolled his eyes dramatically. “Come on, Cap. Trust me on this one,” he said with a smile.

Steve snorted, but found himself smiling back. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Two Weeks Later

Steve made a sharp turn right, darting down a back alley, hoping to cut off his target. He dodged the littered garbage cans and scaled a fence, heart pounding tight in his chest. Steve urged his legs faster as he ignored protests from his muscles. He had a late start; he needed to catch up with his slippery foe as quickly as possible.

Cutting the next corner, Steve saw him. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as his much larger stride pulled him closer. Steve pushed through the crowd the man was trying use as an escape and when he found a clear path, Steve took a leap and tackled his victim to the ground. Not wasting any time, Steve grabbed the man as he tried to stand back up, pushing him against a brick wall.

“Stark,” he growled.

The other man struggled against Steve’s hold. “Ah, long time no see, friend. How’s it going?” Stark smirked.

Steve pushed him harder against the wall. “I don’t have time for your shit. Not after what you’ve done.”

Stark gave a hollow laugh. “I could say the same for you.” With that, Tony’s leg jutted forward, giving Steve a sharp knee to the groin.

Steve relinquished his hold on Stark immediately, the other man darting away from his grip. Steve turned to face Stark opposite him, giving him the same death stare he was receiving. He could see people looking at the two of them; they weren’t exactly in private. But it didn’t matter, none of it mattered. Not with what was at stake.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” Steve said.

Stark gave a snort. “Please. If you didn’t think that this was how it was going to end, then you were fooling yourself.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, but didn’t bother responding. Instead, he surged toward Stark, swinging a fist towards his face. It hit the target perfectly, but Stark managed to roll with the blow, the shorter man’s elbow coming up to catch Steve along the side.

Ignoring the sharp pain, Steve tore back at Stark, blood pumping fiercely through his veins. While Stark managed to clip him here and there, the man was no match for someone like Steve. Steve could see the man slowing down, his moves becoming sluggish as Steve tore more and more pained groans from Stark with each hit he landed.

It wasn’t until Steve was able to sweep his legs, causing Stark to collapse in the street, that Steve finally got a full look at him. Stark looked up at him with wide eyes, chest heaving. His suit was in disarray; rips had formed from tearing through obstacles, mud and blood splatters littered the fine cloth from their scuffle. The brunette locked eyes with Steve, his face hardening to give a stone-cold glare. “Well, go on. Finish it,” he snarled.

Steve reached behind him and pulled out his weapon from his waistband. He cocked his gun and leveled it with Stark’s temple. “Tell me, Stark. Was it worth it?" 

Chapter Text

Tony’s heart was leaping out of his chest as he stared down the barrel of The Captain’s gun. His eyes darted around, trying to find a way out.

“Don’t bother,” The Captain sneered. Tony shivered - he'd never heard the man sound that way, even when they first met. “There’s nowhere for you to run anymore.”

“Captain,” Tony pleaded. “Listen to me; it needed to be done.”

“Don’t try and defend yourself,” retorted The Captain, his grip tightening on his gun. Tony's eyes were glued to the finger resting on the trigger; one wrong word and its all over. 

“I had to protect my people!” argued Tony. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing in my position.”

“Stop lying,” hissed The Captain. “You did what you did to protect your own ass. Lucky for you, you get to die with the rest of us now.”

Tony’s blood froze in his veins as he watched the gun shift to aim at his head. “Wait, wait, please.”

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

Both men jumped when they heard the voice. People had gathered watching the scene - the ones that hadn't run screaming at the first sight on the gun - drawn to it like a moth to a flame, but an older gentlemen had stepped forward courageously towards the two fighting men.

Tony almost sobbed in relief. Thank God for innocent bystanders.

Using the distraction to his advantage, Tony pushed The Captain towards the crowd while running the opposite direction. People were screaming; whether they were yelling at The Captain or him, Tony didn’t stop to find out. I need to get away, Tony thought, as he tried to lose The Captain in the crowd. How the hell had this happened? Things had been going so well; it wasn't supposed to happen this way! 

The Captain’s voice echoed loudly behind him. “Barton!”

Immediately, a searing pain tore up his arm.

Shit, shit, shit, Tony’s mind raced as he felt warm blood slide down his arm. Tony spun around, trying to locate Barton, but it was no luck. The streets were crowded, the buildings pressed close together. Tony would have an easier time finding a needle in a haystack than finding the sniper. He darted to the left suddenly, hoping that the awnings branching from the buildings would supply cover from the sharpshooter.

Diving into an alley, Tony slipped in between two dumpsters, trying to catch his breath. Because they were traversing through Manhattan, Tony had some edge on The Captain and his men, knowing these streets a lot better than they did. But that could only get him so far. Besides, if Barton was there, Tony already knew he was screwed.

Because if Barton was there, Barnes wouldn’t be far behind.

There was no one without the other. The Captain’s dynamic duo; one to draw the prey out while the other waits patiently to slit their throat in a dark corner. If Barton’s hiding somewhere up above, Tony knew there was only a matter of time before Barnes had him pinned. For all Tony knew, the brunette was probably in this alleyway with him right now.

I need my vehicle.

Tony had been meeting a potential investor for a business lunch when The Captain decided to attack. In a fight or flight response, Tony had immediately darted into the crowds, hoping that The Captain wouldn’t want to fight him around innocents. But, no. The Captain was beyond pissed; he was positively murderous. The only way he could ditch the crew was through motor transport, which Tony had left back at the restaurant. And since he didn’t have time to find a car that he could steal, his car was his only option. No cab driver was going to stop for him. But therein lies a problem. The Captain had attacked when Tony was getting out of his car. Meaning that The Captain’s car was right next to his, not giving Tony much of an advantage. But seeing as running all the way back to safety was out of the question, it was a risk Tony was going to have to take.

Or is it?

Across the street, Tony eyed a general store. He was working his day job, so he hadn't brought his own gun to defend himself - which given the threat of HYDRA out there (and now apparently The Captain), it probably wasn't the smartest move. But hey, Tony was a law abiding citizen; or at least trying to convince people that he was. That meant that he would have to get creative if he wanted to escape. The convenience store would be his ticket out of there. Tony took a deep breath before shooting out across the street, sprinting to make it in the shop before he was gunned down by The Captain’s eye in the sky. He burst inside, barely giving him time to relish in the fact that he hadn't been shot again before quickly ducking down a side aisle, looking for ideas.

The store was small, and although it was luckily uncrowded, Tony pulled his arm close to his chest, hoping no one would notice the blood staining his jacket. His eyes darted around the room, not wanting to waste another precious minute, looking for tools. It wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for: a bag of sugar and some water bottles. Tony smiled, bundling the products in his arms. Just like college all over again. God, I wish Rhodey were here. 

Looking down in his arms, Tony found himself frowning. This was going to be a problem. Sure, Tony had the cash on him to pay for the items but there was no way he could get out of there without raising suspicion. Especially with his arm drenched in blood. Stealing it is. He stuffed the items in his suit jacket, trying to think of a way out of the store when he saw it.

WD 40.

Tony found himself grinning. Oh, it is on.

He snatched a bottle of that as well, jamming the spray can in his back pocket. That should be enough, he thought to himself. It wasn't as if he could carry anything more. Now, he just had to make it out of the store and back to where the cars were. Luckily, while Tony had been running throught the street to keep away from The Captain and his mutts, he tried to force them around in a loop, so Tony was only a few measly blocks away from his car. All Tony had to do was make it back without getting another bullet shot into him and he would be golden.

But how to get out of the store?

There was only one teller working today, looking extremely disinterested in the store - like any teenager would - flipping through a trash magazine with a bored expression on her face. Tony could just make a run for it, but he was still a celebrity. One quick glance from the teenage girl and he knew it would be mere seconds before he was trending on Twitter for petty theft. And wouldn't that be the real kicker - he'd dodged the cops for years, staying a few moves ahead to never get caught. But with one tweet, he could lose his entire empire and end up behind bars, all for stealing some sugar. How very Capone. 

He slipped down the produce aisle, looking around. Down at the other end, there was a mother with her young child, looking at the canned items. Bingo. Tony quickly snatched an orange from the shelf and lobbed it towards the family. The fruit was right on target; it crashed right into a display of canned green beans, the cans going flying in each direction.

The mother spun around quickly as Tony ducked behind the fruit, the woman only seeing the ruined display and the child. The mother started to scold the child instantly as the cashier made his way back to the ruckus. Seeing his window, Tony waited for the employee to pass him before dashing out of the store, stolen goods in hand.

Back on the street, Tony immediately dashed back in the direction of the restaurant, cursing when he heard a shout. Turns out The Captain’s men were a lot closer to him then he originally thought. Tony ignored them, his mind focused purely on reaching the cars. As he was running, he uncapped the water bottles, letting the liquid flow down onto the street. He also tore open the sugar bag, dumping most of it off to the side of the road, hoping that the trail he left wouldn’t be noticed by the men chasing him.

His muscles burned but he pressed forward, gasping in relief when he saw the cars. Instead of heading straight to his, Tony ran up alongside The Captain’s, dropping the unfilled water bottles and near empty sugar bag to the ground and opened the gas tank.

That should do it.

Tony turned to run back to his car when he found himself flung down to the pavement. Searing pain coursed through his body as Tony looked up at his attacker. James Barnes looked down at him, a malicious grin donning his face. “I gotta hand it to you, Stark. You’re a wily one,” he sneered as he pulled out his gun.

Tony’s brain flew into overdrive, the smaller man scrambling back up and away from Barnes. Barnes rushed forward instantly, his hands a flurry of movement as he tried to subdue Tony again. Tony knew there was no way that he could out power Barnes, but it was a good thing that he still had a final trick up his sleeve.

He scuffled with Barnes as long as he could before the sound of his gun cocking pulled Tony away. “Barnes, you don’t have to do this,” Tony tried to reason.

The other brunette rolled his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

Tony slowly brought one of his hands behind him. “I’m just saying, there are better options.”

“Are you really trying to buy me right now?” Barnes looked at him incredulously.

Tony shrugged. “Is it working?”

“Not even close,” Barnes chuckled as he raised his gun higher. “You know, I almost feel sorry I gotta do this. Almost.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Well, I’m almost sorry too.” Tony rushed forward, pulling the WD 40 out from his back pocket aiming right at Barnes’s gun. The oil spray coated the gun and Barnes’s hand quickly, the other man cursing as he tried to pull his gun away.

Not waiting another second, Tony swept a leg under Barnes, causing the other man to crumple to the ground. He hopped over him easily, racing back towards his car when he saw The Captain pull out from the shadows, eyes locking onto Tony’s immediately. Tony ran faster, trying to beat the mob boss to his car. He scrambled for his keys in his pockets, sobbing in relief when he saw that he hadn't dropped them. Throwing the door open, Tony jumped in, narrowing missing the bullets that sprayed over his head and broke his windows.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tony whispered to himself as he jammed the key into the ignition. He could hear The Captain yelling at Barnes to get in the car. Tony saw the two men run towards their own car in his side mirror as he started to pull away.

Still looking at the two men, Tony could see the exact moment The Captain saw the treat he left for them. The Captain stared at the empty sugar bag and water bottles, and then back to the car. Tony could barely hear him shout, “He’s ruined the gas tank! Get another car!”

Tony laughed. Idiots. He slammed down on the gas pedal, leaving the men behind.

He drove wildly, ignoring the amount of traffic laws be broke in order to reach the office. The pain in his arm was getting worse, the adrenaline finally leaving his system. Tony’s hand twitched on the steering wheel, his eyes constantly checking behind him for a tail.

Reaching SI was a bit of a blur, his body exhausted and trembling as he stumbled through his private entrance and elevator.

“JARVIS, Pepper,” he groaned, hoping the AI would understand to get him to the familiar face. When the lift stopped, Tony found himself tripping out of the door and straight into Obie.

“Tony, what the hell?”

Tony tried to stand back up, but stumbled again, this time heading right to the floor. “Tony, where the hell have you- is that blood?” Pepper almost screeched.

“Call an ambulance,” snapped Obie, his hands firmly gripping Tony’s shoulders. Tony watched as Pepper obeyed immediately, her face pale and drawn. “What the hell happened to you, boy?”

Tony sighed, looking up at the other two. “I may have fucked up.”

Obadiah Stane burst through the doors, excitement getting the best of him. He watched at Justin Hammer skyrocketed up from his chair, Pierce himself even taken aback.

“You better have a good reason for calling us in, Stane,” snapped Pierce.

Stane found himself grinning. “Oh, I think it’s worth your time.”

“What is it?” asked Hammer. “Did you catch them?”

“No,” Stane retorted. “We might not have to.”

Pierce looked at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Stane continued, “that The Captain just put a hit out on Tony Stark.”

Hammer startled. “What?"

“How did this happen?” added Pierce in disbelief.

“Because Tony Stark plastered The Captain’s identity all over the internet.”

Chapter Text

“You’re going to pull out your stitches,” chided Pepper.

Tony scowled at her, but dutifully stopped fidgeting with his arm. It had been a few days since The Captain’s attack, the tension seemingly increasing each day. Obie had fought with him about increasing Tony’s security, but Tony had shot it down; there was no way he was going to let himself go on house arrest. Pepper was absolutely flustered, like a mother hen constantly fretting over her baby chick. She checked in with Tony at all hours of the day, making it impossible for him to be anywhere else besides where he was supposed to be.

It’s for your own safety, she had said. This way, you’re here and I can keep an eye on you. Which of course, at the time, Tony thought was sickeningly sweet. Until Pepper had dragged him to God knows how many meetings. Apparently it was ‘his job’. Who knew? What Tony did know, was that he was about two more meetings away from standing in the middle of the street until he gets shot again.

Pepper, the traitor, had even got in touch with Rhodey when he was getting stitched up over at the hospital. Nothing makes a nightmarish trip to the emergency room better than getting an earful from his friend who was still halfway across the globe. It had taken Tony a full twenty minutes to talk Rhodey down from flying back to New York. Even now, Tony wasn’t sure that he even listened. 

“I think I’m gonna take a few days,” drawled Tony.

Pepper gaped at him. “Take a few days?”

“You know,” Tony continued. “Like a vacation. These past few months have been pretty exhausting; I think I deserve it.”

“Exhausting!” Pepper almost shouted. “Tony, you were almost killed! The Captain is tearing apart Manhattan looking for you, and you’re just tired? How are you so calm about this?”

Ah, there it is. Yes, everyone in New York knows about Tony’s little scuffle with The Captain and his men. Then again, there was no way Tony could hide it when they basically had a battle royal in the middle of the streets just three days ago. Turns out, despite how hard he had tried, he still ended up trending on Twitter anyway. 

The Avengers Assembly is what people are calling it. Word on the street was that The Captain had been found linked to the injuries and deaths of Stark Industries, so Tony retaliated by revealing the mob man’s name. Others say that Tony was the one to start the fighting, The Captain forced into action. Regardless of who threw the first punch, the effect was instantaneous. Mobs were gearing up, ready to choose sides in this Civil War if asked. Tony had already been on the phone with Quill about it; his forces were already rallying, no doubt The Captain’s allies doing the exact same thing. New York was thick with tension, no want wanting to stay out past dark, no one wanting to go out at all.

It was the modern day Cold War; each side was just waiting for the other to make a move before striking themselves.

“Pep, relax,” Tony interjected. “This isn’t the first tome someone’s tried to kill me.”

“But this is The Captain, Tony! He’s a serious threat and you know it,” responded Pepper. “I think we should call the authorities.”

Tony groaned. “No. Absolutely not. What the hell are they gonna do, Pep? They’re just gonna get in the way. Quit worrying; We’ll do what we always do. Lay low for a little while and then pay the big man off. See? Problem solved.”

Pepper furrowed her brow. “Something tells me that you can’t buy The Captain off.”

You're telling me, Tony thought. “Please. Every man has their price. Now, I'm gonna go relax at the safe house for a few days, and you’ve got a flight to catch.”

“A flight?”

Tony checked his watch. “Yeah, the jet leaves for England within the hour, I believe.”

“England?" Pepper blinked at him. He relished in the quick face of uncertainty she pulled, memory tracing through her schedule to see what she had missed. It wasn't every day that Tony was able to pull one over on his scrupulous assistant, but it was worth it every time. "What are you talking about?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “The potential merger deal? Don’t tell me you didn’t read the schedule,” he said with false dramatics.

Pepper scoffed, insulted. “I’m the one who writes the schedule, Tony. We don’t have any business in England.”

“Well, we do now! Or might, I’m not sure. This is why I need you to scope it out for me, see if there’s anything there," Tony answered. "Shouldn’t take any more than a week. Come on, when’s the last time you’ve had decent fish and chips?”

Pepper shot him an unimpressed gaze. “And why can’t you go to the business meeting for your own company?”

“I’m a wanted man, Pep, I can’t go outside. Besides, Obie and I got to hold down the fort here. Please, Pep. I need someone I trust on this.”

Pepper sighed, placing her hands in her lap like a teacher would after holding back one of her kids after class. “Are you sure you’re not sending me to a meeting that’s a complete and utter waste of my time?” she asked, a perfectly manicured eyebrow raised that indicated that she already knew the answer. 

“Yep." Suddenly the pens on his desk - seriously who put these here, he doesn't even use pens - seemed a lot more interesting than they were before. He started to bat at one between his fingers, listening to it roll across his desk. He could feel the heat of Pepper's stare. 

A manicured hand grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to make eye contact. “And this has nothing to do with that fact that this business meeting lines up just after a mob man put a hit out on you?”

“Purely coincidental,” he smiled. 

Pepper huffed, patting his cheek lightly. “You’re a terrible liar.” Tony shot her his best wounded stare until her shoulders finally sagged. “Fine," she sighed. "I’ll go. You," she added, pointing at tony as she stood up. "Don’t antagonize anyone until I get back; I wanna watch it happen.”

Tony grinned. “A woman after my own heart.”

Pepper smirked in response. “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

“That will be all, Ms. Potts.”

Tony watched as she left, as graceful as ever, hopefully to pack. The meeting, of course, was absolute bullshit, but it was the best way to keep Pepper out of the line of fire. Tony had a feeling that things were going to escalate pretty quickly; the last thing he wanted was another innocent’s blood on his hands. Especially Pepper’s.

Going back behind his desk, he grabbed his phone, keys, as well as his handgun. He left a note with the secretary to tell Obie he was leaving even though the man was already aware that Tony would be hunkering down for a few days. If he had other plans, well, it was nobody's business. He hopped into his personal elevator, heading straight to the garage. 

The ride back home was uneventful, Tony barely noticing his surroundings as he was too lost inside his own thoughts. He bid his driver a good night, watching as the man got back in the car to drive back to SI. Instead of heading into his building, however, Tony walked back out and around the corner.

He zipped up the sweatshirt he was wearing, added a pair of shades and donned a baseball cap as he sauntered across the New York streets. Some might all it overkill, but Tony wasn’t taking any chances. No one could figure out who he was or where he was going. Tony had been dropped off at his residence by his driver, his car would never leave the property, and JARVIS would confirm that he was still at home should anyone ask. For all intensive purposes, Tony was and will remain at home, not skulking through the New York streets. He scanned the crowd, but no one paid him a second glance. He walked a couple of blocks east, staying low on the radar.

After walking for a while, Tony finally found himself in the midst of Hell's Kitchen. He passed easily through streets crowded with hungry tourists, cutting through back aalleyways. It wasn't long until the crowds had thinned out, leaving only the occasional resident passing by. A few more blocks and Tony strolled up to his final destination. He pulled out the keys he had grabbed from his office, unlocking a car on a small side street. Tony had, over the course of some years and with the help of Happy, deposited cars over different parts of New York if he ever found himself unprotected and in need of a fast get away. Or, in this case, a discrete way to get around the city.

He drove south first, than farther east, crossing a bridge and taking the most inconspicuous way he knew, zigzagging and making loops to throw off any tails. Once he was satisfied, Tony found a small parking lot and ditched the car; he would come back to get it later. 

With that, Tony hit the streets again, moving quickly and as quietly as possible. He doubled back a few times, taking the same persuasions as when he was driving, making sure he wasn’t followed. The last thing he needed was a mob’s lackeys cornering him. By the time he reached his destination, the sun had sunk way behind the cityscape, the buildings' lights flickering on in the distance. Tony cursed to himself, wishing he brought a flashlight. He was so disconnected from the main civilization that the pale moonlight was the only viable source of light. It was strange, as Tony didn't think there would be places like this left in the never sleeping New York. 

Tony found himself trekking by the East River, the waves from the water echoing loudly as they pushed to shore. Tony pulled his hat down farther, drawing farther off the main road. Not that it mattered; there was virtually no one out there, but Tony wouldn’t dare let his guard down. It seemed like forever, but he finally managed to find what he was looking for. There, hidden among the shoreline and littered beach was an old storm drain, rusted out and filled with litter that it had managed to catch from the river. With the recent surge of environmental protections, storm sewers like this hadn’t been used to push sewage into the river for years, but even still, no one thought twice when passing it by.

Getting a closer look, Tony tried to carefully step around the rotting garbage and unmentionables that had washed up from the shore, and what looked like a decomposing seagull. Tony gagged, but pushed on, safe haven the only goal in mind. The drain was enormous, leaving ample room for Tony to stand up straight as well as avoid the grimy walls. Walking a little way in, Tony was met with a rusted steel grate, most likely to stop any large debris from falling into the river. Tony bypassed it easily; part of it had been broken off, Tony able to lift it up enough for him to slip inside before it fell back into place before continuing on. The walk inside the drain, to say the least, was dreadful. The air was stale and rotten, making Tony’s eyes water, the tunnel nearly pitch black, but he pushed on none the less.

After an eternity of walking down the long tunnel, Tony saw a service ladder, leading to a large iron door. Tony breathed a sigh of relief, quickly climbing to the door. Slamming his fist against the cold metal, Tony issued three sharp bangs against the door. Tony could hear a small shuffle on the other side of the door before it gave a large creak, opening to Tony.

“You’re late,” a familiar voice called out to him.

Tony rolled his eyes fondly. “Fashionably.”

A large man stepped out of the shadows and up to Tony, a smirk adorning his face. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Stark.”

Tony huffed, easily returning the smile. “Likewise, Captain.”

Time to get to work.

Pierce shifted uneasily in his seat. Stane had come bursting in just days ago with what he had thought was the best news possible. Tony Stark and The Captain had turned on each other, leaving Stark with a price on his head, and The Captain with a name to his face.

Stane and Hammer had been over the moon. With the two of them divided, there was no way they could withstand another push from HYDRA. Tony Stark and The Howling Commandos would be brought to their knees, for good this time.

But that left Pierce with a problem. He had been the only one to know of The Captain’s real identity: Steve Rogers. With that public knowledge, not only to Stane and Hammer, but to other mobs as well, it wouldn’t be long before every mob in New York would be gunning for the man and all the secrets he held. Steve Rogers and his knowledge were worth starting a mob war over. Sure, Pierce and HYDRA were a devastating force, but trying to get to Steve Rogers before the rest of New York could prove difficult. That’s not even getting started on the backlash he is going to get now that Hammer and Stane know why he wanted The Captain for himself, leaving the two of them to deal with Stark.

Pierce groaned, rubbing a large hand over his tired face. This is not what he needed. He had no edge now, no way to ensure that he had the upper hand on the other mobs. Pierce had been preparing ever since Stane’s relay, just in case he needed to make a move on The Captain a little ahead of schedule.

He could still salvage this mission.

A sharp knock on the door pulled Pierce from his thoughts. “Yeah?” The door opened and one of his analysts breezed through. “Did you find it?” Pierce continued.

The man nodded his head. “Yeah. Not like it was hard; Stark left the information floating around for basically anyone to find it.”

Pierce groaned again. “Any way we can see who else accessed the info? See who else found the name?”

The man shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll run some back traces and see what I find,” he said as he handed Pierce the file.

Pierce nodded. “Go. Keep me updated.”  

Pierce flopped back down behind his desk, idly flipping through the file. His man was right; Stark had left The Captain’s name right in the open. While he didn’t straight up go and tweet the name to the internet, anyone with two opposable thumbs could delve through the web and find his name easily. Tony Stark had really outdone himself. It wouldn’t be long before everyone knew the name of-

What?

Pierce could hardly believe his eyes as he stared down at the files before him.

A name stared right back at him.

Joseph Grant.

Who the hell was Joseph Grant? 

Chapter Text

“Wait, what?”

Hammer stared incredulously at Obadiah Stane. Of course, he was still in shock that the man had wanted to meet with him in the first place. Sure, they were all in cahoots with Pierce and HYDRA, but it was an enemy of my enemy kind of thing. Because technically, he and Stane were competitors; they both wanted Stark gone, but at the end of the day, they’re doing it for their own reasons, and one would eventually turn on the other. With Stark gone, Stane got control of SI, and Hammer had a chance to finally get out from the shadow cast by Stark’s brilliance.

“All I’m saying is to just consider it,” Stane soothed.

“But- ”

“Hammer, you’re overthinking it. The only reason we held a connection with Pierce was because he was the only one who knew The Captain’s real identity. But now we do too!" he laughed excitedly. "I’ve actually met the man, so I can confirm Stark’s files as true. We don’t need Pierce anymore. You didn’t honestly think that he was our ally, did you?”

Justin furrowed his brow. “He isn’t?”

“Oh, Hammer,” sighed Stane, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Pierce and HYDRA are only out for The Captain. Once they got their hands on him, you didn’t think they would keep us around, did you? We would be loose ends, Hammer. HYDRA doesn’t do loose ends.”

Hammer opened his mouth, but Stane cut him off again. “Besides, why is The Captain so important to Pierce? A name like Joseph Grant doesn’t mean anything. Or anything we know of. I’m telling you, Hammer. We have The Captain’s name now; we don’t need to wait for Pierce to stab us in the back. Just think about it, alright?”

Hammer nodded, watching as Stane walked away from him, mulling his options. On one side, Pierce, who has the entire backing of HYDRA. Very helpful in the current situation as the number of people that feared HYDRA basically made him untouchable. However, it came with a lot of baggage - too many enemies. Sure, Justin had dabbled with the criminal side of New York plenty of times, but mostly as a third party. Approving things, but staying out of the way until the dirty jobs were done. Working with Pierce, however, had put him much more in the spotlight than he wanted too. Powerful people definitely had their eyes on him. The other, Stane, who has the entire backing of the military. But they had been a loyal customer to Stark Industries for years. Working with Stane would benefit him financially, there's no question, but there's no way he'd ever give up his golden egg. No, both Stark and Stane would have to be out of the picture if he wanted the military to turn its head to Hammer Industries. 

Unfortunately, he was going to have to choose one or the other. While they're partnership was in its early phases, Justin was more than happy to sit on the sidelines, only providing the occasional mercenary or bank deposit when asked. They had all been on the same side - sure, they each wanted something specific, but in order to accomplish them, they shared a common goal: the end of Tony Stark and The Commandos. But now, after this discussion with Stane, Justin could see the bridge that they'd built had collapsed; unfortunately for him, he'd let Stane and Pierce hold on to the reins for too long that he didn't see the rifts that were forming. His other partners were playing a different game, one with a more dangerous stake, and for the first time, Justin wasn't sure he wanted to participate. But something told him that he wasn't going to be able to bow out of this one. 

What the hell am I gonna do?

Tony flopped down on the musty couch in The Captain’s office, groaning softly as he closed in eyes. The stress of the past few days had definitely taken its toll; it felt good to finally take the weight off his feet. He heard The Captain follow him in, the small creaks against the floor and rustle of The Captain’s clothing a comfort to Tony’s ears.

“Here,” a soft voice said.

Tony peeled his eyes open to see The Captain leaning over him with some pain killers and water in his hands. Tony took them gratefully, flicking a small smile to the blonde in thanks. The Captain smiled back easily, leaving Tony to fall into his desk chair, sighing heavily.

“Everything go okay?” he asked Tony.

Tony nodded through another gulp of water. “Swimmingly; I should be good to go for a couple of days.”

“Good, that’s good,” replied The Captain. “Nothing unexpected on our end either; this might actually be working.”

“Yeah," Tony answered flatly, shooting the other man a glare. "Let’s back track a little. You wanna explain what ‘unexpected’ shit you pulled a few days ago?”

The Captain stared back at him innocently. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, please,” Tony continued. “That look doesn’t work on me. I thought we had a plan.”

“You had a plan,” The Captain corrected. “I liked my plan better.”

Tony grumbled under his breath, pressing himself farther into the comfy couch. “Well, I’m so glad that it worked out for you,” Tony hissed.

The Captain rolled his eyes. “It was spontaneous. You were the one who told me I needed to strut; I thought you’d approve.”

Tony scoffed at the man. “Yes, chasing me through the streets like a common criminal was super fun. Glad I can check it off my bucket list.”

The Captain crossed his arms defensively, but kept his face neutral. “Tony, come on. No one would have bought your plan.”

The plan, or the one that Tony thought they were going with, was a typical call and response. Back in his office last week, Tony and The Commando's boss stayed late into the night, perfecting it. They knew they needed to get the spotlight off of them so they could plan their next moves against HYDRA. Of course, given their rival's recent motives of massacring two of Tony's employees, they knew that both HYDRA and the police would be circling Tony's activities.

"We're not going to be able to get them off our backs," The Captain had sighed. "Not any time soon. Not after the show that they just pulled."

"Then lets give them a show right back," Tony had countered. "Right now, HYDRA knows that they will be able to find you through me. Well, why don't we cut the link? They'll be back to square one if they think we aren't working together." 

So hatched their plan. Romanoff had leaked some rumors onto the street that The Captain had been the one behind the car bomb at SI as well as the dead scientists. The public, of course, ate it all up, always looking for the next big rivalry. Tony, in response, ‘leaked’ precious information on the internet. It took a lot of convincing of course; The Captain wasn’t too eager to release one of his rock solid aliases. But in the end, Joseph Grant was born. Tony faked a few police reports to falsify Grant into existence. Then, Tony hid the files within the web, not wanting all of New York to stumble on the information. Sure, Tony made sure to tell everyone that he leaked The Captain’s identity on the internet, but unfortunately for them, not everyone could get access to it.

Tony had spread the word that he released the unredacted police files to reveal The Captain’s identity, putting the man in the system. But, since new photos are added to the criminal data base every day, no one would be able to figure out which of the new records were the one of The Captain’s. Unless they knew what he looked like. And HYDRA knew. What Tony didn’t tell everyone was that he hid a back tracer within the files that he released. That way, whoever accessed the files of Joseph Grant could be tracked by JARVIS.

And everything had gone right on track. The public bought the bullshit, Tony successfully leaking the files. The actual ‘response’ to the plan? Not so much.

It retaliation to Tony’s file leakage, The Captain and his men were supposed to attack one of his warehouses, Stark Industries having recently purchased a few new ones for manufacturing storage. While the warehouse itself wasn’t operational yet, Tony had a meeting last week with some contractors to see the progress. The Captain would, or so he had promised, show up, shoot some bullets, break some windows, throw around some threats. The usual. The contractors would see The Captain’s response, more rumors would spread, and boom. Tony Stark and The Hollowing Commandos would be at war.

But, Tony had stood through the entire meeting. And The Captain was a no show. Tony, of course, received no messages from the man for an explanation. Not that he was expecting one anyway; the blonde had told Tony that they couldn’t risk any forms of communication until their public stunt was over. Tony was worried, sure, but he trusted that The Captain would hold up his end of the bargain.

Until the rumors got back to Tony. Pepper had come in all flustered, telling him about what she heard from her secretaries.

Apparently, Tony was working with HYDRA.

Which, of course, was absolutely ridiculous. But, the more Tony thought about it, the more worried he got. Whispers of HYDRA had already been slipping through the streets, more so ever since Tony and The Captain got involved. Although the group had not gone out of their way blatantly declare their return, almost everyone knew they were back now.

The fact that people were now relating Tony to HYDRA was not good. That all these months Tony was just cozying up to The Captain, gathering intel for HYDRA. That everything was one big show. Tony knew it was complete bullshit.

But did The Captain?

Tony working with HYDRA would explain the whole Hammer situation. Tony had no idea that HYDRA would know about The Captain showing up to raid Hammer’s warehouse. Unless The Captain thought that Tony would know. Unless The Captain thought that he was the one that told HYDRA.

It wasn’t long after that that Tony went into full-fledged panic mode. He had known how angry The Captain had been at the Hammer fiasco. And while originally it was hot, The Captain’s anger focused mainly on Hammer and his men. But if The Captain somehow got it into his head that Tony was behind it?

Tony would be a dead man. The Captain’s Commandos came first; there would be no way the man could be swayed if his family was in danger.

Out of fear, Tony had skipped a few more business meetings and public appearances, trying to avoid from stepping outside his office (which he promised The Captain he wouldn’t do; the blonde wanted Tony to keep his routine the same to make everything appear normal).

So when The Captain decided to attack Tony in the middle of a rescheduled business lunch, he was about ready to shit his pants. None of it had been scripted; for a little while, Tony had been entirely convinced The Captain was actually going to kill him.

Tony had thought The Captain was screaming at him in the streets for the Hammer situation, while Tony tried to plead with the man as to why he was hiding from going out in public. Who knew that they were shouting about two completely different things? Tony sure didn’t.

It was only when Tony faced off with Barnes that he figured out it was still for show. Tony knew that there was no way that Barnes would let him live if given the option to put a bullet in his brain. It was sheer relief; Tony almost dropped the act right then and there as the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders. But no, he continued, retreating back to SI.

Even after waiting a few days, Tony was still filled with trepidation as he walked through the sewer to meet The Captain. As soon as he saw the man’s smile, however, Tony knew he was safe.

“Oh come on,” Tony argued back, pulling back from his thoughts. “That plan was foolproof. We went over it a million times!”

“That’s the problem, Tony. It was rehearsed. I didn’t think people would have fallen for our act, that’s all. Catching you with real surprise seemed to have worked much better.”

Tony raised his eyebrow. “It wasn’t surprise, Cap. I thought you were gonna massacre me.”

The Captain sent him a shit-eating grain. “See? Convincing.”

Tony had already filled The Captain in on the extra rumors he had heard as soon as he got there. Tony had explained to the man about how terrified he was, as well as conveyed in every way possible that he wasn’t actually HYDRA. The Captain, the asshole, just laughed at him. “No, Tony. Believe it or not, you’re not that subtle,” The Captain had sighed. “I think I would know if you were working with HYDRA.”  It was good to know that the man was getting a kick out of Tony almost having a heart attack.

“It doesn’t matter now,” The Captain continued. “All that matters is that it worked.”

Tony hummed in agreement as he downed the rest of the water, placing the cup of the side table before he got a whiff of his clothes.  “Jesus,” he whispered, taking another smell. “You know, that sewer was rank. Why the hell do you even use it?”

“We have to get rid of the bodies somehow,” a voice answered.

Tony turned his head to see a leering Romanoff slip into the office.  

Tony groaned. “Well, that’s just great. You owe me a new pair of shoes,” Tony snapped, jabbing a finger at the smirking Captain.

“And you owe me a new gun.”

Tony flinched at the sound of Barnes’s voice. Without even thinking about it, he pulled his gun out and tossed it to the other man. “Consider it on the house.”

Barnes caught it easily, inspecting the weapon right away. While Tony didn’t get a smile from the man, the nod of approval was more than Tony ever thought he was ever going to get. It must be Christmas.

“You’re back! Come on, let me see.”

Seriously, how many people are going to fit in this office? Tony thought as Barton raced over to the couch.

Tony rolled his eyes, but held up his arm dutifully. “Bullseye,” Barton murmured, looking at the bullet wound.

Tony had to hand it to the blonde, the shot was perfect. Tony always considered Barton a deadly shot; everyone on the street knew that Clint Barton never missed. The wound on his arm was just another proof of that. While Tony had originally thought that he had gotten lucky and dodged a disastrous bullet, him getting shot was just another part of The Captain’s plan. The bullet that Barton delivered went straight through his previous set of stitches; none of the doctors at the hospital, Pepper, or Obie discovered that he had already been shot there just weeks before, and Tony had the added bonus of not marring any other skin.

“Ten out of ten, would shoot again,” Barton responded with a smirk.

Tony scowled, pulling his hand from Barton’s grasp, resulting in a sharp pain and a wince. The Captain was over at his side in an instant. “Is it okay? Should I get Bruce?”

Tony shook his head. “No, just sore is all.”

The Captain nodded, but didn’t go back to his desk, just continuing to hover over Tony.

“So what now?” Romanoff cut in. “What’s our play?”

“Now,” Tony said as he sat up from the couch. “We wait.”

He stood up slowly, leading the group from The Captain’s office back out to the main meeting room where over half of the table was covered in computers that Tony had dropped off almost two weeks ago. Tony sat down behind one the computers, the screen flickering to life. “I put a tracker in the files I leaked. That way we can trace the computer being used to access the files.”

The Captain nodded, moving around Tony to lean over his shoulder. “We find a computer, we find a location. And then we find HYDRA.”

Chapter Text

“Don’t you ever sleep?”

Steve jolted in his chair, pencil going flying across the sketch he was touching up, and onto the floor. He looked up to see Tony leaning casually against his door frame, arms crossed loosely, slight smirk adorning his own tired face.

“I could ask the same for you,” responded Steve, leaning down to search for the lost pencil. Steve heard Tony snort as his movements kicked his pencil farther under the desk and out of sight. Steve shot Tony a final glare over the desk before sinking down to the ground for more reach.

“Need some help there, Cap?” Tony teased lightly. Steve dutifully ignored him, cursing inwardly as he knocked his head against the inside of his desk. Maybe he was more tired than he thought.

He froze when he heard Tony step behind him and clear his throat. Sighing softly, Steve pushed back from under the desk, leaning back on his knees. There, standing above him, was Tony, snickering as he twirled the pencil between his fingers.

Brown eyes trailed down the length of his body, before dragging back up to catch Steve's gaze. Tony whistled. “What a view,” he leered down at Steve.

Steve could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as his brain caught up to how he looked at Tony’s feet. Steve huffed before yanking on Tony’s arm to help him stand up straight, trying to tower over Tony as much as possible. “Please,” Steve replied, eyes giving Tony the same treatment. “I think we both know who’d really be on their knees.”

Steve smiled innocently as he watched Tony stutter over his reply, chuckling lightly as he plucked his pencil out of the brunette’s hand. Tony scowled at him, stepping in front of Steve to collapse in his desk chair, flopping his feet up on top of the desk. “In your dreams, Cap,” Tony retorted before reaching out to grab his sketch. “Now, what do we have here?”

Steve leaned forward to snatch the drawing out of his hand, but it was futile as Tony’s quick hands kept it out of Steve’s reach. He watched as Tony’s teasing glance turn soft as he looked down at the sketch. “Well, I’m not sure how you did it, but somehow you’ve managed to make me look even better.”

Steve huffed but elected to ignore Tony’s comment. The last thing he needed to do was stroke the man’s ego any further.

At some point yesterday, Steve exited his office to slip in a few hours in the gym. The sight that he was met with, however, was one that Steve would remember forever. Tony was passed out in front of his computers, the blueish tint playing out over his tanned skin. Ever since Tony had been bunking at their base, he had forgone his usual suits for old t-shirts and track pants, all with an almost constant state of bedhead, somehow making him look even more appealing. The smaller man was hunched over the desk in an almost impossible position, deep and even breaths a comfort to Steve’s ears. Steve had never seen Tony so relaxed, his face loose, calm, and wrinkle free. Steve was also pleased to see outlines of defined muscles that were usually hidden under the man’s suits, even eyeing a patch of skin than shown in the computer light from where Tony’s shirt had ridden up. The best part, however, was seeing Tony’s face smashed against the papers he was working with, drool dripping down onto them slowly. Steve couldn’t resist getting his sketch book right then and there.

“Any hits from the name?” Steve asked, trying to draw the conversation away from the sketch, finally managing to pull it from Tony's grasp. 

Tony nodded. “Sure, there have been hits, but I’m not sure if they’re who we’re looking for. I have JARVIS running a decryption on the people accessing the name, weeding out all the regular nosy hackers. Hopefully we’ll get a location on Hammer or HYDRA in the next few hours.”

“Good, that’s good,” Steve agreed, rubbing at his eyes.

“Come on, Cap. You look dead on your feet. Go get some sleep.”

“I can’t,” Steve said, pacing around his office. “I still have work to do.”

“Oh, really?” Tony scoffed. “Punching the hell out of a sand filled bag doesn’t constitute as work. There’s nothing else that needs to be done. JARVIS and I are manning the computer and your boys have the whole place on lock down. All of our bases are covered. I’ve even got a few people of my own out and about, just in case.”

Steve whirled around to face the shorter man, narrowing his eyes. “People? You mean other mobs? How much have you told them?”

Tony put his hands up defensively. “Easy, killer. They don’t know anything more than the general public knows. I may be reckless but I’m not a complete idiot. I’m not bringing anyone else in unless we agree on it, pinky promise.”

Steve ignored the pinky finger that Tony extended. “I wasn’t aware you still kept in touch with your other associates,” he said with a frown.

“I can have more than one friend,” Tony replied, crossing his arms. “Jealous, much?”

Steve snorted. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No, I just don’t like that fact you’re keeping secrets.”

“You know, that’s pretty rich coming from the guy whose name I don’t even know,” Tony snapped.

Steve looked away, his chest constricting painfully. Tony was right; he had no room to criticize the man for keeping in touch with some of his own people. Hell, Steve did that with Thor. At least Tony had the decency to keep them at arm’s length; a decency that Steve never afforded him. A part of Steve just wanted to run to Tony and spill everything; after all the man had done for The Commandos, Steve owed him at least that courtesy. Tony had proved himself enough.

But he couldn’t. Not after everything with the SSR, with Howard. Steve’s name had enough weight in the mob community for a man to do some dangerous things. That alone was a good enough reason to-

No.

No, it wasn’t a good reason.

Because there was no good reason.

Steve was just a coward.

Tony learning his name could be disastrous. Steve had just barely been able to regain the ground he had lost after his misstep with Thor. Dropping another bomb like that on Tony would probably send the man out the door for good. Steve wouldn’t risk that; not after everything they’ve been through.

See, Tony not knowing Steve’s name opened a world that Steve never thought possible. He was, even despite the current situation, almost happy.

Steve hated his name. Uttering ‘Steve Rogers’ could lead down two paths, but it always brought him back to the same place: trouble. Back when he was growing up, Steve Rogers got laughed at, beat up in alleys. Sometimes even ignored completely. No one wanted the scrawny street rat that was Steve. But after the SSR? Everybody wanted him. Everyone wanted Steve Rogers and all of his little secrets. Mobs all over were gunning to use him until he finally broke down.

Who would have guessed that the blessing of being Steve Rogers was actually nothing more than a curse?

But Tony? Tony wasn’t any of them.

He was just Tony.

And Steve was just Cap.

He didn’t see Steve as a cash cow, as a dancing monkey. He saw the real Steve and didn’t even know it. He could forget who he was with Tony. Where he’s been, what he’s seen. What he knew.

He could be normal.

And maybe that was being selfish, but Steve wasn’t ready to give that up. He couldn’t lose Tony to the name ‘Steve Rogers’. He wasn’t ready.

“I’m sorry.” Tony’s voice jolted Steve from his thoughts. “That came out harsher than intended.”

Steve shook his head. “No, it’s fine. It’s understandable.”

Tony nodded, but forced his eyes away from Steve. Acting on impulse, Steve reached over and grabbed Tony’s shoulder. “It’s not that I don’t wanna tell you, Tony. It’s just. It’s…it’s- ”

“Complicated?” Tony finished.

Steve sighed heavily and closed his eyes. “Yeah, it’s complicated.” Opening his eyes, he met Tony’s gaze while tightening the grip on his shoulder. “I do trust you, you know.”

Tony snorted. “Oh, yeah? Why is that?”

Another pain hit hard in Steve’s chest. After all that he'd already done, it still hurt Steve every time that Tony didn’t expect anything in return. Like he didn’t deserve it. That somewhere out there, someone had told Tony that he wasn’t good enough. That he wasn’t worth it. Steve was going to change that.

He stood up abruptly, finally grabbing the sketch from Tony’s hands. Making sure Tony was watching, Steve walked over to the far wall after grabbing a pin from his desk, and tacked Tony’s picture up along all the other art. “Because,” Steve said, turning to face Tony again. “You’re one of us now, a Commando. Like it or not, you’re stuck with us.”

“Pretty sure there are a lot of people out in the other room that wouldn’t agree with that decision, Cap,” Tony retorted, still looking unconvinced.

“Well, it’s a good thing none of them are in charge,” Steve joked. “Besides, they act like that whenever someone new shows up. Bucky burnt holes in all of Sam’s pants once just to try and get him to leave.”   

Tony huffed out a laugh. “Well, it’s nice to know all the good things I can look forward too.”

Steve chuckled, suddenly feeling nervous. The last thing Steve wanted was for Tony to up and run again. Adding the pressure of forcing a full time mob position might not get the results he wanted. Steve already made a mistake with Thor; he wouldn’t dare try the power play again. “Unless, of course, you-you, uh, don’t want to. It’s up to you, I mean. If you wanna join. Because, let’s face it, you’re you, and we’re, uh, us, and- ”

“Oh my god, you’re adorable. Is this how you asked everyone else to join your super-secret boy band?”

Steve blushed furiously.

“Besides, I didn’t think I qualified. Apparently I'm volatile, self-obsessed, and don't play well with others,” Tony said with a smirk.

Steve gave the brunette a small smile. “Well, I’d be lying if I didn’t think you didn’t have a rocky start. But yet, here I am asking you anyway.”

Tony gaped at him before breaking into a smile of his own. “How are you even real?”

“I’m not exactly sure how to answer that,” replied Steve.

“That’s because you’ve been awake too long.” Tony stood up before manhandling Steve over to the couch. He snapped his fingers and pointed down at the cushions. “Sleep,” he said firmly.

Steve rolled his eyes affectionately. “You know we’re not actually dogs, right?” he asked as he lay down on the couch.

“Stop throwing those sad puppy eyes around and I might actually believe you,” Tony quipped as he threw a blanket on top of him. “You need to relax, Cap. I’ll let you know the second the computer finds something, deal?”

“As long as you get some sleep too, yeah?” Steve slurred, eyes already shutting.

Tony gave some sort of response, but Steve was already drifting. He felt a warm weight push through his hair, leaving too soon for his liking. Steve made some sort of noise and tried to follow the warmth, but it never came again.

Steve drifted for a while until his brain managed to catch up with him again. It occurred to Steve that Tony had never given him an answer about coming on board to The Commandos.

It hurt, of course. Having Tony Stark on board for good would be a huge game changer for Steve and the crew. But Tony had never gone monogamous with a single mob before; Steve knew it was a lot to ask.

But, Tony also hadn’t said no; Steve would cling to that as long as he could.

Steve rubbed his hand over his face, exhaling loudly. They’d come so far; there was too much at stake now. It was so much easier when they were on their own sides, when they were on their own. The jumbled mess that they made together kept Steve’s brain spinning, even getting him to question his own allegiances.

Tony Stark should have remained a stranger.

But isn’t that what he was? Tony was an associate, nothing more than a business partner. Complete the transaction and each would go on their merry way, never to cross paths again.

Tony Stark wasn’t anybody special.

Right?

Steve tensed as his heart fluttered otherwise. 

Uh oh.

Chapter Text

Steve’s vision dragged in and out of focus, black dots dancing in front of his eyes. He could feel himself take shuddering breaths, but couldn’t hear them over the ringing in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears started to form from the plumes of smoke around him.

Steve opened his eyes long enough to see the red that dripped down onto the charred ground below him. Taking a shaking and already cut up hand, Steve dragged it across his head only for it to come back more bloody. Trying to move his aching body was futile as well; the jarring movement shot pain coursing through his body, almost causing him to lose consciousness again. Steve looked around, but saw nothing but endless walls of fire and smoke, threatening to close in around him.

This is all my fault.

4 hours earlier

Hammer sat quietly as he faced Alexander Pierce. They were holed up in one of Pierce’s many meeting spots, a safe harbor for HYDRA. Pierce was looking down at his hands, deep in thought. Hammer tried to steady his heartbeat, hoping that he had made the right decision.

“So, you’re telling me that Stane has gone AWOL?”

Pierce’s voice was hard, cold even. Of course, that was to be expected considering he just found out that one of his partners was going to stab him in the back.

When Hammer had been approached by Stane to ditch Pierce now that they could find The Captain’s identity, Hammer had found himself between a rock and a hard place. Regardless of Tony Stark, Stane was still a competitor in the world of weapons manufacturing. In the end game, they would still be enemies. Also, with the backing of both HYDRA and the NYPD, Pierce was someone Hammer was not ready to make an enemy. But, Stane had the US military wrapped around his finger; messing around with Army’s main benefactor probably wouldn’t play out in his favor either.

If Hammer was good at anything in his life, it was surviving. Why choose one side when he could play them both? Stay loyal to both sides and turn the two against each other. Then, when it came to blows, Hammer would step back, let them duke it out, and reap the rewards with the winner. He had told Stane he was in on backstabbing Pierce on the phone as he was walking to meet with Pierce about Stane’s betrayal. Hammer only hoped that this wouldn’t end with a bullet in his brain.

“Yes, Sir," Justin answered, voice dripping with false sympathy. "With us knowing The Captain’s real identity, he said we didn’t need you anymore. Cut you out of the picture. I trust Stane as far as I can throw him. How long before he deems me unnecessary? I’m not willing to take that risk.”

Pierce nodded, rubbing his chin slowly. “What’s he got planned?"

Justin shrugged. “Who knows, but he’ll probably move fast. He’s already got the name Joseph Grant, so he’s probably already searching for him.”

“Well, then we need to move faster. It’s a good thing I already have a plan.”

Hammer raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

“You remember Rumlow? Well, when The Captain and his boys picked him up, Stane had installed a tracker into his tooth; we’ve already got a potential lock on where The Captain’s base is stationed. I say we go and light up the place.”

Justin blanched. That couldn't be possible, could it? “Rumlow’s abduction was over a month ago!" he exclaimed. "Why didn’t we move sooner?”

There was no reason they should have sat on this. They knew that Tony Stark and The Captain had been working together - if they knew where The Commandos were holed up at, they could have been taken out months ago. Justin could be sitting in the Bahamas with a margarita in one hand and a hooker in the other right now. By waiting this long, they may have missed their window of taking Stark out with the rest of them. Everyone knew that Stark had managed to piss off his only ally; trying to kill both birds with one stone seemed like a pipe dream now. 

Pierce snorted. “Stane convinced me to wait. Probably just an excuse to hold us off until he could take care of them on his own. Well, screw him; I run this show. I’ll take a few of my boys down there, wait till it’s night and torch the joint. You in?”

Hammer stuck his hand out immediately to shake with Pierce’s. Sure, Tony Stark may be out of their reach due to his recent break with Grant, but The Commandos were still a force to be reckoned with. Passing up an opportunity to eradicate them would be foolish. And who knows, maybe Stark will come out of his hole with The Commandos out of the way, thinking himself safe. Nothing a simple sniper round couldn't handle, and that stain would be out of his life for good. Regardless of what happened, attacking this base will end up with Stane furious with Pierce. From then, it would only be a matter of time before one kills the other. And wouldn't that just solve the rest of his problems? Time to sit back and watch the show.

“I’m in.”

The room was silent besides the nervous tapping of Tony’s foot against the hard floor of The Commando’s base. He couldn’t remember how long he had been sitting in front of his computers, screening for people accessing his hidden virus. JARVIS was running the back trace now; it shouldn’t be too much longer before Tony had a location.

But, Tony’s incessant tapping wasn’t coming from impatience. The brunette glanced over to The Captain’s closed office door again, thinking of the man inside. Tony would be lying if he didn’t stop to admire the man as he walked in on him sketching just earlier. The man looked almost happy; his face calm as he tracked his pencil with slow, sure movements. The man’s eyes, so determined and focused, almost caring; like his entire world was zoned in on the sketch alone. It was enough to have Tony quivering in his boots.

Of course, it hadn’t helped when The Captain started flirting. Tony had taken it upon himself to try and get the man to blush at every instance he could. It was pretty easy; for a mob boss, The Captain seemed to turn beet red at almost anything Tony said. Who knew that one lewd response from the blonde would send Tony about two seconds from bending over the man’s desk. If The Captain’s voice had dropped any lower, Tony was sure that he would have creamed his jeans right then and there.

Tony would have been lying if he said he hadn’t been gunning for a quick fuck through all of this. It’s not like it hadn’t happened before; Tony ending up in bed with some of his business partners was not a rare occurrence. Just a final service for the two parties: a quick merger leaving both sides satisfied before going their separate ways. Besides, The Captain’s body was basically a sin. The man was just asking for it with the way be tried to cram his sculpted frame into those thin clothes. Whether he ended up over or under it, Tony wasn’t going to complain.

What Tony wasn’t expecting was for him to be sitting beside the man as he drifted off, pushing a hand through his dirty blond locks. Watching as The Captain try and follow his hand like a lost kitten almost broke the heart Tony wasn’t supposed to have.

But he would have to deal with that later; there were other notions that had started to plague his mind, starting right as he shut the door of the blonde's office, his mind finally breaking away from thoughts of The Captain's mouth, only to focus instead on the words the mouth had formed. It was like a flick of a switch. One second, Tony found himself more content than he had ever been in his life, and now he was nervously twitching in his chair, biting off all his nails.

The Captain had popped the question.

“I do trust you, you know.”

“You’re one of us now, a Commando. Like it or not, you’re stuck with us.”

Tony could almost hear his father rolling over in his grave. Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved. Of course, while Tony had thought he was staying away from the shallow parts of the pool in case he waded farther in, he was actually getting close to the deep end to dive right in.

His relationship with the gang leader was getting too deep, too involved; Tony was in over his head. But it wasn’t just him. Tony had almost called Barton by his first name today. And that’s not even getting started on his quick formed bond with Bruce. The whole team was becoming to familiar to him. 

Tony needed to ditch the group before it got any worse.

But could he? They were so far into the game, he couldn’t leave them now. Not with HYDRA so close. It was too dangerous.

Yeah. Let’s go with that reason.

It’s not like he wanted to stay.

No, of course not. These people didn’t mean anything to him. They weren’t his friends. Especially not their boss.

The Captain wasn’t anybody special.

Right?

Tony tensed as his heart fluttered otherwise. 

Uh oh.

A beep from Tony’s computer almost had the man jolting out of his chair. The engineer scrambled over to the monitors, eyeing the new information.

Thank God for JARVIS.

They finally had a location.

Without even thinking, Tony burst from his chair and into The Captain’s office. The man sprang awake instantly, aiming his hidden gun towards Tony immediately. Upon seeing Tony however, his face crumpled in embarrassment, the gun falling away quickly. “Sorry,” he forced out, still breathless with adrenaline. “What’s up?”

“We got a lock,” Tony responded. His inner battle with his status with The Commandos will have to wait for another day.

The Captain snapped into action. A quick text to his phone, which Tony assumed was to collect the rest of his mutts, and the man was on the move, looking completely opposite to how he was just moments ago. He trailed Tony into the meeting room, heading straight to the computers.

“It’s some storage facility," he explained, pointedly not thinking about how the larger man seemed to fit perfectly behind him, the scent of fresh laundry filling Tony's nose as a head leaned over his shoulder. "JARVIS found other access points, and is still working on them, but this one doesn’t fit. There shouldn’t be a computer that could hack the Joseph Grant file in some run down facility like that.”

“You think it’s HYDRA?” questioned The Captain.

Tony shrugged. “Better be safe than sorry, right?”

The Captain nodded, looking towards the door as Barnes stepped in. “Grab everyone else and get ready to move,” snapped the blonde. Barnes simply nodded and slipped out as quickly as he left. “Alright,” he said, turning back towards Tony. “Tell me about this place.”

Pierce walked towards an unmarked van, approaching his workers. “Everything ready?”

The men nodded. “We’ve got enough explosives to start a third world war,” one answered. “With the blast radius, we won’t even have to get inside. Just load up the perimeter, and boom.”

Pierce nodded, gesturing for the two to get in the car.

Hammer coming to him about Stane’s betrayal gave him the edge he was looking for. With Stane chasing a faulty name, it gave Pierce ample room to swoop in and get The Captain before anyone else got too close. Unfortunately for Hammer, he wouldn’t be keeping Stark. While Pierce was glad that Hammer had chosen his side, it didn’t change his end game. Hammer was joking himself if he thought himself as anything but a pawn. Stark was too favorable for HYDRA’s cause for Pierce to just hand him over for Hammer to play with.

But he could deal with that all in good time. Right now, it was time for Pierce to step back in the game. Word on the street was that The Captain and Stark were still enemies. While Stark had released the wrong name, Pierce deduced that the man still wouldn’t let his guard down, still letting Stark think he had the upper hand.

All Pierce needed to do was stir the pot a little more. His men would wait for The Captain to leave base, and then Pierce would blow it to smithereens. Some Commandos would be lost, of course, but all for a good cause. The Captain would blame it on Stark, bringing the two back to blows again. Then, all Pierce had to do was to sit back, let the two trade punches until they both slipped up, and he would come in for the kill.

Pierce walked up to his man in the driver seat. “Wait for an opening and then finish them.”

Steve watched his men ready up, the sounds of guns loading and boots lacing up a familiar sound. One that he hadn’t heard in too long.

This was it. They had found HYDRA. And just like the time before, Steve would lay them to waste.

This ends today.

“Load the cars,” he said to Clint, watching over the final preparations for leaving. The plan was fairly simple; it basically had Tony written all over it. But, for once, Steve found himself in complete compliance.

“We need a plan of attack.” Bucky had said.

“I have a plan. Attack.”

There was no time to sit idly by. HYDRA wouldn’t escape his grasp again.

Turning his head, he watched Tony throw a loose sweatshirt over his tank, getting his own gun ready. Steve sighed. This wasn’t going to be pretty. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, walking over to the other man. 

Tony shot him a look he had become quite familiar with. The whole ‘don’t ask stupid questions unless you want stupid answers’ kind of face.

Steve took a deep breath. “You’re not coming with us.”

“Excuse me?” Tony snapped his eyes up to meet Steve’s.

“You’re not coming with. You’re staying here.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, nice try, Cap. Now, get out of my way.”

“I’m serious, Tony.”

“Well, good, because I am too. Get out of my way.”

Steve grabbed at Tony’s shoulders as the man tried to push past his again. “You can’t come; you aren’t combat trained. Remember the last time you went out? Hammer’s men shot you.”

“Yeah, I was protecting your dumb ass,” Tony snapped, jamming a finger into Steve's chest. 

“Tony,” Steve tried to placate. “You’re just a civilian. The Commandos fight as a single unit. We can’t have you out there to- ”

“To what? Get in your way?” Tony’s eyes lit up angrily, his chestnut orbs looking almost like molten amber as he fumed at Steve.

“You know I wasn’t going to say that,” Steve responded quickly. “I’m not willing to take the risk of you getting hurt again. Tony, you’ve been shot twice in the past month; you should be resting!”

Tony pulled away from Steve’s grip. “I’m not some wilting flower, Cap. I don’t need a keeper; I can handle myself just fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, Stark men are made of iron,” Steve quoted. “That’s not my point, Tony. I just- ”

He stopped when he found Tony looking at him oddly. “What?” Steve snapped.

“Stark men are made of iron. Where’d you hear that one?”

Steve’s blood froze over. He knew exactly where he had heard it from.

Howard.

Not Tony.

“You mentioned it once,” Steve lied. “When you were all drugged up.”

Tony hummed but continued to eye him warily. “Whatever,” the brunette replied. “You can’t keep me here, Cap.”

Steve puffed his chest out. “I can, and I will.”

Tony crossed his arms. “What the hell is this? You don’t own me, Captain. If you remember correctly I didn’t accept your job offer,” he sneered.

Steve could feel the heat of some of The Commando’s gaze on him from across the room. This is not how he pictured this conversation going. “Look, even Bruce gets to go!” Tony shouted, gesturing to where the doctor was packing up his things.

“I'm only going in case of a code green, Tony,” the man answered, almost apologetic. “You never know when you might need a doctor.”

“Besides, we need you here,” Steve tried to reason. “This might just be one big bust. You’ll need to keep looking for other locations, just in case. HYDRA could be hiding somewhere else, too. You’re the only one that can find them. Everyone has their job, Tony. I need you to do yours.”

Steve could see the man ball his hands into fists, glaring daggers at Steve. Steve’s chest tightened; it had been a long time since he had gotten a look like that. But despite how he felt, Steve knew he was right. He wouldn’t risk Tony again. The man talked big game, but Steve wasn’t going to let him go out to the field unprepared. Tony had his world, and Steve had his. Steve wasn’t about to drag Tony into the hell hole of violence and blood that Steve and his men saw. Tony wasn’t meant for it.

“This isn’t over,” Tony hissed before stomping into Steve’s office and slamming the door.

Steve sighed again, turning to have all The Commandos staring at him. “Grab your gear. We leave now.” Everyone scrambled to comply, not daring to talk back.

Steve reached out and grab Bucky’s arm. Time to do even more damage. “I need you to do something for me and I need you to not hate me for it.”

Bucky looked at him questionably, but after a quick glance at Steve’s office, the man deflated. “No. Absolutely not. You cannot be serious.”

“Buck, you heard him," Steve replied. "As soon as we leave, he’s gonna follow. He’ll do something stupid, you know that. He’ll jeopardize this whole mission and get someone killed.”

“I’m not a babysitter, Steve!" his friend growled. "If you think for one second that I’m staying here and letting you go off on your own, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Buck, please,” Steve pleaded. “You’re the only one who won’t fall for his shit. As much as you hate him, Tony Stark is a valuable asset, and we can’t risk him. And we can’t let him risk our family. Please. I need you to do this for me.”  

“Steve,” Bucky almost whispered, pain evident in his voice. “I’m not risking you. I’m not sitting on the sidelines for this; not this time.”

“I know I’m asking too much. But I need to ask it anyway, because I know that somewhere in that thick head of yours, you know I’m right. I’ll be as safe as I can be with The Commandos. Letting Tony Stark go on a rampage could ruin us all.”

Bucky looked down, looking as empty as Steve had ever seen him. For the second time, a good friend tore out of his grasp coldly, and stomped away. Steve could only pray that they would forgive him.

Walking down to the front door, Steve could already hear the harsh thuds of Bucky’s fists hitting the punching bag. He sighed, finally walking outside to one of their vans, sliding in the passenger side. Clint was driving, but thankfully the man had enough sense than to ask him about what went down.

The drive to the storage facility was in dead silence. Natasha checked over her guns one last time, Clint looking back in the review mirrors to make sure they hadn’t lost one of the following vans. Upon arrival, the entire crew piled out of the vans, getting into their usual positions, ready to swarm the building on Steve’s call.

The building itself was small, almost completely unprotected in its location. Steve had no doubt that he and his men could overpower it in mere minutes.

Steve pulled a walkie-talkie up to his mouth. “Go.”

Almost immediately, the building was alight with gunfire, a few shouts barely heard over the crackle of bullets. Steve himself jumped into the fray, following right behind Thor as the hulking blonde kicked down a door.

He could already see some men dispatched on the floor from Clint, but Steve kept pushing forward. From the look of the place, Steve already knew it was too small to hide all of HYDRA, but there would be enough to hold answers that he and the team were desperately needing.

It wasn’t long before the facility was encased in silence again. The few men that were charged with guarding the building were no match for the onslaught from The Commandos.

“That was easy,” smirked Thor.

“Too easy,” Steve replied.

“Cap!”

Clint’s voice carried through the hallway, Steve and Thor immediately chasing after it. Running into the back room, he saw Natasha holding Justin Hammer in a choke hold.

“Look what I found,” she hummed, sounding completely unperturbed by the struggling man in her grip.  

“Justin Hammer,” Steve smiled. Finally. This was what they needed. Hammer would have the answers they were looking for; he could get them HYDRA. And maybe letting Tony have at the man for a few hours would out Steve back in his good graces.

Steve smiled wider as Hammer paled slightly. “Captain,” he whispered hoarsely.

“That’s right,” Steve replied. “I’ve been looking for you. Should’ve known you would be hiding like the coward you really are.”  

“Just following orders,” Hammer gasped around Natasha’s hands. “You can appreciate that.”

Steve gave a hollow laugh. “Well, now you’re gonna follow my orders and answer some questions. I know you’re not the ring leader. Where’s your boss?”

With that, Hammer just laughed. “You just missed him.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “He was here?” He turned toward Clint. “Grab some people and search the perimeter. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

“No,” Hammer said, catching their attention. “He wasn’t here. He was going to see you, last I talked to him.”

“See me?”

“Yeah, thought he’d drop by for a quick visit.”

Steve froze.

“What?”

Clint snorted. “Like you’d even know where to look.”

Hammer laughed again, his eyes wild. “Oh, but we did look. And we found. It’s a shame you aren’t there. Oh well. I guess whoever you left at home will just have to take a message."

Oh my God.

Steve was out of the room in an instant, sprinting towards the car as he heard Hammer cackle behind him. Steve jumped into the driver seat, seeing that Thor and Clint had sidled in with him.

His blood was pounding as he sped down the streets, swerving through cars, willing himself to go faster. Hammer was lying, right? No one had ever been able to find where the base was.

Except Tony.

If Tony could find it, how long before someone else could have done the same thing? Steve’s heart jumped in his throat as he pushed the gas petal harder. He could hear Clint curse into his phone, no doubt calling Bucky.

Why wasn’t he answering?

Soon, Steve found himself pulling up to base. Almost falling out of the car, Steve breathed deep when he found the building just as they left it.

“Hammer’s a little shit,” snarled Clint. “He’s just trying to get in our heads.”

Steve nodded, finally feeling his heartbeat slow down. He walked towards the front door, pulling out his phone to call Nat, when-

BOOM!

Steve felt heat and light encompass him quickly, sending him flying back into the air. He felt his body tumble around the asphalt, until his head collided with the solid ground, knocking him out. He must have only been out momentarily, because soon Steve was waking with a gasp, fire and smoke dancing around him.

Steve’s vision dragged in and out of focus, black dots dancing in front of his eyes. He could feel himself take shuddering breaths, but couldn’t hear them over the ringing in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears started to form from the plumes of smoke around him.

Steve opened his eyes long enough to see the red that dripped down onto the charred ground below him. Taking a shaking and already cut up hand, Steve dragged it across his head only for it to come back more bloody. Trying to move his aching body was futile as well; the jarring movement shot pain coursing through his body, almost causing him to lose consciousness again. Steve looked around, but saw nothing but endless walls of fire and smoke, threatening to close in around him.

This is all my fault.

He tore his eyes back to the remnants of his base.

“BUCKY!” he tried to shout, smoke inhalation causing him to break off into a coughing fit. Steve tried to stumble towards the flames when arms pulled him back again.

He could vaguely hear Clint yell at him, but Steve continued to pull forward. Bucky was in there. Tony was in there. He needed to get them out.

“-you nuts? You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Steve tried to pull away when another blast knocked the men back off their feet. Steve was drifting again, the pain in his head too much. He couldn’t see anything but fire. There was no base, there was only fire. Someone was screaming again, and Steve wanted nothing more than to tell them to stop, that they needed to help. It wasn’t long until he found it was him, crying hoarsely into Clint’s shoulder as he willed himself to stand back up.

There was nothing but sirens of the incoming firetrucks, the crackling off flames, the crumbling of once solid walls.

What have I done?

“Bucky,” Steve pleaded.

Tony.

Chapter Text

1 hour earlier

“Everyone has their job, Tony. I need you to do yours.”

Tony slammed the door to The Captain’s office harshly, some of the sketches flying off the wall from the force of it. Tony glared at the papers drifting through the air as his temper continued to rise. In another grunt of frustration, Tony ran over to the wall of pictures and let loose, arms moving in a whirlwind until every sketch, photo, and memory were torn off the wall and strewn onto the floor at his feet.

“I do trust you, you know.”

“You’re one of us now, a Commando. Like it or not, you’re stuck with us.”

Tony snorted.

What a load of bullshit.

He did not come all this way just to be pushed aside like some damsel in distress. He’s Tony Goddamned Stark. And the only person who can control Tony Stark was Tony Stark himself.

He walked over to The Captain’s desk, tearing out drawer after drawer until Tony found an extra side arm. He could hear yelling from the other side of the office door, but Tony paid it no mind. With any luck, someone out there was giving The Captain all the shit he deserves right now.

Tony didn’t care what The Captain said. There was no way he was going to sit idly by while there took out HYDRA. He could handle himself, no problem. The shit storm that happened at his own warehouse should have proved that. He'd come in - rather heroically, he thought to himself - and held his own with The Commandos just fine, thank you very much. He even managed to save The Captain's distracted ass. Maybe he should have been the one left behind. 

No, Tony Stark was definitely not a cheerleader on the sidelines. Not this time. HYDRA had gone after his people as well; Tony had every right to see them burn alongside The Commandos.

And that he would. Screw this. Tony would just have to wait until The Captain and his men left, and Tony would leave right behind them. The Captain would forgive him. Probably.

Tony walked over to the office door, pressing his ear against the old wood. When he didn’t hear anything, Tony opened the door slowly, the creaking echoing in the silent room.

The room was cleared out; The Captain and his men had already left. They really don't waste any time, that's for sure. Of course, being able to stay three steps ahead of any other rival gang, as well as the entire NYPD, didn't exactly come from luck. Of course, with some of the stupid ass decisions their man-in-charge was delegating, maybe there was more luck involved than he thought. 

Tony chuckled to himself as he slipped over to his computer, tapping away to bring up the location. JARVIS brought it up without a single command, and as he reached below the desk, Tony pulled out his padded suitcase that he originally brought the computer in, and slipped the tech and the acquired location inside. He grabbed the suitcase and dragged it back into the office, rummaging through the desk until he found some spare clips from his new, borrowed, sidearm, throwing them in as well.

He looked down when he heard paper crinkle under his feet. There, under his heel, was a crumpled photo of Barton, laughing as he leaned into Coulson.

Tony sighed, picking the photo up, tying to unfurl the edges. Even while holding the photograph in his hand, Tony still had some doubts that the scene printed on it could be real. Not real in the sense that he still hadn't manage to figure out exactly how Barton and Coulson worked - they were both reserved, sure, but Tony had a file on Barton large enough to know the kind of shenanigans he got himself into, while Coulson seemed to be the type of guy that organized his staples - but the reality of their expressions. They looked so happy, so carefree, like the photo was snapped at a suburban barbecue. How they were able to carve out a piece of happiness and carry it through the lives they led was... intangible for him. 

Looking around, Tony took in the state of the rest of the office. Scraps of paper, their memories, their happiness, was strewn haphazardly throughout the floor. 

Goddamn sentiment.

Tony rubbed at his forehead, before leaning down to pick up the rest of the photos. For as angry as he was, the last thing he needed was another kicked puppy look from The Captain. Especially if the man would already be furious when Tony showed up for the fight with HYDRA.

Gathering all the pictures together, Tony froze when he heard a dull rhythmic thumping. He dropped the sketches, not stopping to see where they fell, and slipped back into the meeting room. Tony crept down the stairs, movements silent as the thumping got louder.

He stepped down onto the main floor, heading straight for the noise and pulling his gun out as he walked. Tony expected to find an old pipe or rusting piece of machinery reacting to the harsh cold of the New York winter, but he wasn’t about to let his guard down. Not with the threat of HYDRA.

What Tony wasn’t expecting was a potentially murderous James Barnes whacking the shit out of a punching bag.

“Barnes?” Tony questioned, looking around the rest of the room for the rest of The Captain’s men as he slipped his gun back in his pants. He caught Barnes falter slightly in his beating when Tony called his name, but when straight back to attacking the sandbag.

Frowning, Tony stepped closer to the man. “What the hell are you doing here?” Barnes still didn’t answer, his punches seemingly getting harder at Tony’s inquiry. Tony walked around and grabbed the back of the sandbag to cease its swinging, staring at the other brunette.  “Shouldn’t you be, oh. I don’t know, on a murder spree right now?” Tony pushed more. That finally broke a grunt from Barnes, the man missing the bag and aiming straight for Tony.

Tony ducked on autopilot, narrowly missing the man’s fist. He scrambled away quickly, arms going up defensively, but Tony could see that despite the outburst, Barnes didn’t really want to fight him. Tony looked around the room once more. Clearly, he and Barnes were the only ones left in the building, but if The Commandos were gone, why the hell was Barnes even here?

Tony sighed in realization. “You’re on babysitting duty, aren’t you?”

The way Barnes locked his jaw was answer enough for Tony. Goddammit. Of course The Captain would know that he wouldn't sit quietly. I trust you, he had said. Trust me, my ass, Tony thought, venomously. 

Barnes looked at Tony, eyes dropping to where he was still gripping the gun. “You going after them?”

“You gonna stop me?” Tony retorted.

Barnes sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face and walked over to one of the benches as he began to unwrap the tape from his hands.

“Come on, Barnes,” continued Tony. “You can’t think this was a good idea.”

“Doesn’t matter what I think.”

Tony scoffed. “Oh, really. You’re gonna pull the ‘I’m just a grunt soldier’ card now? Everyone knows now much pull you have here. I’m surprised The Captain is able to tie his shoes without asking you what kind of knots he should go with.”

“Well, I obviously don’t have too much say if I’m stuck here with you,” Barnes snapped.

“So, you agree with me,” said Tony. “You don’t think you should be here. You don’t think I should be here.” 

Barnes finished unwrapping his hands and sighed again, looking up at the lofty ceiling. “Come on, Barnes. Your best friend could be could there getting killed right now, and- ”

“Don’t,” Barnes hissed.

Tony put his arms up apologetically. “Alright, that was shitty. But, I know you’re with me on this one, Barnes. I can help; we can help. This is HYDRA we’re talking about here. I know I don’t know what happened the first time, but something tells me it wasn’t pretty. I don’t think we can risk underestimating them again. Please.”

Barnes sat down on the bench, laying his head in his hands. It was a long time before he spoke again. “No.”

Tony gaped at the other man. “What?” he asked in disbelief. 

Barnes stood up again, staring Tony down. “Cap said to stay here, so we’re staying here.”

“What the hell, Barnes?” Tony snarled. “You obviously don’t agree with the man!”

“It’s not about whether I agree with- ”

“Oh, so you’re just a kiss ass then, are you?”

“Stark, you gotta understand- ”

“They could be in danger!”

“Cap will keep them safe, you know- ”

“Well who’s gonna keep him safe?!”

Despite Barnes’s calm demeanor, Tony broke off with a shout, his face almost bright red from exertion. He knew Barnes had it out for him, but this was just insane. They were on the same side here; why the hell were they still fighting?

“When we were little,” Barnes started, ignoring Tony's outburst. “The Captain was… different, in a way. He wasn’t always like how he is now, you know; he used to be smaller. We didn’t have too much either, growing up. I remember we used to share shoes to save money. Hell, the poor kid had to stick newspapers in them so they could stay on.” Barnes chuckled, showing the rare and private smile that was usually preserved for those in the inner circle of The Commandos. “But he was always stubborn; he wouldn’t back down from a brick wall. He always said that ‘someone’s gotta look out for the little guys’. The bastard got into more fights than I did.

"When we got out of school, we were lucky enough to afford an apartment. It wasn’t much, definitely on the shadier side of Brooklyn, but it was home. It wasn’t long before I started coming home to find Cap going at it with another tenant. I tried to step in, more than once, but he stopped me. Every damn time. Said he knew what he was doing. ‘I can handle it, Buck. Just trust me,’ he said. God only knows why I listened to him; it killed me every time he’d come back in like he’d walked through hell himself. It wasn’t until a few months later when the guy chased Cap into the street and started wailing on him right out in the open. But then the cops showed up, arrested the man. Turns out, the guy was a felon on house arrest. As soon as he stepped outside, he broke through the radius on his ankle bracelet and that got him sent to jail. I remember asking him why he did it, how he knew. Captain said he wasn’t good to his family. The guy beat his wife. Kids too. The cops didn’t know that when they put him on house arrest. But Cap found out. He let the guy beat the shit out of him for months to keep him away from his family, egging him on until he got angry enough to step outside and break his parole. I never questioned him again. Because it doesn’t matter if I agree with him, or I think his plan is stupid. It doesn’t matter. Because I trust him. I trust that he knows what the hell he’s doing, and that he’ll get the job done. He hasn’t let any of us down yet; I know he never will. So, no. We’re not going. Because no matter how mad he makes me, or how I feel about his stupid ass decisions, I’m gonna stand by that man to the end of the line. Even you should be able to respect that.”

Tony didn’t know what he was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t that. A surge of jealousy coursed through him. The bond that Barnes had with The Captain was almost one you hear in in story books. Tony would never have that; has never had that. He’d like to think he had that with Rhodey at least, but he's been known for fabricating his reality for something he’d always wanted. “Sure, I can respect it. But that doesn’t mean I understand it,” Tony replied, heading back for the stairs.

He heard Barnes huff. “You’re one crazy son of a bitch, Stark.”

“Why, because I’m not like you?” Tony snapped, spinning back around. “I’m not a soldier, Barnes. I don’t exactly do the whole chain of command thing. Hell, the entire concept of the words ‘team player’ are completely foreign to me. But I’m not going to sit around here and twiddle my thumbs. Screw that,” he hissed, trying to stomp away again.

“You won’t make a very good Commando, then.”

Tony stopped, sighing. “Well, I’m sure your boss will retract his offer when I show up. This works out better if you let me go alone, actually. Cap will be pissed, HYDRA will be dead, and then I’ll be gone. You’ll have to find someone else to hate.”

“I don’t hate you, Stark,” Barnes answered, almost quietly. “I just hate what you stand for. Regardless of who you see us as now, The Captain, as well as the rest of us, have had a pretty shitty life. We’ve all had to sacrifice a lot to get where we are today. But, I know people like you. You’re all flash and show, a bright meteor shining across the sky. What people forget about meteors, is that no matter how brilliant they are, they leave nothing but a wake of destruction. And Cap? He’s latched onto you for the ride. You come in with your thousand watt smile and new ideas and suddenly Cap is no better than a kid in a candy shop. See, I know people like you; I know you. Guys like you can bitch to Cap all day long about how ‘we’re on the same side’, but I know better. I mean, you just said it yourself. You’re not on the same side; you’re on your side. There’s only one guy you gotta look out for, and that's yourself. You throw an arm around The Captain, bring him some new toys, even toss the word ‘friend’ in every now and then. You wait until you have The Captain wrapped around your little finger. How long until you start to use him? Start asking for favors in return? Money, people, information. You’ll ask for it all, eventually. And he’ll give it to you. Because you’re friends, right? And then? And then you’ll ditch. Where do you think that’ll leave him?”

Tony looked away, not able to meet the piercing gaze. Tony had thought he and The Captain had come a long way. Sure, what Barnes was saying may have been the original plan, but that wasn’t his end game now, right? Tony bit his lip. Who was he kidding. The fact that he wasn’t convincing Barnes was enough to show Tony that he was no better than the original piece of shit he started out as. And with The Captain making empty promises of trust, maybe they were both just trying to fool themselves. Like they both didn't know what was going to happen in the end, once HYDRA was out of the picture. “It seems like you speak from experience,” Tony managed to grit out.

Barnes huffed. “Yeah; guy was just like you. He came in with his suits and fancy words, and well, the rest is history.”

Tony nodded. “I’m still gonna go.”

Barnes actually smiled. “I know.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “So, how we gonna do this?”

“Well, I thought I’d give you a head start. Handicap, you know?” Barnes shrugged.

“A true gentlemen,” Tony huffed, running back to the stairs. “When you catch up with me, try and avoid hitting the face, yeah? It’s my best feature.”

“No promises!” Tony heard Barnes yell at him, but he was already on the move. He raced back up to the office, slamming the suitcase shut and grabbed his jacket. Regardless of the head start, Tony knew that it would be almost impossible to outrun Barnes. It didn't matter. He needed to try; he needed to help. Seeing that he had everything, Tony spun around back towards the door, when-

BOOM!

The last thing he remembered was slamming his head onto the desk.

When Tony regained consciousness, he groaned at the heady throbbing in the back of his skull, eyes blinking through foggy vision. Concussion. The heat that came with the fog, however, had him changing his mind. It was smoke. Tony jolted upright, seeing thick clouds of it billow into the room. Without thinking twice, Tony stumbled to his feet, ripping off his jacket. Wrapping it around his hand, Tony fumbled for the handle, throwing the door open.

Another blast of heat almost knocked him off his feet again, bright flames already trying to lick their way into the new found space. Not waiting for an invitation, Tony stepped into what was once the meeting room, upholstered chairs already aflame and turning to ash around him. He tried to shield himself with his suitcase and jacket as the ceiling crumbled down to the ground, fire and smoke danced within the once solid building.

Tony raced down the iron steps, jacket pressed firmly against his mouth as he tried to breathe through the smoke filled air. He could hear the support beams creak under the stress from the explosion, Adonis getting ready to finally give out from under the weight. Tony cursed; there wasn’t a lot of time before the whole building was coming down.

Searing flames licked along his sides as Tony traversed farther down the stairs. Large chunks of debris sat collapsed in front of the main door, but Tony wasn’t heading there anyway. Tony just prayed to every god that he knew of that the sewage passageway hadn’t caved in from the blast. 

Tony started to run down the second set of stairs when he stopped, whipping back around to face the wall of flames. It was hard to hear anything over the roaring of the fire and his own heart thudding in his chest, but Tony knew there was something else.

A scream.

Barnes.

Shit, Tony cursed to himself. Barnes was still in there. Tony looked down the stairs, the underground passageway looking cool and extremely inviting, then back at the burning remains of The Commandos base.

Keep going.

Go back.

You’ll die.

Barnes will die.

You’re not a hero.

No, I’m a Commando.

“Fuck,” Tony hissed, dropping the suitcase and charging straight into the raging fire. “Barnes?! Barnes, where are you?!”

A loud groaning sounded above him, and Tony only had a few seconds before more ceiling crashed down to where he had just been standing. He gasped in pain as fresh embers splattered against exposed skin, his head still pounding, lungs constricting for a fresh breath.   

But, Tony got up and pushed on. “BARNES! JAMES BARNES!” he shouted, breaking off into hacking coughs. Tony tried to follow the clearest path to where he Barnes was last, crying out in relief when he finally saw a familiar body through the haze.

Tony rushed over to him, faltering slightly when he saw part of his body covered by a huge pile of fallen ceiling. That wasn’t good. Definitely not good.

Tony crouched down next to him, pressing fingers into the man’s neck to be met with a faint pulse. How the hell am I gonna get him out of here? Tony leaned over and shook his shoulder. “Barnes, you with me?”

Barnes blinked up at him sluggishly, his eyes barely focused enough to lock onto Tony’s. “Steve?”

Tony furrowed his brows. “Wha-Steve? No, you idiot, it’s Tony.”

Barnes didn’t seem to hear him. The other brunette’s eyes fluttered shut again with another moaned ‘Steve’, his face still crinkled in pain. Tony cursed, looking back to the huge pile of rubble that lay on Barnes. The only way for him to get Barnes out of there was to remove the debris. Which, for Tony, was asking him to lift a train car. Tony’s eyes flashed around the room, looking for anything to use as a fulcrum. They were running out of time. It wouldn’t be long before both he and Barnes were crushed by the collapsing building.

He could see Barnes’s head loll to the side, Tony immediately grabbing at his shirt and shaking him. “Don’t you dare fall asleep, Barnes! Your lazy ass has to help me.”

When Barnes didn’t respond, Tony yanked on him harder. Surprisingly, the extra force pulled Barnes from the rubble and on top of Tony.

What the hell?

Tony groaned, pushing Barnes away. Maybe Barnes wasn’t stuck after all. After all, even with the extra adrenaline, there was no way that Tony could have been able to pull the injured man from-

Oh god.

Tony gagged violently, quickly losing whatever had sat in his stomach. Upon seeing the state of his clothes, Tony’s stomach threatened a second round.

Blood.

Turns out there was a reason that Barnes gave way so easily.

Because not all of him made it back out.

Tony stared at the bloody stump that was once Barnes’ arm.

Looking back toward the smoking pile of rubble, Tony could see the faint glint of sharp and bloodied metal shine in the flames. A fan rotor. The ceiling had been covered in huge industrial fans to keep the warehouse cool. Part of the ceiling caves in, and boom: the falling blades are one patent away from being called a human cleaver.

What the fuck do I do?!

Tony had patched himself up numerous times but this was an entire fucking limb. Tony wasn’t a doctor but even he could tell that blood loss would start to be an issue soon, if it wasn't already.

Where’s the arm? Can they sew it back on? Or is that just for fingers-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! It won’t matter if the doctors can fix Barnes if you’re both dead!

Tony’s thoughts zoomed through him, his brain working overdrive as shock set in. Screw the arm; Tony needed to get the out of there now. Leaning down and grabbing at Barnes’s only arm, Tony pulled him up into a fireman’s carry. “Come on now, Barnes. You need to stay alive for me to blackmail you about this later.”

Tony stumbled back the way had come, much more slowly as the added weight of Barnes and oxygen deprivation caught up with him.  When Tony finally managed to find the stairs again, he barely had time to reach for the suitcase when a second blast rippled through the building. Tony immediately brought Barnes under him, using his body as a shield as a few more chunks of scrap came falling down. Groaning, Tony looked up only to gasp. Another huge groan echoed through the building, Tony watching in horror as the rest of the ceiling started to collapse, the stress too much from the second blast.

Tony reached forward, grabbing on to Barnes and the suitcase, throwing the three of them down the steps. Collapsing onto the hard ground, Tony moaned in agony, back arching as his vision whited out. At the top of the stairs, the ceiling had completely caved in. Large slabs of the destroyed building now blocked the entrance. While it solved the problem of burning to death, it posed the new threat of trapping them down there if the other end had already collapsed as well.

Tony crawled over to Barnes, happy enough to find a faint pulse. He took a few deep breaths before standing back up. We’re not home free yet. He reached back down for Barnes, swallowing past the nausea that tried to make another appearance, and began to trek in the direction of their only salvation.

Progress, to say the least, was almost nonexistent. Tony could only manage a few steps with Barnes before he’d have to lean against the wall, pain radiating all over his body. Tony had thought the sewage path was long before, but he knew he’d been across an entire country faster than the time it took from them to traverse the passage.

Seeing the literal light at the end of the tunnel would have had Tony laughing if it not for his desert dry throat. He dragged Barnes out of the sewer, laying his as gently as he could against it. Looking back, he could see the base, what was left of it really, fully engulfed now by the orange of the fire and the red and blue of sirens, both flashing brightly in the night sky.

None of that mattered now. Tony needed to find help.

Leaving Barnes at the sewer, Tony staggered along the river walk, thanking every deity when he ran into a jogger.

“Holy shit, man. You alright?”

“Phone,” Tony managed to grate out.

The man jumped, desperately searching for the device. “Of course. I’ll call the police, and- ”

“No” Tony cut him off. “No police.”

The man gaped at Tony. “Dude, let me help you, I just- ”

“Give me the phone.”

“-need to call the police. They can get you-“

“Give me the phone.”

“-to safety. I just want to make sure-”

The man was cut off by Tony swinging the suitcase around, clipping the man on the side of the head. He crumpled to the ground, Tony easily snatching the phone from him. Through his blurry vision, Tony managed to type in a number he was loathe to call again.

"Sanctum Sanctorum, how may I direct your call?" a cheery voice answered. 

“This is Tony Stark. I’m calling in a Hail Mary. Get me Strange."

"I'm sorry, we're getting ready to close to the public, as museum visiting hours end at 8 P.M. I know of some local options that stay open 24/7."

Tony clenched his jaw. "No, I can't go to a local hospital, hence why I'm calling you."

"Oh, of course we do acquisitions. Would you like to tell me a little about the piece and I can get a meeting scheduled for you with one of our many experts?"

"Amputation," Tony replied hoarsely. "Emergency surgery required, as far off the books as you can get me. I need Strange; I need a miracle." 

"Sounds very intriguing," the voice quipped, not missing a beat. "I'll make sure this gets put at the top of our list. When do you have some free time to make it to the museum for a meeting?" 

"Negative, I have no transport. I need a pick up," Tony answered, eyes darting around his surroundings to make sure no one came upon him and the downed jogger. 

A brief silence. "Oh, I see. Because of the size of the piece, a house call will be no problem. Do you have an address I can write down?"

"We’re on the right side of the East River. By the docks. Hurry. Please.”

"Don't worry, I'll get this set up for you. I'm sure you'll be hearing from our expert very soon." 

"I better," Tony snapped. 

A laugh rang out from the other side of the phone. "Of course, Sir. You have a wonderful evening as well. Thank you for calling the Sanctum Sanctorum!" 

"And thank you, for making everything as difficult as possible," Tony snarked back, hanging up the phone before he could get another response. 

Tony sighed, tossing the phone back to its unconscious owner. With any luck, the man wouldn’t remember their interaction at all. Even if he did, Tony knew that he and Barnes would be long gone by the time that he came too. For as much of a pain it was to deal with Strange's people, Tony knew that he had heard nothing but the best about them. After all, they ran a monopoly in a market that they created themselves. New York was teeming with criminals, and criminals were teeming with chaos. And even criminals need doctors.

He raced back over to Barnes, leaning down immediately to wake the other man up.

“Barnes, wake up,” Tony barked, slapping at his face. “Come on, James, work with me here.”

Barnes gave a pitiful moan. “-eve?”

“Goddammit, Barnes, Steve isn’t here!”

“Where-” Bucky tailed off, eyes slowly tracking around them. It was a miracle that he was even awake right now, alive even. The man probably didn’t even register that it was Tony was talking with him. “Need Steve,” the man whispered, eyes drifting shut again.

“No, no, no,” Tony started, shaking at Barnes’s shoulders. “What you need is to stay awake, okay? Help is coming I promise, just stay with me a little longer.”

Tony didn’t hear the man respond, but saw blue eyes crack open again. He could do this. Tony could keep them safe. He scanned the road, praying that help would be there soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer Barnes had before he went delirious again or just plain bled out. Feeling his heartbeat slow down, Tony’s brain caught up with him, finally begging the million dollar question.

Who the fuck is Steve?

Chapter Text

Bright flames seared into his memory, his sharp eyes taking in every blaze. But he didn’t look away; Clint refused to look away.

Steve was still pushed into his shoulder, simultaneously trying to pull away and burrow closer into the familiar body. Clint could barely hear, as both hearing aids had flown out from the brunt of the explosion. Even without them, however, he still managed to hear Steve’s screams.

Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Tony. Bucky. Bucky. Tony.

This can’t be happening.

Clint felt Steve try and head for the flames again, but Clint pulled him back down. It was sickening how easily he managed to overpower the man, Steve too lost in his grief and agony to put up a huge fight. He knew that he shouldn't just be sitting there - his mind was screaming at him, "Get up! Do something!" , but it was if his body had refused the order. A block of ice in a sea of flames, unaccepting of the fate that lay before him. The flames were taunting him, almost laughing as they danced through the open crevices that he used to call his home. 

It was when the fire started to show colors of red and blue that Clint managed to panic even more. Head snapping to the left, he could see trucks with siren lights approach the group. Clint jumped up, trying to pull Steve with him. “Steve! Come on, Steve, we gotta go! Get up, get up!” It was instinctive, his body finally accepting the command to attempt something as familiar as running from the cops. Anything to do, anything, so he wouldn't have to look back as his world literally burned around him. 

But Steve was wailing again. “No, no, please! I gotta get in there, I gotta- Bucky!”

“Steve, you can’t go in there! Come on, the cops are coming!” Clint yanked and yanked at Steve, but the man kept managing to pull back away. "Focus on the job," Steve's voice filtered in his head. "With the job we have, we're going to have to make hard decisions, and it's not always going to fall in our favor. It's the price we pay, a guess. The easiest way to survive is to compartmentalize and focus on the job."  He never thought he'd ever be in a position that he'd have to use Steve's own words against him - then again, he'd never seen Steve like this, and then again, he'd never seen anything like this. He knew he couldn't head into the flames - as much as he wanted to yell fuck it and do it anyway. What good would that do? It would only just end up killing him. Although, given the current predicament, he might as well be dead anyway. It had taken him so long to find his family; there was no life worth living without them. 

No, all he could focus on the job. And right now, his job was protecting the family that he could. He was too late for Bucky - God, Bucky, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry - but he could still save Steve. His boss was out of his mind, blinded by grief and pain. If Steve sat around here, it wouldn't be hard for the cops to piece things together. 

He felt Steve trying to pull out of his grip again. “Thor!” Clint shouted, finally having enough.

Thankfully, the hulking blonde appeared, looking just as pale as they did against the fire. “Take him,” Clint snapped, Thor quickly hastening to respond. “I need you to get him out of here,” Clint continued, watching as Steve flailed uselessly in Thor’s arms.

“Where?”

“I don’t know, I don’t care!” Clint responded, getting hysterical. “He can’t be here. The cops are coming and they’re going to ask questions. He’s gonna do something stupid like get himself killed, or worse, get himself arrested.”

Thor nodded gravely, eyes shooting back to the incoming sirens. “I shall take him,” he said, already pulling away the squirming Captain. “I will call as soon as we’re safe.”

And with that, Thor took off, running down the alleyway with a still shouting Steve in his arms.

This can’t be happening.

Clint stumbled over the same way, just making it out of sight of the incoming police cars for him to collapse to the ground, entire body trembling.

Losing Stark was already a hit that The Commandos couldn’t afford. Clint was actually starting to like the guy. But Bucky?

Jesus, Bucky.

Clint put his head in his hands as he lost control of his breathing again.

This can’t be happening.

“Barton!”

The sharp bang jolted Clint out of his restless slumber, the man trying to curl himself farther into a ball.

“I know you’re up there!” Another bang.

Clint tried to shift around, but choosing the vent system as a hiding place left little room to get comfortable. Clint took his hearing aids out, trying to ignore the noise. Which, of course, was a horrible mistake as he wasn’t prepared for a strong hand to grab at his ankle through where the grate used to lay, and pull him out of the vent, sending him crashing to the ground.

He felt the same hands jam the hearing aids back in his ears, but Clint kept on staring at the ground.

“- told you about taking these out. One day, you’re going to miss a call because you were too busy sulking.”

Clint finally peered up to be met with the furious face of Bucky Barnes yielding none other than a kitchen broom. If Clint wasn’t so upset, he would have found the sight hilarious.

“Hey, Bucky,” he said weakly.

“Don’t you, ‘Hey, Bucky’ me! Do you know what time it is?” Not waiting for an answer, Bucky tugged him up by his shirt collar and through the base to Steve’s office.

“Buck, what the hell?!" he tried to protest, hoping Steve would jump in to his defense. He did not, the asshole. 

Bucky ignored him, pushing Clint into a chair, ripping off his shirt. Clint wide eyed, looked over to Steve with another pleading look, who was quietly doing paperwork when Bucky stormed in. Steve only snorted at the two of them before looking at Bucky. Asshole. "Vents?”

Bucky hummed, digging through the drawers before pulling out a clean shirt. “Put this on,” he snapped, throwing it at Clint. Clint obliged, still shooting the two confused looks.

“God, you reek, Clint. When was the last time you showered?”

Clint bit his lip and focused only on putting the shirt on. Honestly, he couldn’t remember. He couldn't seem to remember anything besides the fight. 

“This is just plain sad,” Bucky said, shaking his head.

“Wanna tell me what this is about?” Clint finally asked.

“What day is it?” asked Bucky.

“Friday.”

“Okay, what time is it?”

“Seven,” Clint answered, voice getting smaller. He knew were this was going.

“Glad we’re on the same page. Why are you here?”

Clint pouted. “He doesn’t wanna see me, Buck!”

Bucky shot him an unimpressed look. “Just like you don’t wanna see him, right?” When Clint didn’t respond, he continued. “Come on, Clint. This isn’t healthy! We haven’t seen you for days! You haven’t showered, you haven’t eaten. God only knows when the last time you've slept. Steve is losing his goddamned mind over here!”

Clint refused to look over at Steve, but could feel the weight of the heavy stare he was getting. Nothing pissed Steve off more than when his cubs weren’t taking care of themselves. “I’m fine, guys.”

“No, you’re not,” snapped Bucky. “Don’t even,” he added as Clint tried to chime back in. “I don’t want to hear whatever reason you think you and Coulson shouldn’t be together, because you’re just going to be wasting your time. He’s an idiot, you’re an idiot. You’re both idiots! You both said stuff you didn’t mean, and now you’re both sulking in the corner and licking your wounds. Don’t be a bitch, Barton. Fix it.”

“He’s so much better without me! He shouldn’t be wasting his time, honestly. He can find someone he really wants, you know? Get married, have a kid or two, get a white picket fence. The whole shebang!” Clint tried to argue. Being met with glares from both Steve and Bucky was not something he expected.

“Alright, I’m calling an audible.” Bucky went over, pulling Clint up from the chair. “Scale from one to ten?” he shot back at Steve.

Steve hummed. “Nothing higher than a two and a half, but you can probably play the pity card.”

“Good call,” Bucky nodded, pushing Clint towards the door. “Let’s go, loverboy.”

Clint wasn’t sure how they made it to Phil’s apartment; the man was too locked inside his own head about what he could possibly say to him to fix what he’d broken. All that got him was a fat load of nothing and Bucky throwing rocks at Phil’s window. What was worse, was that when Phil heard them, he walked all the way down to meet them in the street instead of staying inside. Seeing Phil after a few weeks was enough for Clint to want nothing more than to hide behind Bucky. He was so screwed.

“Barnes.” Phil stood with his arms crossed; trying to give the brunette a blank look with a signature raised eyebrow, but Clint could see a small smile threatening to form on his lips.

Bucky, completely unaffected by the awkwardness, shot Phil a blinding smile. “Officer,” he said with a salute.

“Is there a reason you’re standing outside my building throwing rocks at my window?”

“Well, I was gonna bring my boom box, but party pooper over here wouldn’t let me.”

“That’s not a very good answer, Barnes.”

“Geez, stop it with the cop looks, would you? I’m gonna start confessing something soon. We’re here because it’s date night. Friday night is always date night, where the two of you schmucks forget where you work, sit down and have a home cooked meal, and watch some cheesy rom-com that I know Barton here cries during even though he won’t admit it. I know you two fall asleep on the couch, until Barton wakes up early Saturday morning to run to your favorite bakery to get you doughnuts and coffee. Because even though you don’t wanna be a cliché cop, you’re still a slut for jelly filled pastries. I know you two eat your breakfast while you read a fucking newspaper, and grumpy over here tries to clean his guns like it’s a completely normal thing to do on a Saturday morning. And I know you yell at him every week, saying ‘It’s uncivilized, Clint. The kitchen table is only for eating.’ And then you two bicker, like you always do. Which ends up with you guys doing things I really do not have the stomach to get into. And I know you two spend the rest of the weekend doing gross couple things that really only belong inside a Hallmark card,” Bucky finished, running out of breath.

"You wanna know why I know? Because this asshole,” he continued, jabbing at Clint, “comes strolling in every Monday morning walking on Cloud Nine, with that stupid dopey grin on his face. And me, poor, poor me, has to listen to him go on and on about his amazing weekend. Every goddamn week. You get used to a certain lifestyle, after a while. So, you can imagine my surprise that for the past two Monday mornings, I have had to brood over my morning coffee in silence, and not with some annoying bird in my ear,” Bucky finally finished, almost red in the face.

Clint watched as Phil clearly mulled over Bucky’s monologue. “And you’re here because?”

“The status quo is messed up, Sir. I don’t like it, you probably don’t like it. Hell, Clint over here is miserable. I mean, look at him. He looks like one of those puppies out of those animal shelter videos. You know, with the sad song? It makes me sick. So now, here I am, trying to get your heads out of your asses instead of watching the game like I should.”

Phil’s eyes darted between the two men, before locking back with Bucky. “Will you be joining us tonight too?”

Bucky barked out a laugh. “I knew you had the hots for me, Sir,” he jested, ignoring Phil’s unimpressed gaze. “But, no, I’ll have to pass. Just a drop off tonight,” he continued, gesturing to Clint. “Found this suspicious looking package hiding in the vents that needs to be checked over by an upstanding officer such as yourself. Especially the head region,” Bucky snapped, looking back at Clint, delivering a sharp slap to the back of his head. “Dumbass.” 

This time, Phil actually did smile, finally looking at Clint, twinkling eyes tracking up and down his disheveled appearance with a soft hum. “I guess I can look him over for you.”

“That’s the spirit,” Bucky responded, clapping a hand on Phil’s shoulder, before leaning in close. “Now, when I say examine, I mean, like, thoroughly. Like, you really might have to get down deep in there, to- ”

“Bucky!” Clint hissed.

Bucky laughed again, patting Clint’s cheek before finally moving away. “Alright, alright. I’m out of here. You two lovebirds have fun.”

“Move your car!” Phil shouted at Bucky. “You can’t park here!”

“Oh, that?” Bucky answered, turning back to them with a smile. “That’s not mine.” With that, Bucky winked at the two, sauntering down the empty street. “Make sure you have him back by Monday morning, Coulson. You know how The Captain feels about tardiness!”

Phil looked back to a slightly embarrassed Clint. “Did he just leave a stolen car in front of my apartment?”

Clint blushed. “Oops?” The blush deepened at Phil’s snort. “Listen, Phil, I- ”

Phil cut him off with a chaste kiss. “Come on. I made tacos.”

Clint smiled gratefully, easily slipping his hand into Phil’s as they entered the building. He really was the luckiest man alive.

Clint finally let a sob loose, Bucky’s laughter still ringing in his ears.

This was all his fault.

He should have made Steve bring Bucky with. He shouldn’t have let him leave Bucky there. He should’ve convinced Steve. Clint should’ve stayed. He should have known, he should have known, he should have-

A large chunk of roof came tumbling to the ground just feet from where Clint was sitting. Clint jumped, trying to retract further into the alley where he sat, looking up at his former home.

The flames were definitely smaller, what little hearing he had able to pick up on the shouts of the firemen fighting what was left of the inferno.

How long have I been sitting here?

He should find Steve, he should find Nat, find anybody. But Clint couldn’t pull himself away. He sat, staring at the flames, wishing that it was him that was in there instead of his friend.

Finally, under shaky legs, Clint managed to stand. He kept to whatever shadows he could find, trying to get as close to the police as possible. Clint swore, wishing he still had his aids in, knowing that’ll he’ll have to resort to lip reading to get any potential information from the boys in blue.

Clint peeked around the corner, glancing through his options. The firemen were all still attached to the large hoses, spraying every inch of the building that they could. He could see the cops already trying to set up a perimeter, most likely getting ready to search for clues. Clint swept once more over the faces until-

Oh shit.

Phil.

There, standing in the middle of the chaos, was Phil, looking the worst Clint had ever seen him. The man was staring at the blaze, horror etched on his face as he ignored the men around him.

Clint cursed again, desperately searching for his phone. Phil must think that he was in there. Clint got more frantic, searching every pocket he could.

Where the hell was it?

Clint shot another look at Phil and froze. Clint didn’t have his phone because he dropped it in the explosion. Clint didn’t have it because Phil was currently holding it in his hands.

Fuck.

Without thinking twice, Clint brought his hands up to his mouth and blew, a broken bird call sounding through the alleyway.

Phil’s head snapped up immediately, eyes darting around the wreckage until they landed on the alleyway where Clint was. Phil’s eyes swept around once more before taking off towards Clint.

When the two finally locked eyes, Clint could barely get a word out before he was crushed into Phil’s chest. Clint could only hold on, shaking fingers grabbing at the front of his uniform as he pushed his face into Phil’s neck. His ears didn’t catch anything from Phil’s mouth, but the feeling of hot tears that stung across his neck had Clint grasping Phil tighter.

It felt like forever before Phil pulled away, Clint immediately locking his eyes with the other’s lips. “Jesus, Clint, what the hell happened?! Look at you; I’ll get you a doctor, you need help, you need- ”

Clint shook his head, leaning his head back down to Phil’s. Phil was stammering. Phil was crying. Phil doesn’t do that. This was wrong. This was wrong. This was wrong.

Strong hands brought his head back up. “Clint, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

Clint felt his lower lip tremble, watching as Phil paled even further. “Clint,” he whispered. “Who was in there?”

Clint looked away, stinging tears starting to drip down his face again. “Stark,” he bit out before adding a wobbly, “Bucky.”

“Jesus, Clint.”

And then Phil’s arms were around him again, arms that Clint welcomed. He burrowed further into Phil’s warmth, losing himself in the security of the familiar embrace.

But then Phil was pulling away. Clint tried to protest, but Phil ignored him, looking back up the street.

“Clint. Clint,” Phil snapped at the disheveled man. “Where’s Steve?”

Clint shrugged, movements sluggish. “Thor took him.”

“Everyone else?”

“Not here.”

“Good. Clint, you need to leave.”

Clint looked back up at Phil’s eyes. “Wha- no. No, I need to be here. What if you find- ”

“Clint. We’re going to do a sweep. If they see you, I’m going to have to bring you in. You need to leave.”

Clint started shaking again. “But, but Phil, I- ”

“I know, I know,” Phil said, his hands moving to wipe away the tears from Clint’s face. “I just need you to stay strong a little while longer, okay? Because this,” he said, pointing back to the flames, “was done by bad people. Bad people that, once they figure out you’re not all dead, will continue to hunt you down. Clint, you need to run. They’re still out there and I can’t protect you right now, hell, you can't even protect yourself. You need to run.”

Clint found himself nodding, Phil’s words shaking his core. He was right. HYDRA was still out there. He needed to get to safety. He needed to get his family to safety. 

Focus on the job. 

Phil pressed forward one final time to give Clint a lasting kiss. “I love you,” he whispered, calming voice sending a shiver down Clint’s spine. “Now go, get out of here,” he said, pushing Clint’s phone back into his hands. “And when I call you later, you sure as hell better answer. Got it?”

Clint nodded again. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now, go. Run.”

And Clint ran.

Chapter Text

“Whatever happens tomorrow you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.”

When Steve was little, he would wake up every morning, rising with the sun, and crawl out his bedroom window. The fire escape was rusty and old, but that didn’t stop the small blonde from scurrying up to the roof of the apartment complex each day.

He’d curl up in the little nook he’d made for himself, leaning over the tall structure and watched. Looking down, Steve could see everything. Men in suits sprinting down the street to try and catch the bus. Mothers pulling their small children along the street to get to school. A man with a guitar singing broken notes to get enough money for a hot meal. A couple laughing as they entered the coffee shop down the road. A tired policeman waltzing along the curb as he scoped the road for parking violations.

Steve liked to try and guess who they were, making up stories about their lives. Like the man with the guitar, saving his earned quarters for a personal recording, one that would lead him to a record deal. Or the couple, getting coffee before leaving on their mission as international spies. Maybe the police officer was so tired because he’d stayed up late practicing his lines for a play he was in.

Steve liked the idea of not knowing, the ambiguity. The fact that he would never know if he was ever right about these people. Steve liked to think that he was always was. That they weren’t just average. That they were heroes, each in their own way.

In his little rooftop canopy, Steve hid a shoebox under a worn tarp. In the shoebox were his most prized possessions: a handful of toy soldiers. Not so much as soldiers, per say, as regular people. A few men in suits. A police officer, a fireman. There was a pilot, a few vacationers, some with clothes that were mismatched. There were even some that were clad in bright colors, like the superheroes from the comic books.

They all came from a mold that his dad inherited from his own father, dating back to World War II. The mold had survived through the depression, Steve's grandfather scraping by to provide and entertain his children. While his dad didn't seem to follow the same sentiment, Steve's mother was adamant that they hold onto the small slice of history, taking the tradition into her own hands.  Even after his dad died, Steve’s mom would continue to save their milk cartons and melt them down, carefully filling the molds for Steve. She couldn’t afford to get many toys for him, not with the singular pay check - even though their finances increased after Dad died. There wasn't any more need to buy alcohol for him to drown in. Steve paid it no mind. He always thought he got the better end of the bargain by being able to create his own toys. His mom would gather some paint, and they’d spend an afternoon together. She’d sit and paint them with him, listening carefully to his instruction, always adding on more intricate parts with steady hands. Nurse hands.

Steve liked them because even though they came from the same mold, each of them were different. Unique. Special.

It all depended on what Steve wanted them to be, whatever he was in the mood for. His imagination ran wild, generating stories and adventures for each of the molds, always ready in that old shoe box for when Steve needed an escape.

But no matter how different they were, they were all the same. They were good. They were heroes. They were what Steve wanted to be when he grew up.

His Ma used to tell him that life was like a painting. A fresh canvas that slowly worked its way into a beautiful image. That the colors were remnants of memories; warm and cold, happy and sad. Sometimes, the experiences mixed together to create a brand new color. She said that as the painter, Steve could chose whatever colors he wanted, chose whatever life he wanted. That every painting was just a little bit different than the rest, so Steve was the only one who could choose what would make him happy. And that even though it might not look like much at some points, one day he’d realize that he had been creating a masterpiece the entire time.

Maybe that’s why he enjoyed sketching so much. The control it gave him, knowing that only he got to dictate what kind of stroke he laid down next. That no matter how messy it got in the middle, there would always be a clear picture at the end. Or that if things weren’t going his way, Steve could just chuck it and start from a completely clean slate.

But then Ma died.

And Steve was forced to realize she was wrong. There was no eraser, there were no do overs. There was no clear picture or happy ending. 

Life wasn’t like that. 

Life was messy, stringing the painter along to think they can easily blend their colors together flawlessly, only to blindside them with splashing turmoil and pain across their hard work. Life was cruel, unforgiving, and left stains so dark that they would always show on canvas, for the whole world to see. 

Steve learned that there was only one way to get that clean canvas again. To paint over his old life and pretend that no one would be able to chip back through. To make a shield.

At least he still had Bucky. The stubborn, bold shades that refused to be covered up completely, no matter how many new layers you tacked on. Not that Steve would ever want to, anyway.

He picked Steve up, and well, saved him really. Said that if Steve was going to start over, he would as well. Picked up odd jobs when they weren’t at school. Anything to keep them afloat until their new life changed forever.

Steve didn’t notice someone had been watching him until the man came and sat across from him at the table he was sitting at.

Steve was at a homeless shelter again, waiting for the volunteers to serve dinner. Usually Steve waited for everyone to else to go first, letting the older get access to the hot food, while Steve stayed more towards the portable items. It wasn't as if these people needed the food any less than he did. If anything, they needed it more, and who was he to take more than what they shared with him. And they did share, happily. The ones with the least in the world, still willing to give even that up to share. 

The man just sat and stared at Steve. He was dressed in a suit, somewhat dusty and old fashioned, but still a sore thumb for a shelter such as this. Wiry glasses adorned his face, with wispy, graying hair, laying atop. Steve was just able to make out the beginning of laugh lines along the pale skin.  “Can I help you?” Steve asked warily.

“I don’t know, can you?” Steve picked up on the faint German accent immediately. It wasn't strange to hear around these parts. New York was a shared home to millions from all over the globe. It was if the city was a world of its own, immigrants being bits and pieces of their own culture to help build one of the largest cities in the United States. “You see," the man continued, smiling wryly," I’ve been calling your name for the last five minutes, and you have yet to respond.”

Steve’s heart rate skyrocketed, the blonde only praying that the man didn’t see him reacting. “I’m sorry,” Steve stammered out. “Guess I just didn’t hear you.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “I see," he answered, voice flat. As if he already saw straight through Steve. "Roger Stevens. That is you, isn’t it?”

Steve bit his lower lip and nodded slowly. Was this man the head of the shelter? Or worse, a government official? Steve didn’t exactly know if what he was doing was illegal, but it was definitely frowned upon. The last thing Steve needed was to start something and get kicked out for good. That had already happened too many times to count - for being involved with fights that were decidedly not his fault - and Bucky would kill him if he added another name to the ever growing list. They were running out of places to shop. 

“Are you sure?” the man persisted. “Because,” he continued, pulling out some papers from his jacket pocket, “I could have sworn you were Joseph Grant. Or maybe Steve Rogers. What about Brett Hendrick? This one I believe just says Uncle Sam in atrocious handwriting.”

Steve could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the signs of an asthma attack imminent. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about." 

What the hell was he going to do? He didn't have a contigency plan for this - the closest thing he ever got to a back up plan was to immediately start throwing punches. And he couldn't exactly start a tussle with this guy. As per earlier reasoning. 

The man gave a small sigh. “If you’re going to lie to me, you might as well make it convincing.”

Steve looked away, unable to come up with a response. This was going downhill, fast. Would he end up in prison? They wouldn’t arrest a minor, would they? Bucky was going to kill him.

“What I’ve been doing,” Steve started. “It’s illegal, isn’t it?”

The man just shrugged. “I don’t know, possibly. I’m not a police officer.”

Steve frowned. "Well then what are you doing here?" Citizens arrest wasn't a real thing, was it? 

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” the man smiled. “I always thought it weird that shelters keep records like this. Who the regulars are, who goes in and out every day. I guess they just want to keep tabs on their people, try to help them as much as they can. You can imagine my surprise when I found that you have records in five different shelters, each with a different name. Stealing food, are we?”

“Not for me!” Steve immediately confessed. He might go down for this, but he sure as hell wasn't going down letting everyone think he was hoarding food for himself. 

The man raised a single eyebrow. “Oh?”

Steve sighed. There was no hiding it now. “It’s our landlord. He cheats the residents out a lot. Charges extra for ridiculous things like scuffs on the floor or dust in the air. He’s a tyrant, but what can we do? Where I live, we don’t really have a lot. I mean, the families there can hardly afford rent. But they have kids! They can’t go out and live on the street! For us, food is just a luxury. I stop by the shelters every so often after work and try and grab some sandwiches. Nothing too big, I mean, these people need it too. Just enough for some of kids. I asked some of the people here if it's alright, and they're more than happy to share! Listen, I’m sorry if I’m breaking the law, I just needed to help! I never take too much, I swear! Please, don’t tell the owner- ”

The man held up his hands in surrender. “Woah, easy, easy. I’m not going to turn you in.”

Steve eyes him suspiciously. “You’re not?”

“No one ever turns a hero in.”

Steve’s head snapped up, meeting the man’s kind eyes. A hero?

The man put the paper back in his jacket pocket, before brushing nonexistent dust of his sleeve. “Tell me more about this landlord.”

Steve eyed the man, but dutifully agreed. He said he wasn’t a cop, so what harm could it be? “He’s a real piece of work, basically a slumlord. I’ve tried to go to the police a few times, but- ” Steve broke off with a hollow laugh. “You can imagine how that went.”

The man hummed in agreement. “Yes, the police are not always the best option. You see, this city is filled with the corrupt, the evil. Criminals, landlords, business men, politicians. The police swore an oath to protect and serve. Not many people realize that they protect and serve the criminals too, just depends on who gives the bigger pay check. It’s left to people like us to help. Be the hero for the little guy, I suppose. Bring justice.”

Steve gaped at the man. “I don’t understand. Who are you?”

“Abraham Erskine. I’m a friend.”

“Sorry,” said Steve, stepping away from the table. Ending up in prison was one thing, getting caught in a pyramid scheme is something else entirely. "I don’t have a friend by that name.”

The man reached out and grabbed Steve’s arm, the grip surprising loose, as if the man was already taking Steve’s stature into consideration. “I’d like to be. It’s not often a man such as myself meets someone special. Someone like yourself.” When Steve didn’t respond, the man continued. “You come out here every day to risk yourself for others. Help in any way that you can. What if I told you that you could do so much more for them. Be so much more for them.”

“Like a job?”

The man chuckled lightly. “Something like that, yes.”   

“Why are you telling me this? What’s going on?” Steve snapped.

“Do you want to kill them?”

Steve startled. “What?”

Erskine shrugged. “The corrupt people in this city. If you could. Would you kill them?”

Steve furrowed his brow, thinking it over. “Is this a test?”

“Yes.”

Steve looked back up from his hands, locking eyes with Erskine. “I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”

Erskine just smiled.

Steve still couldn’t fathom how much that conversation changed his life.

The SSR was not something he could ever envision himself being a part of growing up. But it was only a matter of weeks before Steve realized that he couldn’t envision his life with it. Without them.

But then HYDRA took them all away.

So, Steve took out his paint and laid a fresh coat over his canvas. Start again.

It was Bucky, yet again, that stopped Steve from drowning. Pulled him back out, gave him new hope.

“Put a new team together,” he had said. “Be stronger, this time. Be better.”

And Steve did. He threw together the shadiest looking team that could have possibly ever existed. A team that was so different, but one in the same. A family. A bunch of toy soldiers in an old shoe box, all from the same mold.

Steve stared down at his hands. Still shaking. The tears had stopped, along with the screams. Steve was sure it was just because his body couldn’t produce any more. That it shut down, like the rest of him.

He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t care.

Thor was there. Maybe. Were there others? No. They were gone.

Tony was gone.

Bucky was gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

Steve shuddered, thinking back to those toy soldiers. Happier times. Steve had always thought, ‘third time’s the charm’. He’d started his life over for a third time, taken a chance with The Commandos. He thought’s he’d finally found it. The colors that made him happy; the ones that made him a masterpiece.

But he was wrong. The colors were wrong, the colors were gone. Gone like the toy soldiers, that he kept safely in his desk. Nothing more than a blackened, melted pile of plastic now.

Steve felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. Thor. Steve didn’t dare meet his eyes. “Where?” Steve whispered, shuddering at the sound of his voice.

Even with his short question, Thor seemed to understand. “I am not positive of everyone; we’ve all seemed to scatter after… what happened. Clint hasn’t come back yet. Natasha… she’s gone off grid. Dugan and a few more haven’t come back from where they took off in the woods. Wilson is still here, standing with whoever else is left to guard the survivors.”

“Survivors?”

“Hammer,” Thor answered with disdain. “And a few other men we found on the grounds, cowering in fear like their boss.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, sticking a hand out which Thor immediately took to help him up. He glared at the back door, no doubt to lead Steve to wherever Hammer and his men were being kept.

“What are you going to do?” he heard Thor ask.

There was a time for patience. A time for waiting, for planning the next move. To gather information, build a case. There was a time for justice. There was a time for a good man.

But there was no time now. There was no time for that good man, that Steve Rogers.

That Steve Rogers died in the fire alongside his friends.

“I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill them all.”

A light flickered somewhere above him but Tony paid it no mind. He sat there, like he had for the past few hours, picking idly at the blood caked on his hands.

He wasn’t exactly sure where he was; he wasn't exactly sure he cared. What felt like years since he had spoken to an aid on the phone, a vehicle rolled up to where Tony was huddled over Barnes, doing everything in his power to keep him breathing. Hands reached out and loaded them both in. The same hands that pushed him out of the way to start working on Barnes. He didn't fight them, opting to collapse into a seat and drift, pretending he still couldn't hear the other injured passenger's screams in his ears. And then he'd somehow ended up here - wherever here was. He figured it was better not to ask - Tony had asked for off the book, and he got off the book. All Tony knew was that he would call, and then somehow, some way, Strange would create a sterile location for him to do his work. Tony had seen him save a life in the back of a school bus once.

Barnes had lost consciousness again, but Tony wasn’t surprised. For as stubborn as that man was, no one could outlast blood loss forever. Tony had been impressed that the man had managed to make it that long. Strange's men worked on him throughout the whole ride. Once at their final destination, Barnes was offloaded and rushed inside before he could even blink. Which leads to now, with Barnes in the middle of surgery, and Tony, still frozen in shock in the hallway, staring at his hands. This place was cold and dark, but quiet. It was almost nice - that was until Tony shut his eyes and was met with the screams and the roar of flames. 

“You really should let us tend to you.”

Tony cracked his eyes open, locking in on one of the many assistants that Strange used. She was strangely clean; her scrubs looking as pristine as they would when they came from the package. Not looking like they had just been locked in a room with a one armed man who was bleeding buckets.

Tony’s stomach churned again. “How’s it going in there?”

The nurse ignored him. “You’re still bleeding. Let us help.”

Tony shook his head, gesturing back to the other room. “Fix him first. I’ll be fine.” God only knows what will happen to me if that man dies. 

She sighed, and started to walk away. To Tony’s surprise, she came back, gently placing a first aid kit at his feet. “Just in case you change your mind.”

Tony shot an arm out and grabbed at her scrubs. “Is he… Will he be- ” Tony broke himself off with a sigh. He couldn’t even get through the words. Tony had prided himself on how he’d created an armor over the years. A way to protect himself for others. Their feelings, reactions, problems. But Tony knew, deep down, that there would be no way to save himself from the burden of Barnes’ death. That after everything they’d just been through, Tony would still have to go back to The Captain and his men, and tell them that he hadn’t been quick enough. That he hadn’t been good enough. He could almost see The Captain’s face now. And Tony knew that it would kill him.

The assistant pulled away. “Your friend is strong. He will pull through.”

“He’s not my friend,” Tony said on impulse. “Do you have a phone?” he asked, but the nurse had already walked back into the other room.

Tony sighed, letting his head fall back against the cold wall with a small thud. She had just come from surgery; she wouldn’t have had a phone anyway.

Tony leaned forward, reaching for the suitcase that had survived the whole jounrey, now blackened and dented from recent events. With shaking fingers, Tony carefully unlocked the clasps, sighing in relief when he saw the computer inside with a light blinking, indicating it still operational. Even if Tony didn’t have a phone, he might be still able to reach out to The Captain through the computer.

He reached down, pulling the laptop out, when he when a crinkle of paper. What the?

Tony froze. He put the computer to the side, reaching back down into the briefcase.

And pulled out the sketches from The Captain’s office.

They had survived.

Tony, upon hearing Barnes in the gym, just dropped the sketches, not realizing they must have fallen in the briefcase. When he was getting ready to run, he didn’t even have time to check when he snapped the briefcase shut. He was in too much of a hurry.

Tony smiled softly at the still pristine memories. At least he could use this as an ‘I’m sorry I got your house blown up and maimed your best friend’ present for The Captain.

Checking to make sure that all the blood on his hands had dried, Tony delicately picked up the sketches, idly sifting through them. He silently preened when he stumbled on his own sketch, the brunette making sure to put that one on the top of the pile. Maybe he did mean something to The Captain if he'd made the infamous wall of memories. Tony had seen the sketches many times, but this was the first time he could sit and sift through each one. He couldn't let Cap think that he was getting attached. 

What Tony wasn’t expecting, as he continued to shuffle through, was a picture, almost yellow in age, to freeze the blood in his veins.

Howard.

It had to be Howard. There was no way it wasn’t. Tony looked enough like Howard, but there was no way that signature facial hair and beady eyes belonged to anyone else.

What the hell?

This didn’t make any sense. Why would The Captain know his father? The Commandos weren’t even around when his father was alive.

This was wrong.

“Steve? Need Steve.”

Barnes’s broken voice bounced around in Tony’ head. Steve had been nagging at Tony’s brain the entire night. After going over each of the Commando members, Steve could have been one of two people. A lover, because the only other family Barnes had was in the mob. But that couldn’t be right; if the looks the man had been sending Natasha were any indication, Tony could see that Barnes was gone over her.

Which left only one option.

The Captain was Steve. Which, of course, made more sense. Who else would Barnes cry out to when he thought he was dying?

Now Steve was just another name, but this? Tony looked back down at the sketch of his father. A simple name of Steve wasn’t just any other name anymore. Tony’s heartbeat escalated once again, feeling his brain take off in a torrent, processing the new information.

“I know exactly who you are, Mr. Stark.”

 “Don’t test me.”

“That’s true. Why do it myself when I could just pay someone to do it for me?”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Joseph Grant, huh?”

“Who knows? Could be my real name. I’ll leave you to your deductions.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No, I just don’t like the fact you’re keeping secrets.”

“You know, that’s pretty rich coming from the guy whose name I don’t even know.”

“Yeah, yeah, Stark men are made of iron. That’s not my point, Tony. I just- ”

“Stark men are made of iron. Where’d you here that one?”

“You mentioned it once. When you were drugged up.”

Steve.

Steve.

Steve.

Steve.

Steve.

Steve Rogers.   

Chapter Text

Tony crept down the steps slowly, his feet easily skipping over the creaky sections of the grand wooden stairs that he knew so well. It was like he was a kid again, sneaking down from his room to try and catch a glimpse of Santa Claus. Except there was no Santa Claus; there was just his dad dumping his homemade cookies in the trash, half empty glass of whiskey sloshing around in this other hand.

Tony remembered how he had laughed. “You didn’t actually believe that bullshit, did you?” the man had said before tipping back the rest of his drink. He had crouched down, grabbing at Tony’s shoulder roughly, like he was also using the small boy as support. “You know where the word ‘lies’ come from? Love, imagination, entrustment, and security. Lies. It's all nothing but lies, Anthony.”

Tony couldn’t really recall how crushed he had been. As a child, he had been forced to sit through countless lectures by his father. That had just been another lesson. Honestly, Tony should have just known better than to put faith in a man with a big red suit. “There are only two things that won’t lie to you, Anthony,” his father had continued. “Mentality and engineering. What does that stand for?”

“Me,” Tony had mumbled, biting down on his lip to keep the tears from streaming down his face.

“That’s right, boy. No one will ever know you like yourself. The only way you’ll be able to thrive and excel is by protecting yourself; keep yourself away from all the lies. Don’t get involved, Anthony. Never get involved.”

Tony shuddered at the memory.

He had only been six.

Of course, Tony tried to stay positive. At least his dad had been there for that Christmas.

But he was older now, smarter now. He’d spent his childhood soaking in Howard’s lectures, adhering to them like Velcro. Tony pushed away the lies of the outside world, focusing on only himself. It had paid off, of course, his mind and abilities bringing Tony to lengths that he had only dreamed of. Just like Howard had said.

But today was the day. The day that his dad would finally know of the triumph that was his son.

It had taken Tony forever, but he had finally managed it. A first draft of an AI robot. It didn’t look like much, with its simple treads and singular and cumbersome robot arm, but Tony had slaved over the coding and manufacturing for months on end. Every piece was bought from his own pocket and crafted by his own hands.That wasn’t even getting started on the escapade of dragging the thing up from the lab and into the main entry hall. It was brutal, frustrating work, but upon finally sitting back and looking upon the finished product - Tony could finally understand why it was worth having kids. Pride bubbled up in his chest - and it hadn't even done anything yet! Time to watch it take its first steps. 

Tony had originally designed it as a helping bot for Jarvis. His parents often entertained, what with his mother’s charity work and dad’s endless business partners, usually leading to extended trips. Jarvis, being the old fashioned butler that he been taught to be, still grabbed all their belongings, having it packed away in their rooms by dinner. But Jarvis wasn’t getting any younger, and Tony had been struck with the inspiration to help the closest thing he had to family - a friend.

The bots claw was designed to pick up heavy loads, the guest’s suitcases that Jarvis wouldn’t have to lug around anymore. Of course, Tony still hadn’t figure out how to get the robot to manage stairs yet, but he bet that his dad could help him work out the final kinks.

It would be perfect.

Tony had been sitting up in bed for hours, staring out his window, waiting for his father’s return. Some business meeting, Tony had overheard him telling his mother. Tony had always thought it odd that his father would schedule these meetings in the middle of the night, but dad had always said that ‘business waits for no one’. When he saw the familiar set of headlights pull up along the winding gravel driveway, the small boy had darted out of his bed, and slowly down the stairs. While he had promised himself to approach his father in the morning, nothing could keep Tony away from the initial reaction his robot would get.

Tony sucked in a breath as he heard the front door open, wanting to dart down the rest of the stairs, but another door opening, the parlor, stopped him.

“Howard?” His mother’s voice floated into the darkened hall, cool and collected as always. Like a spring breeze. Light flooded the hallway as she cracked the parlor door open completely, walking towards the front door.

“Maria,” his father’s gruff voice answered. He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into a long kiss.

Pulling away, Tony saw her raise an eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you?”

Howard beamed. “Today, Maria. Today was a big day.”

Tony’s heart pounded. Did his dad already know? He squirmed on the stair he was sitting on, excitement getting the best of him.

“Oh? Meeting go well?”

Howard hummed. Ah, Tony thought. So his dad didn’t know yet. It didn’t matter. The element of surprise made it so much better.

“First day with the new recruits, today. I guess Erskine finally managed to convince Phillips that we needed some new blood.”

“Get some good choices?” His mother started to lead his dad farther into the entry way.

Howard let out a small chuckle. “You have no idea, Maria.” Tony felt a small frown form on his lips. He’d never heard his dad laugh like that. Maybe since he was in such a good mood, he would be even more impressed with Tony’s invention. “I mean, you should have seen him, Maria.” Tony’s heard, listening back into the conversation. “He just jumped right on top of the dummy grenade! I’ve never seen a kid do something incredible like that.”

Uh, how about me, when I built my first circuit at the age of four, Tony thought.  

“It was unbelievable,” his dad continued. “Hearing him argue strategy with Phillips, my God. I wish I had a camera. I mean, hell, Maria. I didn’t even think about half the things he thought of. And it’s me, we’re talking about here; that never happens.”

Tony was pretty sure that he was the one that suggested his dad use different engine configuration for a smoother ride in his car just a few months earlier.

“I have never seen anyone like this kid. He’s the real deal; something special.”

Tony bit his lip. Who was his dad talking about? The last thing he needed was competition for his dad’s affections; he had been working too hard and too long for it already. Tony deserved it.

He watched as his father finally stepped over into the main entryway, already heading in the direction of the bot. Tony felt his heart catch in his throat. This is it. He knew his parents were still talking, but Tony couldn’t hear them over the pounding of his own heart. Just a few more steps. Howard was taking off his coat jacket, briefcase switching between hands as he did so.

Tony grinned. Showtime.

Tony watched as his dad made the final steps of his journey over to the bot, ready for when he would put the briefcase down. Tony could only imagine his face when the robot would lean down and pick the case back up, waiting for instructions. His dad reached his hand out, finally, and-

threw his jacket over the bot.

Tony watched in horror as his father idly walk by, eyes not even looking back to the bot as he and his mother made their way back to the parlor. This wasn’t right. This shouldn’t be happening. Why was this happening?

Tony raced down the rest of the stairs, hoping to catch up with his parents. Maybe it was too dark? Maybe his dad didn’t realize what it was? Tony ran up to the bot, quickly throwing the coat off. The bulky claw and base shone dully against the light from the parlor. What else could the hunk of metal have been?

Tony smacked his head down against the cold frame.

He had failed. Again.

“What’s his name?” The pounding in his head had stopped long enough to hear his mother’s voice once again.

“Rogers. Steve Rogers.”

Tony clenched his fists. Who the heck was this Rogers kid? Why was he special? What did he have that Tony didn’t? Tony didn’t understand; he had everything. He was smart, he always looked his best for their guests, even put on his ‘press face’ and behaved when his father had asked. What was he missing?

Tony’s head zoomed through possibilities, his mind looking for the missing variable to connect the two equations.

Why wasn’t Tony good enough?

Tony was once again encased in darkness as he heard the parlor door shut again. He flopped down the ground, head still resting against the robot. Above him, he could hear the bot give a few curious chirps, obviously waiting for his order.

“Don’t bother,” Tony snapped, ignoring the way his voice cracked. “He obviously wasn’t impressed. You’re not special. We’re not special.”

The bot made a few more noises, not understanding Tony’s words. Not that it could, of course. It was only meant for simple tasks. Simple wasn’t extraordinary. Simple wasn’t good enough. Simple wouldn’t get his father’s love. Tony looked back up at the large claw.

“We’re both just a couple of dummies, aren’t we?"

Tony laced his hands together, trying to stop them from shaking as the memory coursed through his head. He remembered when Jarvis woke him up the next morning, having fallen asleep on the large robot as his brain tried to contemplate the previous night.

He ended up locking the robot down in the lab, his father not even caring about it then.

Jarvis had liked it. Tony remembered that he used to go down to the lab to bring Tony some lunch, staying just to have DUM-E fetch things for him, as if he was playing with a dog. "I'm so proud of you," Jarvis had said. Tony never appreciated the sentiment; Jarvis could - and would - tell him that every day and it still didn't matter. It didn't matter as long as Howard never said it as well. 

That night could be seen as both an ending and a beginning. The beginning of Steve Rogers, and the end of Anthony, Howard’s perfect little boy.

Howard had been right about one thing. The only one that he could protect himself was to keep away from the lies. All the slander.

And you can’t spell Howard Anthony Walter Stark without spelling slander.

Tony bit his lip hard, tasting the coppery bitterness of blood on his tongue. He should leave. Barnes would survive; Tony couldn’t do anything more to help him. If anything, this way his only chance to run. He knew who Steve was now. Tony felt another wave of betrayal course through him.

How could The Captain - Steve - lie about this to him? There was no way the man didn’t know his father. What his father did to him. But he had chosen to say nothing. Why? 

Are you really that surprised? his thoughts asked him cruelly. They were never really on the same side. Just working the same angle to get the job done. That's how it started, and that's how it should have finished. But no, it was like he was a child again, listening to his father yell into his ear - "Don't get involved!" 

After all these years, Howard still plagued his thoughts, his actions. And after years and years of defying the man - even after he was long dead in the ground - he still managed to be right. Tony had gotten involved. He had fallen for The Captain's smooth words and bright smiles. He had fallen for "I do trust you." He should have known better, honestly. It was the same tactic that he had started with as well. But he'd relaxed, and let himself drift down a new path, following the tantalizing bread crumbs The Commandos left as they trailed ahead of him. The slightest glimmer of a different life, a new beginning. A chance of being part of something bigger. 

Look where that had gotten them. 

"You know where the word ‘lies’ come from? Love, imagination, entrustment, and security. Lies. It's all nothing but lies, Anthony.”

He really should leave. The Captain didn’t know where they were. Tony could just slip out of their lives forever, building up the walls be had so carelessly let down to work with The Commandos. He could move on. 

He could be safe again. Away from the lies.

Mind made up, Tony stomped away towards the door and back outside. Where the fuck are we?

It was pitch dark out, the grassy area that Tony stepped out into not having almost no lighting. He walked a bit further, only to trip over a huge rock. Pain flared up his entire side, his injuries from the fire remaking themselves known. Tony stood up, grumbling, and turned around to be met with a gravestone.

Tony’s head snapped around, finally catching the shadows from the other similar tombstones. We’re in a fucking graveyard. Turning back around, Tony could see the building where he had just stomped from. If Tony had to guess, it was probably the maintenance building. It every way, the site was perfect: quiet and out of the way. No one would expect to find them there. But it was sure as hell not a place Tony expected for Strange to try and safe a life. What a sick fuck.

Seeing a street light in the distance, Tony walked to the exit, away from Barnes, away from his problems. Tony shivered as he walked; the adrenaline gone from his body and the harsh temperature freezing Tony’s sore bones.

Finally reaching the main gate, Tony was happy to find that Strange’s people had left the gate unlocked from when they entered. Tony walked back onto pavement, turning around to read the sign. First Calvary Cemetery.

Tony groaned. Strange had driven them all the way out to Queens. Fucking figures.

The brunette tightened his grip around his ripped sweatshirt. With his luck, Tony would probably die of hypothermia before he found a way home. Regardless, Tony listened for the sound of cars, and headed off to the right. He didn’t make it too far before he found himself stopping again.

Them.

Strange had brought them all the way out to Queens.

Tony snapped his head back to the cemetery where Barnes was still being housed. Tony, of course, owed the man nothing; he had already saved his life.

But did The Cap-Steve know that?

Tony never got a way to contact them. For all the blonde knew, Tony and Barnes were supposed to be back at base.

The base that had just blown up.

Ah, shit.

What the hell would The Commandos think when they come back to find their home destroyed, Tony and Barnes nowhere to be found?

You don’t owe them anything, he thought. No, Tony really didn’t. And after today, he was done with The Commandos.

But this?

This was a man’s life, The Captain’s best friend. Tony knew he would be tearing up the entire state looking for Rhodey. He could do the man one final decency. Besides, with The Commandos so focused on Barnes, it would be the perfect opportunity for Tony to slip right through his fingers for good.

Tony spun in a circle, looking for anything that – perfect. He sprinted to the nearest corner, pay phone in sight. He didn’t have any change on him, but that didn’t matter because he didn’t know any of The Commando’s numbers by heart anyway. That didn’t mean he didn’t know where he could find help, however. Tony quickly picked up the receiver and smashed 0.

“Hi, listen, I need you to patch me through to the NYPD,” Tony responded once he was greeted with the operator. “No, no. If it was an emergency I would have called 911. I’m not looking for a whole squad, I’m just looking for one guy. Phil Coulson.”

The last few flames were finally being quenched. Phil had heard talk of some of the men getting ready to go inside.

Phil’s stomach churned, glad he wouldn’t be one of them. He could still remember the way Clint had shaken in his arms, so distant and lost. Phil had never seen him like that.

He knew, of course, how close The Commandos were to one another. While the thought of losing Stark would burn enough, Phil knew the loss of Bucky would be much worse. He knew that Clint would have thought that losing his eyes would hurt less than losing Barnes.

Phil knew he was being selfish, and was probably going to hell for even thinking like this in the current situation, but he thanked God that it was Barnes in the fire and not Clint. If Clint had been in there, Christ. Phil’s heart throbbed painfully at the thought of how he felt as he saw Clint’s phone on the ground, flames shining against the darkened screen.

Phil had almost charged in there himself, flames be damned.

But even though he’d escaped the flames now, Clint was nowhere out of the fire yet. It must have been HYDRA that did this; there was no doubt about it. They were still out there. What if they came back to finish the job?

Phil should have taken Steve up on his offer. Taken Clint away to some small town and started over. Leave this life and finally be safe. But he knows they’d never be safe. They’d always be running.

And besides, running wasn’t exactly his style. And it sure as hell wasn’t Clint’s. They’d get through this, like they always had. Phil had seen Clint and The Commando’s deal with HYDRA once. They could do it again. They would do it again.

Phil startled as his phone started to buzz, looking at the bright screen. It wasn’t a number he recognized, but that didn’t stop him from answering the call.

“Clint?” he asked immediately, disregarding how hoarse his voice sounded.

How wrong Phil was.

It wasn’t Clint.

It was Stark.

Phil found himself standing frozen, mouth gaping open for the second time that night. The call wasn’t long, but Phil soaked up every detail; the man didn’t even have time to respond before the man had hung up the phone.

Alive. They were both alive.

Phil stumbled with his phone again, this time calling Clint’s cell.

Pick up, pick up, pick up.

“Phil?” a small whisper came over the phone.

“Clint!” he exclaimed, adrenaline reentering his bloodstream. “Where are you?”

“I, um, I’m not sure. I’m safe I-I think.”

“Clint, listen to me. I found them.”

“Wha- Jesus, Phil. Please, I don’t wanna know, please- ”

Phil cursed. “No, no, sweetheart, calm down. They’re not dead. Do you hear me? They’re not dead. Bucky’s alive!”

“What? Phil you can’t do this to me, not now.”

“Clint, I swear to you. They’re alive. I just got off the phone with Stark.”

“But-but how?”

“I don’t know, but you’ve got to tell them. You’ve gotta tell Steve before he does something stupid.”

Phil heard Clint suck in a deep breath, no doubt agreeing with Phil’s statement. “Where?”

Phil shivered at the dark tone. That wasn’t Clint. That was Hawkeye, The Captain’s deadly eye in the sky. It always managed to surprise Phil that Clint could change like that, like a flip of a switch. Gone was the easy going farm boy, replaced with a deadly threat that stalked through alleyways. “First Calvary Church. Queens. Find Steve. Bring your boys home.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Chapter Text

The first shot rang out before the door had opened completely.

The resounding thud that filled the now silent room was loud, but nowhere near as satisfying as it should have been. Blood pooled around the grimy floor, the bright red accenting the off white tiles. The occupants inside barely had time to react before Steve was stepping through the threshold, shooting another one of Hammer’s men straight between the eyes. Maybe there were shouts. Maybe there wasn’t. Steve couldn’t hear anything besides the blood rushing in his ears, the red staining his vision.

Hammer was currently cowered in the far corner of the small room, trying to effectively hide behind his three remaining henchmen, all of which looked about two seconds from keeling over themselves.

Steve raised his gun again, ignoring the pleas before shooting another one down, humming slightly when the other men cowered as blood sprayed over them. Without another second of hesitation, Steve moved to the next target, stopping only when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Cap?”

Steve whipped around, throwing the body against the wall, quickly covering it with his own.

“Cap, calm down. It’s just me,” a steady voice filtered through his ears. Steve’s vision, still swimming, managed to lock in on Sam, the man seemingly unaffected by his violence, even as Steve had his gun aimed at his chest.

Sam reached his hand out slowly. “Cap, give me the gun.”

Steve stepped back abruptly, darting out of Sam’s reach. “Get out of here, Wilson.”

Sam walked towards him slowly, hands up in the air. “Cap, you’re not in the right mind. Give me the gun.”

“I’m not gonna ask again, Sam.”

“Cap, please. You don’t know what you’re- ”

Steve’s hand shot up, gun raising, and fired a bullet just to the right of Sam’s head. “Get. Out.”

Steve could see Sam tense, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore. His mind was a run-away steam engine, plowing full speed ahead towards tracks that weren't there anymore. There was no plan, there wasn't anything - only the hot, boiling anger that fueled the engine to keep racing forward. Steve didn’t even turn to look back as Sam scurried out of the room, finally leaving him alone with the remaining prisoners.

Steve stepped over the other bodies with disinterest, looking at the other men standing in front of Hammer. “If you tell me who you work for, I’ll let you leave.”

The two men looked at each other, ignoring the protests of Hammer. “Uh, w-we were just contracted by Hammer,” one of them stammered out, the whites of his eyes shining in bright contrast to the darkened room. “We don’t know anything, I swear,” he confirmed.

Steve hummed, looking to the other one. “And you?”

The other man shook his head quickly, his eyes darting between Steve and the floor.

“Well, I can’t hold being hired muscle against you. You may leave.” Steve stepped aside, watching as the two men sprinted out of the room.

“Wait, what?” Hammer nearly screeched, but then Steve was there, forcing a large hand over his mouth. “Shh,” Steve hissed. “Listen.”

Sure enough, the silence was once again filled by a few shouts, followed by what Steve was sure was Thor gunning the running men down.

Steve ripped his hand away from Hammer’s mouth, pushing the man towards the wall. “I-I don’t- ”

“I said they could leave. I didn’t say they could leave alive,” Steve responded, stepping closer to Hammer.

Steve saw Hammer gulp. “You know, you should listen to your friend,” he said. “You aren’t in the right mindset.”

“On the contrary,” Steve interjected. “I’ve never been more sure of what I have to do.” He walked up to Hammer, placing the gun’s muzzle against the man’s shaking chest. “Now, I’m going to give you the same option. You can tell me who you’re working for and I’ll grant you the luxury of my men gunning you down as you leave, quick and painless.”

Hammer eyed him warily. “And if I don’t?”

“Well,” Steve continued. “Then you can spend the rest of your miserable life in here with me as I carve you into nothing. I don’t know about you, but I’m really hoping you choose the latter.”

“Captain,” Hammer started. “I’m a powerful man. I can help you, let’s sit down and talk about this.”

Steve scoffed. “There’s nothing you can give me except the satisfaction of hearing your last breath. And even then, it’ll probably be as disappointing as you are.”

“You need money? I can get you funds! What about weapons; you need a new haul?”

Steve pulled out a small knife, tailing it up Hammer’s arm. “Time’s ticking, Hammer.”

“Alright, alright!” The man shouted, already caving as he flinched away from the knife. “It was HYDRA! HYDRA contacted me. They’re the ones who set the bombs off.”

“How did they know where I live?”

“I-I don’t know- ”

“Lies," Steve snapped, flicking the blade across Hammer's cheek. He looked good in red. 

“No, I swear! I only know what they tell me, man!”

“Who do you work for?”

“I already told you, HYDRA!”

“I need a name, Hammer.”

“I don’t have a name! I was only contacted over email.”

“Stop lying,” Steve roared, watching as his hand twisted the knife into the other man's arm. 

The man whimpered. “I don’t know anything, I swear! I can give you the email address, but I’m telling you, that’s all I know. Please, it was basically blackmail! You gotta help me.”

Steve sighed. “That’s all you know.”

“Yes,” Hammer breathed out. “I’m just a pawn.”

Steve snorted. “Well, there’s no arguing that.” Steve stepped back, letting the man breathe before charging forward and thrusting the knife into the meat of his thigh.

Hammer cried out, instantly collapsing on the ground. “What the hell?!”

Steve kicked the man, relishing in the pained grunt. “I know you’re lying to me. That’s okay, though. You see, I was lying too. You don’t get to leave. You don’t get the pleasure of a coward’s death. Sorry, Justin. Looks like you’re stuck in here with me.”

“You can’t do this! You’re sick!”

“Sick? You know what’s sick?” Steve hissed. “Watching your home burn to the ground knowing that your family is on the inside burning with it. Do you think they screamed? Can you imagine how they felt? Trapped in a burning inferno as the skin melted from their bones. Do you know their pain? I do. I feel it,” Steve continued, pointing at his chest. “I can feel the flames in my body, the pains in my chest. I can hear their screams sounding in my head. So no, you don’t get to leave. You don’t get to run. They didn’t to run. They only felt pain. And that’s the only thing you’ll feel as well.”

“You can’t do this; you won’t do this. You don’t have that kind of dark side.” Hammer almost taunted.

“I’m sorry to say that you just haven’t seen it yet.” Steve paused. “Would you like to?”

Clint stumbled across the alleyway, cursing into his phone as he was greeted with another voicemail. His hands shook as he typed in Steve’s number again, newfound adrenaline pulsing through his body.

They’re alive.

Phil’s voice continued to resound in his ears even after hanging up with the man minutes ago. Clint heard himself laugh, almost hysterically, feeling a few more fresh tears spill down his cheeks. He didn't know how it was possible, he didn't care. Somehow, someone upstairs had smiled down on him and his family. 

Clint wasn’t exactly sure how he ended up where he was, only guided by his grief and guilt. Now, with the news of a lifetime, Clint had never been more desperate to reach out to his team. Which, of course, was seemingly futile as no one was answering.

Definitely not a good sign.

While most of The Commandos strength came from being such a close knit bunch, it was also their downfall. They didn’t do the whole grief thing well. Even a simple injury could lead to a spiral of murderous rage from a fellow Commando. But this was a completely different monster. It was strange, considering is wasn't as if their job description didn't include death. But after defeating HYDRA the first time, it was if they were riding an elongated high. They were untouchable, invincible to both crime and the law. And all it had taken was one night, one push of a simple button, and their entire world had been decimated. And while the blinding horror and rage had been replaced with giddy relief - the foundations of their life as they new it still stubbornly standing - the threat was still there. This bomb was only the beginning - and while they wouldn't be burying anyone tonight, no one will come out of it unscathed. The veil had been pulled back, the glass shattered around them. Tonight was the first glimpse of a potential and very harrowing future. His friends near death was one thing, but it had only been mere hours and Clint was lost in the city, unable to reach the rest of his team, unable to figure out what step is next. 

Maybe that was the plan all along. HYDRA just lighting a single match and then sitting back, watching as The Commandos tear each other apart with grief and anger. 

And they would. He'd only caught a glimpse of it while he watched the fire burn, but the broken screams of his Captain would haunt him for the rest of his life. There was no telling what Steve would have done when the tears dried. There's no telling what he would have done if Phil never called him. There's no telling how long before the rest of the city was burning with them. But those were thoughts for a different night. Right now, he needed to find the rest of his family. 

Think, you idiot.

Thor had taken Steve. If you were Thor, where would you go?

Thor, being as powerful as he was, had access to many locations across the entire city. It would take Clint weeks to check them all. And that was time that Clint didn’t have. But, having to deal with a delirious Steve drastically changed the options. Thor would have had no choice but to choose the closest location to get Steve somewhere safe.

Which left nothing viable except for the Asgard facility closest to base. It was out of the way, but not too far. Besides, no one would question if they saw Thor Odinson walking into one of his own factories.

Clint took off down the alleyway, charging straight into the street. Horns blared, but the man refused to move, standing his ground as a car came to a screeching halt in front of him.

Clint charged over to the driver window. “Please, lady, you gotta help me. I saw a man with a gun in the alleyway!”

A middle aged woman gaped at Clint. “What?!” Her head snapped towards the alleyway. “I don’t see anyone. Who?”

Clint pulled out his weapon, aiming it at the woman. “It’s me. Get out of the car.”

The woman scrambled to obey, jumping out of the car quickly. “Thanks, sweet cheeks,” Clint winked, hopping in her place, taking off down the street. Normally, grand theft auto wasn’t really his thing, but Clint had to find The Commandos. He had to find Steve.

The drive to the factory was quick; Clint was still around the area of their base when Phil had called him, his mournful stumbling not getting him too far. He almost cried in relief when he saw some familiar vehicles in the parking lot. Not even bothering to turn off the car, Clint leapt out, sprinting towards the building.

He threw open the door, almost tripping over a pair of bodies. For a moment, Clint saw red, thinking them to be bodies of other Commandos. Looking back down, Clint was relieved to see that they were Hammer’s men.

Wait, Hammer’s men?

Clint cursed. If Hammer’s men were here, that could only mean that Steve had already started his grieving process. Clint could only hope that he hadn’t killed them all yet.

“Barton?”

Clint’s head snapped up to see Thor approaching him the hallway. The huge blonde swept Clint up in a crushing embrace. “Where the hell have you been? I was starting to fear the worst, my friend.”

Clint sent him a smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, buddy. Where’s Steve?”

Thor’s face turned grave. “I do not think you should interrupt him. He’s having a chat with Hammer.”

Clint tried to walk past Thor. “No, we can’t let Steve kill him. We can use him for information!”

“I fear there is no stopping the man. I myself am having a hard time not going in there to finish the job.”

Clint shook his head. “Thor, I need to see him. They’re not dead! Bucky and Stark! They’re alive!”

“What?”

Clint beamed again, charging past Thor. “Tell everyone! I know where to find them!”

Not even waiting for an answer, Clint charged through the back room. While he didn’t know exactly where Steve was, the screams that were coming from the rear door was clue enough for him. Clint burst through the door, watching as Steve’s hands were just curling around Hammer’s throat.

“Cap!”

Clint raced forward, trying to pull the man off Hammer.

Steve shouted, fighting against Clint, trying to reach back for the already sobbing prisoner. With another growl, Steve flipped around, grabbing Clint by his own throat and pushing him up the wall, Clint’s feet barely touching the ground.

“You better have a good reason for coming in here, Barton,” Steve sneered.

Clint tried to gasp around Steve’s crushing grip. “Alive,” he managed to spit out. “They’re alive.”

Steve let go of him immediately, dragging the man up again by his shirt collars. “What did you say?”

“They survived, Cap,” Clint smiled. “Do you hear me? They’re alive!”

Steve voice echoed brokenly in the room. “Where?”

Goddammit.

Tony raced along the street, charging back to the cemetery as quickly as possible.

Of course. Of fucking course.

Tony, after hanging up on Coulson, continued on his venture of getting the hell out of dodge. The Commandos knew where to go, and Tony was given the perfect window to slip out of their lives for good. And, of course, the lying Captain got the added benefit of knowing that his just as deceitful best friend had survived. Honestly, if I don’t get into heaven after today’s snafu, I’m suing.

But, it turns out God just liked to continue to fuck him over, as Tony was about five blocks downwind when he realized he’d left his briefcase back in the cemetery.

Normally, Tony would just say screw it. It would probably be less hassle for him to just snag another computer from his place than head back into that shit storm. But that computer had all the locations that JARVIS managed to weed out as potential HYDRA locations. And even though Tony was saying sayonara to The Commandos, there was no way that he was stepping out of the game.

HYDRA still had come after his people. So HYDRA would still have to pay. This time with a little more Tony.

Which was why Tony was currently running full speed back to the cemetery. Knowing The Captain, he’d unleash his full pack of blood hounds once he knew Barnes was alive; Tony knew he wouldn’t have much of a window to escape unnoticed.

Sprinting back up the large iron gates of the cemetery, Tony breathed a sigh of relief when he was met with a lack of cars and commotion. He crossed the grassy field, blatantly ignoring the graves he was running over, dipping inside the maintenance hut.

Tony could hear Strange murmuring to the nurses in the other room, no doubt checking over Barnes one final time, but Tony paid them no mind. His eyes zeroed in on the briefcase, Tony moving quickly to snatch it up.

Tony opened it, checking over to make sure that the laptop was still inside, disregarding the sketches it also still housed. Satisfied, Tony turned to leave back through the door when it burst open, The Captain almost falling through the door from the force with which he opened it.

The blonde’s hair was disheveled, eyes wide and red-rimmed, covered in- wait, is that blood?

Tony didn’t even have time to hide before the mob boss had locked eyes with him. “Tony,” he whispered in a rough voice. Before Tony could respond, the mob boss was crossing the room in large steps, engulfing Tony in a hug.

The briefcase went clattering the floor as Tony was surrounded, arms pinned by the blonde. God, was he crying? Tony felt wetness form along his collarbone as The Captain burrowed his face into his shoulder. Tony almost groaned. He did not sign up for this.

“Uh,” Tony tried to start, cut off by The Captain squeezing him harder.

“God, Tony. I-I don’t even know- ”

“Cap,” Tony tried to breathe around the larger mass. The other man ignored him, however, blubbering into his shoulder, Tony only catching half of what he was saying.

“-just so happy that you’re okay. You’re okay, right? I swear to God- ”

“Cap.”

“-don’t know what I would have done if- ”

“Steve.”

That did it.

Tony felt the man stiffen, his arms almost locking around the brunette. Tony could feel his heartbeat quicken against his own chest, almost hearing the gears churn in The Captain’s head as he tried to comprehend what Tony had said. He finally pulled away from Tony, his wide eyes locking instantly with Tony, mouth opening before snapping shut again.

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” Tony prodded. “Steve. Steve Rogers.”

The way The Captain looked away was answer enough. “H-how did you- ”

“It’s a yes or no question, Captain,” Tony snapped.

Tony saw the man flinch but continued to hold his ground. He wasn’t about to sit idly by anymore; Tony had been lied too enough. “Answer me,” Tony hissed. “Is your name Steve Rogers?”

The blonde sighed before nodding slightly. “Yes,” he answered in a small voice.

Tony felt his eyes close, jaw clenching. There. That was it. One simple word to send his world crashing to the ground. One simple word, that’s all it took. That’s all it ever took.

“Was I a mistake?”

“Yes.”

“Do you wish Steve was your son?”

“Yes.”

“Are my parents dead?”

“Yes.”

“Is Jarvis gone?”

“Yes.”

“Is Odinson your weapons dealer?”

“Yes.”

“Is your name Steve Rogers?”

“Yes.”

Tony looked back at The Cap-Steve. “We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

They didn’t talk right away.

No, Strange had come bursting through the door, telling Tony that he had finished with Barnes. Which of course meant that Rogers, no different than a lost puppy, raced in to see the other man. Unfortunately, he didn’t give Tony a chance to run off again, as he grabbed the smaller brunette and dragged him along.

Seeing Barnes was tough. It didn’t even look like the man Tony knew. He looked small, breakable. His skin was red and blotchy, burns from flames that Tony couldn’t save him from. There were cuts and bruises forming along his side, no doubt from the debris. And the missing arm? Even after finally being removed of the blood and gore that had covered it before, Tony still wanted to run to the nearest trash can.

Tony almost lost it again when he heard the wounded sound that came from his left. Rogers bolted from his side and straight to the bedside, arms reached out for the fallen man. Right before he got to the bed, the blonde froze, his hands hovering slightly over the other form, as if he thought that even the slightest touch could hurt him. That if he got too close Barnes would just disappear again.

Tony knew he had seen the missing arm; there was no way he could've missed it. But Rogers wouldn’t take his eyes away the screens, staring straight into the constant jump on the EKG machine. “You saved him,” Rogers whispered, finally able to pull his eyes away from his best friend. He was crying again.

Tony shrugged. “Didn’t do a very good job.”

Rogers snapped his eyes to the missing limb. “He would be dead,” he croaked out, almost choking on his words. “He wouldn’t be here, if it wasn’t for you. You saved him.”

“Yes, we’ve established that.”

Rogers bit out a watery chuckle. “Only you could sound so impervious to being a hero.”

“And you. You sound pretty unconcerned for being a liar.”

Rogers sucked in a tight breath. “Tony, I- ”

“Don’t you ‘Tony’ me, Steve Rogers.”

“I just don’t think that this is the right time to talk about this.”

Tony scoffed. “Oh, of course. You’re so right. When is a good time for you? Because apparently, you were too busy to mention it in the months that we spent working together!”

“Tony, please,” Rogers pleaded. “You’re still injured. Get some rest; I will gladly talk about this with you later.”

“Absolutely not. There is not later, there is only right now. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Rogers deflated, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Tony, I- I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought it would bring up bad memories, what with your strained relationship with your father.”

“Strained?” Tony laughed harshly. “There was no strained relationship. That’s because there was no relationship. Surprised your best buddy Howard didn’t mention that.”

Rogers looked at the floor. “He, uh, he didn’t talk about you much.”

It was a slap to the face. When he was young, with the name Steve Rogers still fresh in his mind, Tony wasted countless hours haunted by the unknown. He pictured Steve alongside his dad in every way shape or form: working with him, laughing with him, being loved by him. And every damn day, he watched when his dad return home, a smile plastered on his face until he saw Tony. The man would berate him in every way imaginable, Howard loving nothing more than listing all of his flaws, showcasing how he always managed to fall short to the unattainable Steve Rogers. And when he was alone again, crawling back in his lab to lick his wounds in private, he would be right back where he started - with his mind wandering to the relationship his father had with the unknown man. He always wondered what his dad ever said about him to his work colleagues - the man always made it clear enough to Tony why he was never worthy to see that side of the business. But what spite did he spew for the SSR? Was it the same, or did Howard save the worst of it for his chums? Did they agree with him? They must have, if no one ever trusted him to be involved in that world. But to hear that from Steve, to hear that he was so unwanted that he wasn't even a single thought in his Howard's mind? That he wasn't even worth his own father's disappointment? 

“Well isn’t that just great,” Tony mocked. “Because he never shut up about you!”

“You’re getting worked up, Tony," the blonde tried to placate. "I’m sorry for what happened between you and your father, but how could I have known? How is it- ”

“What?” Tony interrupted. “How is it your fault? Was that what you were going to say?”

“Tony,” Rogers breathed.

“Do they know?” he asked harshly. 

“What?”

“Your band of misfits! Do they know who you are?”

Rogers clenched his jaw. “They’re aware of where I came from.”

“I didn’t ask that,” Tony snapped. “I asked if they knew who you were. If they know what you did.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do they know that you killed them all?” Tony sneered.

Rogers paled, freezing at Tony’s words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Because you know you did it. Steve Rogers killed the SSR.”

“Shut up,” Rogers snapped. “You and I both know it was HYDRA.”

“Are you sure?” Tony asked, stepping closer to the quickly retreating man. “Do you know that for a fact?” Tony broke off with a laugh. “Of course you don’t. You don’t know anything; you didn’t know anything. The SSR’s precious little intel boy. The perfect tactics, the perfect information. It’s a shame you never saw HYDRA coming.”

“There was a mole! How could any of us- ”

“Oh, the boy who cried mole! You really expect me to believe that?”

“It’s true!” Rogers cried. “Information was being leaked, and I didn’t know- ”

“It was your job to know! Funny how you’re the only one who survived. Maybe you were the mole. Got sick of taking orders, didn’t you? You wanted to be in charge; decided to take out the SSR yourself.”

Tony would never forget the day he'd figured it all out, the day he'd traced everything back. His parents were dead, Jarvis was dead. Each day was a blur of alcohol, each night nothing more than a faint whiff of smoke and blinding lights. It wasn't until the day of the funeral that everything had changed. Obie had found him passed out in some coke den, dragged him into the shower to spray him with a icy spray to sober him up. Tony sat idly, face blank as he was dressed, carted off in a car, and pulled to the cemetery. He didn't want to be there - he'd made his position very clear. He said that he'd only attend if Jarvis would be laid to rest the same day. It was then that they told him that Jarvis was already taken care of, already laying in the ground. They didn't even bother to hold a ceremony for him. To say Tony took that well was a lie - he did, after all, end up in a coke den. 

Obie hadn't seem to care much as he ended up at their funeral anyway. He didn't really remember the service, who came, or even the caskets being lowered into the ground. What he did remember was a comment, as he was finally leaving. Usually, Tony filtered everything out; it was usually the same anyway: "So sorry for your loss", "Can't even imagine", "He doesn't even look sad", "How much will the stock drop?" . But this one, Tony would never forget. "Such a tragedy. Can you believe the driver was drunk? Makes me think twice about the help I hire." 

Tony gaped at older woman, plump with wealth and finery, false sympathy barely seen through the layers of makeup, jewelry, and designer clothes. Tony would have charged right at here if Obie hadn't intercepted him. How dare she? 

Jarvis didn't drink. He never drank. Tony had asked him once, and watched as the man got quiet, hands slowly from where he was washing Howard's crystal tumblers. "I used to," Jarvis had admitted softly. "I was quite fond of a nice brandy. Got me into a lot of trouble in my youth," he had admitted with mischievous eyes. 

"Why did you stop?" Tony had asked. 

"I saw firsthand that it wasn't just a drink. It was a poison in the wrong hands. One that can turn anyone into the worst of monsters," he had replied softly, hand trailing gently over Tony's freshest bruises. That one had had the shape of his father's class ring. "Didn't seem to interest me anymore, after that." 

And Tony knew it was true. Jarvis never touched a drink again. But after the funeral, it was all anyone could talk about. The drunk driver that had killed the Stark family. Tony became obsessed, trying to find any evidence that would clear his butler's name. He knew it would be true, so then what had killed them? It wasn't until he had managed to steal the coroner's report that he knew something was wrong. 

Bullet wounds shouldn't show up in car accidents. 

He had confronted Obie, of course. And Obie had just smiled softly - "Clever, curious boy" he had called him - before sitting down and telling him about everything. Filling in his gaps of knowledge on the what his had did behind closed doors, on the SSR, on Steve Rogers. On how they really died. 

"We can't tell everyone what really happened," Obie had said. "What your father was doing was illegal." 

"But we have too! Jarvis is innocent! He didn't do anything wrong," Tony had cried in return. 

"I'm sorry, my boy. That's the way it has to be." 

That day had changed everything. Tony had planned to confront what was left of the SSR. It wasn't until he got close that he found out the rest of the them were dead. Except for Steve Rogers. 

Rogers grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him from his thoughts. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Exactly,” Tony hissed. “You just sat back and let my family die.”

“They were my family too!”

“NO!” Tony cried, yanking his body away from Rogers. “They weren’t your family! They were mine! It was my family, my friends, my life. And you just came in and you took it all. My dad was supposed to pick me! Me! But no, you come waltzing in one day and suddenly I’m nothing more than an accessory. Why did he pick you?! What made you so goddamn special?! I sat every single goddamned day of my life, just waiting for my dad to come home one day and tell me I finally made it. That I could finally come work with him. But he gave it to you. He gave it all to you. And you failed. I could have protected them; I could have done what you couldn’t. But he chose you. And you took them all away.”

Rogers looked wrecked, fresh tears spilling over his paled cheeks. “Tony, I- ”

“Save it for someone who cares. Because this,” Tony said, gesturing between the two of them, “is over. I’m done with you. I’m done with your lies and your secrets. I know what happens to people who get caught in your web, Steve Rogers. Because I don’t know if you remember, but I almost died yesterday. I almost died because of you and your lies. Well I’m done. I’m out.”

Trembling with anger, Tony stomped towards the door, pleased when Rogers didn’t try to reply. “I’d wish you luck,” Tony added, sending one final glance at Rogers, “but there have already been too many lies between us.”  

And with that, Tony walked out the door and out of The Captain’s life.

Bucky was floating. Or maybe he was drowning. In the end, he didn’t really care. Anything to get him far away from the flames.

It was hard to even tell if he was still burning or not. The air on his face felt cool, but he could feel the fire still dancing in his veins, sizzling under his skin and shooting down his arm.

Am I dead?

In his profession, it wasn’t the first time he had asked himself that, but Bucky was almost certain that he had been a goner. Bucky tried to force his eyes open, but the slight movement drained the energy he already didn’t have, the bright lights that crept through his eyelids scorching his pupils.

He heard voices, but he was unable to make out what they were saying. Someone was touching him, hands gently dragging over his chest. Bucky wanted to squirm away, say fuck off, anything, but he couldn’t.

How did I get here? Where is here?

All he could remember was fire and smoke.

Time passed. Maybe. Maybe time doesn’t pass for the dead.

There were voices again.

But they were different. Angry.

Why are they yelling? Bucky listened closer. It was hard, his ears struggling to work, his brain sluggish as it tried to comprehend the noises. They were familiar tones; he’d heard them too many times before.

Howard?

When did Howard get there? Why was he yelling at Steve?

Howard never yelled at Steve. Steve was the one person who never got the tail end of the man’s temper.

That wasn’t right. Howard was dead. But he was dead, right? But Steve? God, Steve can’t be dead. Was Steve in the fire?

Howard got louder, voice frantic and heated, the severe tone pounding into Bucky’s head.

And then there was nothing. Wait, there was something. Was there crying? Who was crying?

Another hand pressed against his forehead, shaking as it brushed lightly through his hair. “Buck?” he heard.

Steve.

Bucky tried to open his eyes again, following the voice he had for so many years. “Buck, you with me?”

Bucky groaned Steve’s name. Or, at least he tried too; even in his disheveled state, Bucky knew that what came out of him were definitely not words. A cool pressure rested against his lips, Bucky humming softly as he let the ice chip slip between his teeth.

Taking one last deep breath, Bucky pried his eyes open, ignoring the pain from the lights to find his friend. His movements were slow, his eyes listless as he tried to find the familiar face. When he finally saw Steve, Bucky couldn’t help but try and smile.

Dear God, did the man look horrible. His face was tight and drawn, a white pallor fixed behind red rimmed eyes. His clothes were rumpled, covered in blood and God know what else.

“You look like shit,” Bucky grated, his voice harsh from the fire.

Steve burst out laughing, leaning down to press his head into Bucky’s side. The shaking from Steve’s shoulders seemed to rock the whole bed, the quaking increase as time went on. It was then when Bucky realized that Steve was crying, not laughing.

“Steve,” Bucky tried again.

“I thought you were dead,” he heard Steve whisper. “I thought you were gone.”

Bucky frowned. “Hey, look at me.” Bucky tried not to wince when Steve finally did look up, his face ruined even more. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Steve closed his eyes, nodding slowly. “Just-just don’t do that again. It’s not good for my heart.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Oh, your heart hurt? Well how do think I feel, asshole? My God, I’ve been awake for two seconds and we’re already talking about you, you conceited little- ”

And then Steve was laughing again, a much better sound than the first time, Bucky easily joining in. It was like they were young again, bantering easily as they patched themselves up in their shithole apartment.

Bucky laughed harder, breaking off into a couching fit. Steve reached for water, Bucky accepting it gratefully as the other man helped pour it down his throat.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked. “Be honest.”

“Itches. Burns.”

“Where does it burn? T-there’s some cream here I can put on,” Steve managed to stammer out.

Bucky stared at the man. Steve doesn’t stammer. Well, minus the occasional woman of course, but Steve always spoke his mind, and he did it with pride.

Something’s wrong.

“Arm,” Bucky croaked out.

Steve didn’t answer, just grabbed his arm, his other hand reaching for the cream. He stopped when he heard Bucky’s groan. “Other one,” the brunette said.

Steve froze.

“Steve, please. It hurts.”

“Um. Buck, I- ”

But Bucky didn’t hear him finish as he found himself staring down at his left arm. Or where his left arm should have been.

But there was nothing. No arm, no fingers.

Just a stump.

And then suddenly, everything was coming back to him.

The thump of his fist hitting the sandbag.

The boom of the first explosion.

The cracking of the fire.

The creaking of the ceiling.

The snapping of the support beams.

The slicing of the fan rotor.

The feeling of the pain.

“Steve,” Bucky forced out, his heart rate accelerating.

No, this was wrong. This didn’t happen. This can’t have happened. That’s his arm. He can’t lose his arm. This wasn’t real. This isn’t real.

“Bucky. Buck, calm down.”

Hands grabbed at his face but Bucky couldn’t pull his face away.

Away from the nothing.

No. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Steve was babbling but Bucky didn’t hear him over the roaring of his own ears.

No no no no no no no no.

He didn’t know how he got there, but Bucky found himself pushed into Steve, his face smashed in the familiar shoulder, strong arms bracketed around him.

Someone was screaming.

It was him.

“What now?”

Steve dropped his hands away from his face to look at Thor. He hadn’t even heard the other man come in. Who knows long he had sat there.

Bucky had drifted off again, body exhausted from the tears and the screaming. Steve just sat there and took it all; he deserved it.

Clint and Thor had shown up, finally extracting Steve from his friend’s side. No one asked about Tony. Maybe they already knew.

He had failed. Just like he always did.

Tony had every right to blame him for what happened to his family. Phillips knew there was a mole, there had to have been. Information that only the SSR were privy to was broadcasted all over New York, and no one could figure out how it was being done. And then, one by one, the SSR had fallen. Steve had tried so hard, did everything he could to save them. And he couldn’t.

And what does he do now? He almost kills his best friend, as well as ending a friendship that had just started to flourish. Hell, half of his crew is MIA, the rest probably ready to quit after recent events.

Tony was right.

Steve Rogers was bad news. He'd always been. 

“I’m sorry?” Steve asked, finally answering Thor.

“What do we do? Stark’s flown the coop, Barnes is out of commission. We don’t even know where half of our own legion is. Friend, I will never be one to doubt your leadership, but we cannot sit idle. Not while those monsters still roam the streets.”

Steve nodded slowly. “When The Commandos first faced HYDRA as a team, we were woefully unprepared. We lost a lot; we didn’t understand the things they were capable of. We barely able to scrape through a with a win. This time, we thought ourselves so much better. We thought that taking care of them would be no more work than dealing with the common pest. I was too headstrong to realize that we’re in the exact same boat as we were before.”

Thor clapped a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “We managed to pull a victory before. I have no doubt that we shall triumph again.”

“But at what cost?” Steve snapped back. “We can’t just hope to have more guns than them. I won’t do that to them, Thor. They may be soldiers, but I’m not about to send them to the front lines of Omaha Beach.”

“So we run instead?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just,” Steve sighed, “nothing’s working. I can’t sit around and wait while HYDRA continues to destroy New York. I’m getting desperate; I need to protect the family I have left.”

“You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Thor soothed. “You need to let us help you.”

“Fine. Then this is me, asking you for help.”

“Anything.” Thor replied.

“You ever hear the phrase, ‘an enemy of my enemy is my friend’?”

“Of course. What are you asking me to do?” Thor asked warily.

“I want to talk to Loki.”

Chapter Text

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

Alexander Pierce sighed softly as he slowly closed the file he had been reading. He knew this moment would come; it was inevitable. Honestly, how it had taken this long was a blessing. Finally dragging his eyes away from his desk, Pierce looked up at a fuming Obadiah Stane.

“I’m sorry?”

Stane snorted. “Don’t play dumb with me. It was you, wasn’t it?”

“You’ll have to be a tad more specific. I do lots of things.”

Stane rounded Pierce’s desk and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. “The explosion at The Captain’s base. It was you.”

Pierce tugged away, hands gently pressing down at his now wrinkled suit. “Well, I’m not going to say no.”

Stane hissed out a sharp breath. “You’re an idiot. I told you to wait, to sit back on the information. Let The Captain and his merry men drop their guard. But no, you just couldn’t resist. Just had to prove that you had the bigger guns.”

“We do have the bigger guns,” Pierce protested.

“And what good did that do us?”

“Are you really making this out to be a bad thing? Their home is gone! There isn’t anywhere for them to hide anymore. They’re wounded now; it’s the perfect time to attack.”

“There was too much risk involved! What if you managed to get The Captain in the blast? We need him alive.”

“My men waited until he left. I took precautions; I’m not an idiot,” Pierce hissed. “Besides, it's better this way. The best way to get to The Captain is through his crew.”

Stane shook his head. “It’s been days since the blast and there hasn’t been a single word from The Captain. I know he’s a skilled tactician, but there is no way that that man would just sit by and do nothing if some of his clan was in the blast. You fucked up. We had one chance to make it count and you’ve ruined it.”

“You’re just not thinking positively.”

“How can I? The explosion was a bust; The Commandos lived to see another day. That’s not even getting started on the fact that my two business partners went behind my back.”

Pierce rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like you don’t have your own personal agenda.”

“And what’s your personal agenda? Tanking this whole operation?” Stane snapped.

“It’s just a minor setback. Regardless of anyone dying in that explosion or not, The Captain is still vulnerable and you know that. Yes, I regret not informing you of my plan, but action needed to be taken. That kid has had too much power for too long; I needed to knock him down a few pegs. And now? Now he’s right where we want him. He’ll get desperate. It’s the perfect time to finish them.”

Stane eyed him warily. “Desperate men are capable of many things.”

“Yes,” Pierce agreed. “Things like failure. The age of The Commandos is over. HYDRA will reign once again.”

Stane sighed, pacing the length of the office. “What about Hammer? I know you weren’t alone in this.”

“I haven’t heard from Hammer since the explosion. Dumbass probably got himself killed.” Stane shot Pierce another glare. “Oh, come on,” Pierce continued. “If anything I did you a favor. Hammer wanted you out of the way just as much as Stark. Besides, I’d already gotten all the information I needed from him anyway.”

Stane raised an eyebrow in question. “That’s right,” Pierce started again. “He told me about your little chat with him. Turns out I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets from my business partners. You try and double cross me, I double cross you. That’s business. You want this to work? Then we need to work together so we both get what we want.”

Stane clenched his jaw. “Fine.”

Pierce gave a sharp grin. “Glad we settled that.” He gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Please, sit. Let’s talk about our next move.”

Tony glared at the jumbled mess that lay in front of him. What had started as a new design had steadily cascaded into nothing more than angry lines and drunken doodles. He sighed, crumpling the paper into a tight ball, not even looking as he tossed it towards the trash can. Tony heard the paper hit the floor, but he didn’t look up. It’s not like there was any room in the trashcan anyway, as it was already overflowed with failed ideas.

“JARVIS, messages,” he groaned, rubbing a hand over his tired face. When was the last time I slept?

“You have one from Mr. Stane regarding a business deal,” JARVIS started. Tony rubbed at his temples. Back to work for only a few days and Obie was already breathing down his throat to get him to start dealing to the mobs in New York. If anything, he was more adamant to decline. The last thing he needed was to get involved with another mob. For all Tony knew, he’d probably end up working for another one of Howard’s prodigies.

“Delete,” Tony responded. He could deal with this. All he had to do was distract Obie with a new design and the man would back off for at least a couple of months.

“There is another one here from a Dr. Strange. It appears Mr. Barnes is on the mend and he wants to know if- ”

“Delete,” Tony snapped. He didn’t want to hear about that. He couldn’t hear about that.

After leaving the cemetery, Tony had managed to stumble to a main street. It wasn’t long before Tony found himself in a cab, on his way home. Tony had been thankful the driver didn’t comment on how he looked. Knowing that they lived in New York City, the driver probably saw shit like that daily. While Tony could only think about nothing except for a warm shower and his soft bed on the ride home, he found himself in the lab. Which was how many days ago?

He had showered at one point, probably even eaten. Tony didn’t really know; the hours started blending together after the first day. Anger still coursed through his veins, betrayal clawing up the sides of his throat every time he took a breath.

He would be fine. He was always fine. Stark mean are- no. Tony was made of iron. His father was weak; Tony was a survivor. He’d had an entire life of people trying to take him down. And Tony always rose from the ashes. This was no different.

I’ll survive.

No. I’ll do more than that.

I’ll thrive.

“Anything else, JARVIS?”

“Nothing other than your usual harassment from Ms. Potts, Sir.”

Tony closed his eyes. There was yet another problem he had to deal with. Pepper had come back from the ‘potential business merger’ in England, and it left Tony out of ideas again. He couldn’t exactly send her of to another country; he’d already tried to go the vacation route, but got nothing but an unimpressed gaze. She was starting to get suspicious. Part of Tony just wanted to run and tell her everything, wanting, needing the comfort of his friend. But he couldn’t. The Captain wasn’t going to be a problem now anyway; the less she knew about the entire matter, the better. Tony just had to keep Pepper out of the spotlight until he took care of HYDRA.

“I’ll deal with those later. You got anything on those locations for me?”

Before the explosion, JARVIS had been running tracers on devices that accessed the fake Joseph Grant information. Now back in the safety of his own home, Tony had managed to access the data and pull up two more potential HYDRA locations.

JARVIS had been scouting the locations for the past few days, collecting data from the cameras and online sources. Tony had to be smart about this. If the explosion taught him one thing, it was that HYDRA was a much bigger threat than he had anticipated. And, with the lack of muscle on his side, Tony had to try less than conventional routes to ensure a victory. Not that he was worried. Tony had won more with less. Besides, he got to do things his way now; there was no doubt in his mind that he could find the heart of HYDRA by the end of the week.

“Still gathering and processing, Sir.”

“Good,” Tony retorted. “Keep me updated.”

“Of course, Sir. Might I suggest you lay down for a while?”

“Nice try, J. I’ll sleep later; Daddy’s got work to do.”

“Do you have something to say, or you just gonna stand there all day?”

He saw Sam flinch a little, although he wasn’t sure if it was from being caught staring, or the rough sound that was his voice.

Sam cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize you knew I was in here. You’ve just been staring at a wall for like ten minutes.”

Steve finally peeled his eyes away from the wall, glancing over at the other man. He looked tired, but then again, they all were.

Even days after the attack, Steve and his men were still left picking up the pieces. Clint had been out trying to round everyone up, slowly trying to knit The Commandos back together. It wasn’t going smoothly, however, as it seemed over half of their organization was still missing. Even Natasha. Normally, Steve wouldn’t worry; it wasn't as if they didn't know how to take care of themselves. But with the threat of HYDRA, Steve wanted nothing more than all of his people under one roof again. He needed to make sure he wasn't responsible for any more deaths; he couldn't bear the thought of more of his family's blood on his hands. 

"Steve Rogers killed the SSR!" Tony's voice venomously cut through his head. Steve shuddered. 

Focus on the job, he thought to himself. He had people out searching the streets; it was out of his hands now. He could only hope that all his ducks would manage to stumble their way home. 

Home. 

That was another problem, wasn't it? Thor had offered up his sprawling loft for the people that needed it, but it was still a tight fit, even minus the men who went home to their families, and the ones that were still missing. It was incredibly generous, but Steve knew he and his men couldn’t stay there forever. They needed to regroup, they needed a plan, they needed-

Steve broke off with a sigh. He didn’t know what they needed anymore.

“You wanted something?”

“Just wanted to see if you needed anything,” Sam answered defensively. “When was the last time you ate? Slept?”

Steve didn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer for that either.

He heard Sam move closer to him, feeling a reassuring grip on his shoulder. “Steve. We’re worried about you, man.”

“Drop it, Sam.”

“I mean, it’s been a stressful week for us all. You don’t have to go through this alone. I just think that maybe you should take a day, and- ”

“Drop it,” Steve hissed.

The hand dropped away from his shoulder. “Fine, then. What’s our next move?”

I don’t know, Steve wanted to say. He was just so damn tired. He couldn’t think anymore; he didn’t want to think. “Got any ideas?” Steve asked back.

“Well, Stark ran off with the computer holding all of the other potential HYDRA locations,” Sam sighed. “Looks like we’re back to square one.”

“That’s not true,” countered Steve. “We still have Hammer; we’ll be able to pull info from him.”

Sam shot him an unimpressed look. “Well, we may have to wait on Hammer, considering you basically beat him within an inch of his life.”

Steve didn’t respond. Honestly, if given the choice, Steve would go right back and finish the job. Anything to try and distract him from the fact that he was the one to blame. That it was his fault that everything had happened.

I should have been in that fire.

“Steve?”

Steve looked back at Sam. “What?”

“You drifted off again, man. Maybe you should go to sleep.”

Steve shook his head. “I have work to do. I have to get ready for Loki.”

Sam grabbed at him again. “Yeah, about that. Are you sure about this? Loki, he’s bad news.”

Steve looked back. “We’re all bad news, Sam.”

Chapter Text

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Clint could feel wood dig into his hand as it clenched around the now open door. Natasha just stared back at him as unfazed as always.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she replied, rolling her eyes like nothing was wrong. Like she hadn’t been gone for an entire month.

One fucking month.

One month since the explosion. One month since Stark left. One month since Clint saw Phil in person. One month since he heard Bucky laugh. One month since he saw Steve smile.

Clint wasn’t big on history, but he knew for a fact that the Roman Empire didn’t even collapse this hard. The crew, if he could even call that even more, was in shambles. Some had left, making Clint’s insides burn with anger. Of course, Steve always left the option open for people to leave if it got too much, but no one ever took him up on it. Until the explosion happened, and people’s loyalties started dropping like flies. Some of them - ones that Clint would never think in a million years would walk away from this life - didn't even have the courage to say it to their faces, opting to drop off the face of the map without so much of a trace. Steve, as always, let them go, welcomed it even. But Clint was furious. The fact that as soon as things went wrong, they just slipped away was enraging. More than ever, the family needed to stay together, to draw strength from each other.

But it hadn’t happened. Steve had given each of them so much. A new job, a new house, a new life. And when he needed them? They ran.

Not all of them, of course, but the damage had already been done, to all of them. Steve was nothing more than what was left of their home: a strong sanctuary reduced to nothing but ash. Clint barely saw the man, but when he did it was as if seeing a ghost. The Commandos that stayed by Steve’s side were forced to stay there; the man never let anyone out from wherever they were staying.

As for where they were staying, Clint couldn’t tell anymore. They had stayed at Thor’s for a while, but Steve’s paranoia kicked in; the mother hen trying to protect the chicks he had left. From there, they’d been moved to wherever they could find: old warehouses, abandoned houses, anything to keep them hidden for a few days. Then something would tip Steve off again and process would repeat.

Bucky wasn’t much different. He was closed off; didn’t talk too much, and when he did, he would ask for someone to pass the liquor. Clint couldn’t blame the man, he couldn’t blame Steve either. Their world had been ripped from them so many times, it was only a matter of time before it became too much.

Clint had been trying, they all were. Trying, doing anything to keep them all from drowning. Sam was a constant presence by Steve’s side, Bruce always making sure that Bucky was taking the meds that Dr. Strange had given him, or that everyone was eating. Clint always had men on watch, even had Thor reach out in his own networks to keep them in the loop.

But it wasn’t working; nothing was working. Once a well-oiled machine, The Commandos had collapsed into a rusted over relic. Clint couldn’t remember the last time he got any sleep. Bucky was definitely thinner, Steve doesn’t draw anymore - doesn’t do much, really. It was wrong; everything was wrong.

“Are you going to let me in?” Natasha’s voice filtered into his head.

Clint frowned. “Are you going to run off again?”

Natasha ignored him, stepping around him gracefully. Her eyes tracked the small building, the redhead offering a small hum. “Nice place.”

Clint balled his hands into fists. “Why do you care?” he hissed venomously. “You obviously didn’t before.”

Natasha spun around, but Clint wasn’t met with anger. Just a curious stare, which of course pissed him off further. Natasha cocked her head to the side. “You’re upset; you should go see Phil.”

“Upset doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Clint snapped. “And yeah,” he continued,” it would be great to see Phil, but I can’t. You want to know why? Because I’m here, doing my fucking job. A job that apparently everyone else seemed to forget about! Including you. Where the hell have you been? What a convenient time for you to run off and play spy, don’t you think?”

His friend walked up to him slowly, trying to put a comforting arm on his shoulder, until Clint jerked away. “Clint, you need to- ”

“No,” Clint interrupted. “I don’t want to hear any of your excuses. You should have been here. That’s final. There was no other job, no other reason for you to be anywhere else. You should have been here. Do you even know? Do you even know that’s he’s alive?” Clint nearly cried.

Natasha scoffed. “Of course I know that James is still alive.”

“Oh, well I’m glad that you stopped by. Because, you know, he didn’t know if you were alive. None of us did. You know he calls for you in his sleep still? It’s weird because that’s the only time he talks now. What’s even weirder is that he still ends up being chattier than Steve,” Clint bit out. “You know that Dino’s gone? Yeah, looks like he ran off with Pinkerton and God knows who else. Couldn’t handle the heat, I suppose. And that’s not even starting on Stark. Yeah, that asshole that you hated? Well he’s the only reason Bucky is still alive. But save your thank you’s, because he’s gone AWOL as well. Steve’s taking it great, if you wanted to know.”

Natasha shot him an unimpressed gaze. “You going to tell me anything I don’t know, or are you just going to whine?”

Clint saw red, immediately charging his friend. He wasn't sure what his plan was, maybe his anger just needed some for of an outlet. They'd spared plenty of times in the past; maybe Natasha would let him blow off the steam and frustration that was consuming him. How he ended up crying into her arms, he’d never know. They were on the ground, Natasha’s arms wrapping around his shaking figure, drawing him into a comforting embrace. Gentle fingers pushed through his dirty hair as Natasha shushed him softly. “Where were you?" Clint sobbed into her neck. “We needed you. I needed you and you weren’t there. I-I can’t do this. I’m trying and nothing is working, and I can’t fix this. Everyone’s leaving, Nat. I don’t know what to do; I-I can’t be alone again.”

Natasha shushed him again. “You did so well, ptichka. It’s alright, I’m here now,” she said, rocking him slightly. She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. “This wasn’t your fault, Clint. Those that left were weak. They are no use to us anymore. You need to remember that you can’t save everybody.”

Clint closed his eyes. “I’m so tired, Tasha.”

He missed Phil, he missed their home. Missed all of them cramping around that dumb table, should to shoulder. He missed falling asleep to the sounds of his family around him: the thump of a sandbag, footsteps on a metal staircase, muffled laughter, and the clanging of dishes. He missed catching curled up in a corner, eyes focused on the pencil scratching against the paper. He missed Bucky digging through the fridge, throwing utensils at anyone who got close to his cooking. He missed watching Thor hilariously trying to teach bruce how to punch, he missed Sam trying to flirt with anything that had two legs. Hell, he even missed Stark. 

“It’s alright, I’m here now," Natasha's voice filtered through his head. "You’ve held them all up for the past month. It’s my turn to help now.”

Clint let himself be pulled up and dragged into the next room. He watched as Natasha walked over to a sleeping Bucky, swaddled in blankets on an old couch, whiskey bottle in his one hand. She pushed her fingers through his hair softly, brushing a small kiss across his forehead. “How is he?”

Clint shrugged. “Same as everyone else. Broken.”

She nodded once. “Where’s Steve?”

“Where have you been?” Clint ignored her.

“Looking for answers.” She looked around the room, most likely for Steve, but lucked out as the man came stomping in.

“Natasha?”

She smiled softly. “Steve.”

The large blonde crossed the room, not even hesitating to engulf her into a strong hug. “Where the hell have you been? Jesus, I’ve been going out of my mind trying to find you.”

Natasha pulled away, finally taking in Steve’s appearance. “I can see that,” she replied.

Steve’s gaze hardened. “Nat, it’s not safe out there. You can’t pull that stunt again; I need to keep you all safe. I can’t do that if you decide to go radio silent for a month.”

“Relax, Rogers,” Natasha chided. “I think you’ll forgive me when I show you the presents I brought you.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “What?”

She didn’t reply, already sauntering out of the room, both Clint and Steve on her tail. Stepping back outside, Clint saw an old car, no doubt brought in by Natasha. They kept walking until she opened the trunk, the three of them peering at the cargo down below.

“Who are they?” asked Steve, curiously gazing at the two men tied up, thrashing around against their tight bonds as Clint frowned. He didn’t like where this was heading.

“Hey, Cap,” Clint interrupted. “Why don’t you go check on Bucky?”

Steve ignored him, his eyes only on Natasha. “These,” she said, gesturing down to the two men, “are the guys that planted the bombs.”

Clint froze. Uh oh.

“Wow,” he said loudly. “Great find, Nat. Don’t worry, Cap, we’ll take care of them. How about- ”

“You’re sure?” Steve asked at Natasha, stiffening as she nodded.

Clint bit his lip, trying to step between the man and the car again. “Cap, let’s think about this. We don’t want to do anything rash.”

“How is this rash?” countered Natasha. “What the hell is wrong with you, Clint? This is a good thing. You guys didn’t get anything for Hammer, right?”

“They won’t tell me where Hammer is,” Steve interjected, glaring at Clint.

“It’s for your own good, Steve,” reasoned Clint. “You’re not well, none of us are. We just need to take a few steps back for a while and- ”

Clint was cut off my Steve pulling his gun out and shooting the two prisoners between the eyes.

“What the hell, Steve,” snapped Natasha. “We could have used them for information!”

Steve shook his head. “Not them. They didn’t deserve that luxury,” he answered coldly, staring at the limp bodies before looking at Clint. “Pack up. We need to move again.”

Clint deflated. “Come on, Cap. We just got here, surely we can- ”

“No,” Steve interrupted. “Natasha brought these men here. Someone could have seen. We’re not safe anymore. After I finish with Loki today I want us gone.”

“Steve- ”

“I said, pack up.”

“Yes, Sir,” Clint said with a sigh. He watched as Steve retreated, no doubt back to the back room, anyway from everyone.

“Did he say Loki? What the hell is wrong with him?” Natasha hissed.

Clint gave her an empty stare. “The same thing that’s wrong with all of us, Nat. We’re broken.”

“Fuck!” Tony shouted. “Are you sure?”

He heard Carol sigh over the phone. “Yes, Tony, I’m sure. My men and I were all over the place. There’s no one here. If there ever was, they’re long gone by now.”

Tony groaned, putting his head into his hands. That was it. The last location that JARVIS was able to get for him. And just like all of the other locations, he had nothing. Absolutely nothing. HYDRA had fallen off the map yet again, and Tony had nothing else left to find them.

“If you want, I can have them sweep it again.”

“No, that’s alright, Carol. You guys should get out of there, take a few days. Thanks for the help.”

“Not a problem. Keep me updated.”

“Will do. Stay safe out there.”

Tony ended the call, before throwing his phone across his office. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Tony?”

His head jerked up at the sound of Pepper’s voice. He tried to plaster on a smile. “Pep, what can I do for you?”

Pepper frowned, ignoring the question. “Are you alright?”

Tony smiled harder. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She gave a gentle sigh, the one she always gave when she knew he was lying. “It’s just, it’s been a tough couple of months for you. First there was those bodies, then you were shot, and then The Captain- ”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tony tried to soothe her. “The Captain isn’t a problem anymore. I sorted it out.” By finding out his real name, saving his best friend, and then dumping his ass. 

Pepper sighed again. “If you’re sure.”

“One hundred percent, Pep. The Captain and his men aren’t going to be a problem anymore. Now what’s up?”

“There’s an army man out there for you. You didn’t tell me that you’re setting up another contract with the military. Does Obadiah know about this?”

Tony didn’t answer, the man already out of his chair. If it wasn’t Rhodey, there was only one other army man that would come to his office. “Get rid of him, Pep. You can very go well and tell Captain Grant to go and fuck himself. Who does he think he- ”

Tony froze after yanking the door open.

“I didn’t say it was Captain Grant,” Pepper replied, trying to peer over Tony’s shoulder.

No. It wasn’t Captain Grant. Because it wasn’t Steve Rogers standing in his waiting room.

It was James Barnes.

Pepper walked around Tony standing in between the two. “A Sergeant Proctor, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Barnes drawled. And oh look, turns out The Captain’s best friend just oozed the same amount of charm and power in military dress. Well as much as one could with one arm.

“Leave us, won’t you, Pep?”

“Of course. Call if you need anything.”

Tony waited until she was long gone before speaking again. “Well if it isn’t the one arm wonder, himself.”

Barnes scowled. “Cute,” he grit out, barging in past Tony and into his office.

“Sure, come on in,” Tony responded, closing the door behind him. He watched as Barnes stepped around his office, no doubt taking in every detail that he could. Or looking for all the different ways he could kill me, Tony thought. “What are you doing here, Barnes?”

Barnes sighed, before looking back at Tony. He had to admit, the mob man looked like he had seen better days. Not that Tony could really blame him; the guy just lost an arm. Dark rings sat on pale skin, accentuating his usually set of bright eyes, now looking dull and lifeless. The uniform he was wearing didn’t fit correctly, as if Barnes didn’t fill it out like he used to. The man shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not really sure. To talk, probably.”

“Did Rogers send you? Because you can go and fuck off, and- ”

“No,” Barnes interrupted. “Steve doesn’t know I’m here. How I even got out without him knowing is a miracle actually.”

Tony frowned. “You on house arrest?”

“Not just me,” Barnes retorted.

“Well, I can’t exactly help that your boss has kind of a possessive streak.”

“How’s the HYDRA hunt coming?”

Tony froze at the subject change. Barnes snorted. “Please, like you would stop looking for them even after you left. I’m not stupid. Let me guess, you’ve found jack shit.” At Tony’s scowl, the man continued. “That’s alright, we haven’t gotten too far either. Stevie usually kills them before they step through the door.”

Tony furrowed his brow; that didn’t sound like The Captain at all. Oh please, a voice hissed in his head. It’s not like you knew the real him anyway.

“He’s going to meet with Loki today.”

Tony said nothing, but Barnes must have seen the shock on his face. He didn't actually think that Rogers would ever go through with that. 

Barnes tried to smile. “He’s changing tactics. ‘Enemy of my enemy is my friend’ kind of thing.”

Tony sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He didn’t care. He absolutely did not care that Rogers was basically taking on a suicide mission. Nope. Not at all. “Good for him.”

Barnes clenched his jaw. “Really? That’s all you’re going to say? I know for a fact that you hate the man more than any of us, and that’s what you’re going to go with?”

Tony tried to shrug indifferently. “What did you expect? I’m done with you people. What Rogers does in his spare time is no concern to me.”

Barnes reached out and grabbed his arm, squeezing hard. “I already told you, I’m not an idiot, Stark. I know you care. You can pretend all you like, but you’re not fooling me.”

"Oh, really?" Tony couldn't help but laugh, tugging away from him. "I could have sworn that you said that I couldn't fool you into thinking that I did care! Tell me, Barnes, which on is it?" 

Barnes looked away, shifting on his feet like he was embarrassed. "I know I haven't exactly been the most welcoming," Barnes tried to placate. 

Tony scoffed, cutting him off. “What more do you want from me?! You’re the one who made it blatantly clear that you wanted me gone!”

“And you’re the one who told me I should do something! That I should do what I think is right, not what Steve tells me; especially when that fucker is about to do something dumb. Well, this is me, doing something.”

Tony eyes him warily. “What are you talking about?”

“Loki’s bad news. You know it, I know it.”

“Glad we’ve established what we already know.”

“Will you just-,” Barnes broke off with a sigh, the man obviously trying to calm himself down. “We… no. I need your help.”

Tony stared at the man. How the mighty have fallen. Tony chastised himself; it’s not like he was much better. If anything, he had still fallen way father than Barnes. Tony looked down at the stub of his arm closed his eyes. Fuck my life. “Fine,” he almost whispered. “Have a seat, Barnes. Let’s talk.”

Chapter Text

“Anything yet?”

Sam shook his head. “Relax, Steve. He probably just went out for a walk. He’s got a lot on his mind right now.”

“He’s not the only one,” Steve breathed. “I want everyone available looking for him.” Steve groaned, rubbing at his forehead. “This wouldn’t have happened if I- ”

“What, took a nap? Cap, that’s the first time I’ve seen you crash in days; you needed it.”

“What I need is to keep Bucky safe. Or did you forget what happened the last time I let him out of my sight?”

Sam sighed sadly. “Come on, Steve. You can’t keep doing this to yourself, man,” he said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Nobody here blames you. Why? Because we know whose fault it was. It was HYDRA's. Did you place the bomb? Did you start the timer? No, Steve. It was them; you couldn’t have known.”

“It was my job to know,” Steve hissed pulling away from Sam. “Go. Find him,” he snapped. “Bring him home.”

Sam frowned slightly, before nodding. As he walked away, Steve could make out his faint remark of “what home?”

Steve thumped his head against the wall before charging down the stairs. He couldn’t deal with this right now; he needed to meet Loki. Knowing that the rest of his team was in search of Bucky, Steve slipped out the back and into one of their cars, driving to the location Thor had given him. He knew how wary everyone was of Loki. Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same way, but there was else nothing he could do. HYDRA had them backed against the wall. He couldn’t sit idle again. He won’t sit back and watch his family get slaughtered again.

Steve stepped out of the car after the short drive, and into a closed down gas station. While Steve had originally thought that he would be meeting Loki at one of Asgard’s locations, he was surprised when Thor presented him with such a discrete spot. Apparently, Loki wasn’t in a very good standing with Thor’s father at the moment. He wasn’t in a very good standing with anyone, really. But right now that didn’t matter. If there was one thing Loki could get, it was results. And at this point, Steve would do just about anything to protect his crew.

He walked into the dusty room, already finding Loki leaning against the far wall skinning an apple with a knife. Even in such a causal state, the man looked almost regal, with a perfectly tailored suit, lanky body and slicked back hair.

“Captain,” the man drawled, not even looking up from his apple.

“Loki,” Steve responded, reaching behind him slightly just to make sure that he’d brought his gun.

“Now, now, dear Captain, let’s try and be civil about this.”

Steve froze, as if a kid caught stealing candy. “A man can’t be too careful,” Steve replied slowly.

Loki looked up, finally looking up at him with mild disinterest. “Guns won’t help you here. Now then. Let’s get down to it, shall we? I haven’t got all day.”

Steve nodded, his body still tense. “Of course. I need you to do something for me.”

Loki uttered a hollow laugh, showing off a viscous smile. “Watch your tone, Captain. I don’t work for you, so I don’t need to do anything. I do as I please. It’s all on you whether I grace you with my services.”

Steve clenched his jaw. “And what exactly do you need from me in order to get your services?”

Loki laughed louder this time, his condescending tones echoing through the small room. “Like you have anything I could want. No, no, Captain. I need you to convince me.”

This was wrong; Steve could see why no one liked this man. He could see why people had told him to stay clear. Everything about him was slimy, leaving behind a rotten taste. He oozed a kind of danger that even Steve wasn't a fan of. But he was too far now, he had too much to lose. A whole house full of people that HYDRA was waiting to snatch away from him. “Convince you? Well, no doubt you’ve seen what HYDRA did last month. That not good enough for you?”

Loki shrugged, peeling another portion of the apple. “Wasn’t my building that blew up; not my problem.”

Steve grit his teeth. That was his home, his everything, and to have it thrown to the side like it was just a mild inconvenience disgusted him. “HYDRA is everyone’s problem," he seethed. "They’re not going to stop with The Commandos. It won’t be long until they start attacking other businesses. Businesses like Asgard.”

Loki hummed. “I see. Just like they’ve gone after Stark?" Hearing Tony's voice sent shivers down his spine, their last argument still fresh in the forefront in his mind. He could barely think of little else these days. "Tell me, Captain, why don’t you just ask Anthony for help? If it’s information you seek, I’m sure he’d be more than willing.” The chilling smile Loki sent Steve his way was enough to prove that Loki knew what had happened already between them.

“You leave him out of this,” Steve hissed. He knew he was already selling his soul to the devil by agreeing to work with Loki, but damn if he was going to let the Norwegian drag other through the mud with him. Tony was gone, Steve had seen to that. Lately, Steve had been trying to convince himself that it was better this way. He was out of the line of fire for now, hopefully. Sticking around Steve would probably prove fatal - it already had, once - and Steve wasn't ready to face another reality of thinking Tony dead. 

“Did I hit a nerve?" Loki chided. "Besides, you’ve brought him so far into this that it’s impossible to leave him out, don’t you think?”

Steve furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “The bomb at his business meeting, the bodies at his front door. You didn’t think they would stop now that your dear Anthony has left you, did you? HYDRA wants him dead as well.”

“I’m not gonna let that happen,” Steve shot back confidently. Just because Tony didn't want anything to do with them anymore didn't mean that they were going to cast him to the side. Steve was serious about the job he offered Tony - back when what seemed almost a lifetime ago. And after what he'd done for Bucky, Steve would always be indebted to him. The least he could do was ensure that he always had someone watching his six, even if from the shadows. 

Loki sighed again. “That’s the thing, Captain. You don’t get to choose. It’s either Option A, or B. You don’t get both.”

“I don’t follow.”

Loki pushed away from the wall, stalking over to Steve. “HYDRA has you between a rock and a hard place. They've scattered your warriors and removed your allies. Why do you think they haven’t struck yet? You’re weak, vulnerable, but yet they haven’t made another move. Want to know why? Because they’re waiting for you to choose.” 

“Waiting for me to choose what?” Steve asked.

“They want you to choose between Stark and your crew.”

Steve’s blood ran cold. “I don’t understand,” he managed to stammer out.

“It’s simple. You’ve brought both Stark and your crew so far into your own mess, that there's no way they can both make it out alive. You leave your crew to chase after Stark, and HYDRA will have the rest of your family dead by the time the sun sets. But if you run away with your crew? Then Stark will probably end up face down in a ditch just like his father. Either way, you lose.”

No. Please, no.

Steve shook his head. “You can’t know for sure.”

“Are you willing to take that risk?” When Steve didn’t answer, Loki continued. “You wanted my advice? Well, here it is. Give them Stark.”

Steve gaped at the man. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Anthony is no better than his drunk of a father; regardless of whether or not he had found out your little secret, he would have still left you and your crew out to dry as soon as your usefulness had run out. This whole time you thought you were using him, when it turns out, it was the other way around. Stark's are taught to care for one thing: themselves. He wasn’t your friend, Captain, he never was. He was just using you as a human shield, sending his puppets out to do his bidding while he stays safe at home.”

“No,” Steve gasped. “You’re wrong about him.”

That's not the man he knows. Steve may have thought that once, may have believed the rumors, but he knew the truth now. He saw Tony Stark. The real one. 

“Am I? You know how Stark has operated in the past. How is now any different? Understand this, Captain. Sometimes you must lose a battle to win the war. You always knew you needed Stark, you just didn’t know in what way.”

Steve walked away from Loki, stepping away to look out the broken front window. This was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wasn’t it?

“Do you wish to keep your family safe? How much are you willing to sacrifice to ensure their safety?”

“Anything,” Steve answered immediately.

“Then give them Stark; use him as bait. HYDRA was going to kill him regardless, you might as well use him to your advantage. Draw them back out and then finish them once and for all. You want to find peace, Captain? This is how.”

Tony had been in a lot of awkward situations before. Most of them, of course, were along the lines of Pepper finding him in bed with his latest conquest, ranging from potential business partners to the waitress who served him his coffee. There was that one time when Tony was younger, that Howard had found his internet history before Tony was smart enough to cover his tracks completely. That’s not even getting started on the time Jarvis had walked in Tony trying to clean up a failed experiment that had cost the man most of his clothes and covered the lab with thick goo. Needless to say, when it came to awkward encounters, Tony Stark was your man.

This one, however? This one took the cake.

Tony sat, taking another generous sip from his tumbler, wishing it was something way stronger as Barnes stared at him from the other side of his desk. Tony gestured with the glass, a silent invitation, but Barnes shook his head. “Doesn’t go with pain meds,” he bit out.  

Tony hummed. “Didn’t except you to be such a brown nose.”

“I’m not,” Barnes said. “I just value the remaining limbs I have left. Natasha probably won’t be too kind if I come back smelling like scotch.”

“Smart move,” Tony replied, smiling into his glass. Another silence fell over the two men. Tony sighed. “Alright, Barnes. You have my attention. Why are you really here?”

Barnes shrugged. “Got nothing else to do. Can’t shoot a gun anymore; can’t do my job anymore.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I didn’t sign on to be your therapist, Barnes. Yes, you lost an arm. Yes, it sucks. But if any of the stories are true about you, then you and I both know that you don’t need both of your hands to kill someone. Besides, you shouldn’t be saying shit like that anyway; your other half might wring your neck.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, well that’s Stevie for you.” The other man continued when he saw Tony wince at the name. “You’ve got quite a lot of beef with Cap, don’t you?”

Tony frowned. “I don’t have beef with The Captain, I just have beef with Steve Rogers.”

“Same person.”

“Are they?” Tony hissed.

Barnes sighed. “Listen, I can understand that you’re pissed. But you can’t blame Steve for what your father did or didn’t do.”

“Why can’t I? He’s not exactly innocent in all of this.”

“Yeah, but is he guilty?”

“What are you trying to do here, Barnes,” snapped Tony. “Is this the part where you play my shrink? Because I didn’t sign up for this either.”

“The only reason you’re blaming Steve is because your father isn’t here for you to blame.”  

“You don’t know me,” Tony snapped.

Barnes sighed, getting up from his chair and walking over to Tony’s bar, reaching for a water pitcher also laid out. Tony saw as the other man fumbled with the glass and liquid, clumsy with only having the use of one hand. Barnes poured himself an ample amount before sauntering back to Tony. “You’re right, I don’t. Because I was wrong about you. I told you what kind of man I thought you were, but I was wrong.”

Tony furrowed his brow, before standing up from his desk to intercept Barnes. “Back in the gym, you said you’ve seen men like that before. You were talking about my father, weren’t you?”

Barnes nodded. “Your father was an asshole.”

Tony snorted, clinking their glasses together. “Well I’ll be damned, Barnes, but it looks like we finally found something we can agree on.”

The other brunette offered something almost resembling an agreeable smile. “But you’re not like him, are you?”

Tony took another swig of his drink. “I think a lot of people out there would disagree with you, Barnes.”

“Yeah, but they don’t know you,” responded Barnes. “Howard would have left me in that fire.”

Tony stopped to look at the other man. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. But you didn’t. You came back for me.”

“I never wanted to be him,” whispered Tony. “Maybe that’s why I was such a disappointment to him.”

Barned hummed. “Maybe. But who gives a shit now? Howard’s been dead for years and it’s like you’re still trying to impress the man.”

“Force of habit, I guess. Why do you care? Didn’t realize my father was such a sore spot for you as well.” 

Barnes’ lips formed a grim line. “Steve always saw the best in people; that’s why I don’t think he ever said anything, let alone even notice. But Howard…he always talked about Steve as his. His idea, his find. Like Steve working for the SSR was his own triumph. I saw right past his bullshit; he was just using Steve for his own advances. Phillips gave Howard everything and anything he wanted as long as Steve did his job. As long as Steve was his dancing little monkey.”

Tony’s heart clenched unwillingly. Always the business man, his father was constantly looking for the neck rung to help him climb up the ladder. How many times had he dragged Tony to show him and his genius off to the world. But did Tony get any of the credit? Of course not. The man had been dead for years now and people were still talking about his legacy. Howard’s legacy.

“Sounds like Howard,” Tony mussed. “What about you?” he continued. “Dad never said anything about you.”

Bucky huffed out a small laugh. “Well, turns out you’re not the only Stark I never got along with. Besides, I was never technically a member of the SSR. Erskine picked up Steve, not me. I just came along with him for the road. They tried to scare me off a couple times, but they gave up eventually and started putting me to use. Didn’t really make my top list for jobs, but oh well. I go where Steve goes.”

“You really are the faithful guard dog, aren’t you?”

“Everyone needs a hobby,” Barnes quipped.

“It’s amazing that you two made it out,” Tony continued. He knew what he'd said, what he'd shouted and screamed at Rogers. That it was his fault the SSR was dead. But he knew it wasn't; maybe it was just another thing Tony tried to blame the blonde for. When he'd backtracked through to find the SSR, he caught the whiff of the mole, but he couldn't figure out who it was. Sure, Rogers - and apparently Barnes - were the only ones that survived, but Tony couldn't imagine it being them. It was strange to have such blind faith in the men that had lied and deceived him. He was so convinced throughout his life that it would have been Rogers that was the mole; but now, having a face to the face, seeing him and his number two interact, see the devotion and pride with their current mob, it was if he couldn't fit the final piece of the puzzle in. There was no way either of them were the mole. 

“It was nice, until history started to repeat itself,” retorted Barnes with a shake of his head. “He’s not cut out to handle another loss like that. Steve’s strong, but this thing is killing him.”

Tony frowned. “And what about you?”

Barnes shrugged. “I’ll be fine if he’s fine. But I can’t protect a man who doesn’t want to be protected.”

Tony leaned back against his desk. “I still fail to see what this has to do with me.”

“Yes, you do,” Barnes said with a roll of his eyes. “You just want to do what you always do and avoid talking about it. The Commandos are falling apart; people have already made off for the hill already! Steve’s got the whole place on lockdown and won’t let anyone out of his site. I had to have Barton squeeze me through air vents to get out. We’ve got no leads, no info, nothing. We’re all just sitting around waiting to die at this point!”

Tony eyed him warily. “And I fit into this how?”

Barnes huffed out a harsh breath. “Steve isn’t listening to us. Any lead we bring in, he kills straight on the spot. And now he’s going to meet with Loki? We are so far up shit creek; Steve is going to get himself killed.”

“Rogers won’t listen to me,” Tony scoffed.

“Yes, he will,” Barnes countered. “Whenever Steve pushed in one direction you pushed harder in the other. You two could find a reason to argue about anything. I need you to go back there and tell him that he’s wrong and he’s being stupid. Because even though he doesn’t always see it your way, he’ll always stopped and listened.”

Tony sighed. “Look, Barnes. That man always has a plan. If he’s meeting with Loki, who am I to stop him? For as sleazy as the guy is, he has a high success rate for private jobs, and if Rogers wants to take that risk, then- ”

“But those are risks we never took before!” Barnes shouted. “I know you agree with me; there is no way in hell that Steve would have even considered this a month ago.”

Tony tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe he’s putting a new spin on things. Why should I do anything about it?”

Barnes’ eyes burned into his skull. “Will you quit it?” he hissed, grabbing at Tony’s arm harshly. “This whole lone gunslinger act. Because let me tell you, it’s not working. I know you care. If not for us, but for him. I know you care for Steve.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, trying to escape the iron grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You think I don’t know?” Barnes continued. “About your men guarding our safe houses? Or that there has been a distinct lack of police activity after something as huge as a bomb going off in Brooklyn? Or how about the fact that JARVIS is still monitoring our phones?”

Tony’s heart was pounding in his chest. There was no way he could have known these things. Maybe he was bluffing?

“You know,” Barnes continued. “I may only have one arm but that doesn’t mean my eyes don’t work. You don’t rotate the men watching us, so I see the same faces on the street regardless of where we set up camp. Coulson called and he knows that someone in the force has been paid off, because no one is investigating the bomb further. And, last but not least,” he added, gesturing to Tony’s monitor, “those are Steve’s messages to Thor to set up a meeting with Loki. You didn’t minimize your screen,” Bucky finished with a smirk. “So you can tell yourself whatever will help you sleep at night, but you can’t lie to me.”

Tony stared at the other man, completely in shock, trying to find any angle to spin the conversation away from the current collision it was heading for. “Well you’re shit out of luck, I’m afraid. It doesn’t matter what I feel; I can’t help you. I don’t have anything on HYDRA either. They’re gone. I can’t even find them.”

“No,” Barnes agreed. “And you probably won’t by yourself. But you and Steve managed to find them once. You found them together.”

“So is that why you’re here? To give me a pep talk?”

Barnes put down his glass and turned to face Tony. “I’m here offering an olive branch, Stark. I know you’re a proud man; hell, you might be just as stubborn as Steve. But I know you’re smart, and you and I both know that we’re not going to get anywhere divided like this. I’m here because I’m returning a favor to the man who saved my life. Because you can talk game all day, but I think you know that you need us too. It’s my turn to help you now.”

“I didn’t ask for help,” Tony whispered.

“Neither did I,” Barnes shrugged. “But you dragged me out of that building anyway. So what do you say? You back in?”

Chapter Text

Clint breathed in a sigh of relief when he saw Bucky slip back through the back door. Of course, his lightened mood was quickly suppressed when he saw that his friend had come in alone.

“Still nothing?”

Bucky shook his head, dropping down into an old chair. For the past week, Bucky had been slipping out each day to head over to Stark's, trying desperately to get the man to come back and work with the crew, but to no avail. He wasn’t coming back.

Clint tightened his hands into fists. “Does he really hate Steve that much?”

“I don’t think it’s that. I mean, hell, the guy may have more issues than all of us. He’s had a whole life of people using him and then leaving him out to dry; I’m pretty sure he’s just worried that we’ll do the same.”

Clint groaned. “We really do not have time for this self-loathing bullshit.”

It's not that he didn't get it. From the pieces of relayed information he got from Bucky, the situation between Stark and Steve was a hell of a lot more complicated than what he first thought. Hell, if he were Stark, he probably wouldn't want anything to do with them either. Clint just had to hope that Stark was a better man than the rest of them, and would fly a white flag with his head held high. They definitely couldn't fight a war on both sides - they obviously couldn't even fight one on the one side. Bucky was right; they we're going to need Stark. Steve was out of control, the whole family was breaking apart. They'd all agreed that they could swallow their pride and crawl back to Stark - now, they were just hoping that he could do the same. 

“You don’t think I know that?” Bucky hissed. “Dealing with him is like dealing with Steve; it’s like trying to compromise with a brick wall.”

“I have a feeling that dealing with Steve today is gonna be worse,” a new voice said. Both Clint and Bucky turned to find Sam filter in the room, pulling up another chair to sit with them. “Steve’s pissed, man. Which, usually would be a good thing, considering that means he’s doing something other than moping, but it’s pretty bad.”

Bucky brushed Sam off. “I’ll deal with him later, Sam.”

“You can’t keep putting this off, Barnes,” pleaded Sam. “The man’s going crazy that you keep slipping out and you won’t tell him where you’re going. We’re running out of ways to keep him distracted when you leave. Steve’s a smart guy, Buck, he’s gonna catch on. Or worse, he’s gonna follow you one day and then we’re all gonna be done for. Something tells me that he won’t be too happy when he finds out that we’ve been meeting with Stark behind his back.”

“We can’t do this without Stark, you know that," Clint replied. 

“I’m not arguing that, but Steve’s not himself. How do you think he’s gonna take it?”

“Well, we can’t exactly go and straight up tell him what we’ve been doing,” countered Clint. “He’d take off for Stark first chance he’d get, and who knows how many men HYDRA have waiting just for him to show his face back in Manhattan.”

“Well, are we just going to keep doing what we’re doing right now? Because it doesn’t seem to be working,” retorted Sam.

“It’s working,” argued Bucky. “Stark’s not his father. He cares.”

“Well it doesn’t seem that way,” snapped Sam. Clint bit his lip, looking between Sam and Bucky. Shit, we can't do this, Clint thought to himself. Figures that a rag-tag bunch of criminals couldn't muster together a sincere 'sorry we lied to you and treated you like shit' package for Stark. They all knew it wouldn't be easy, but with HYDRA still out there, they were desperate and frustrated - it was definitely showing now, as Sam, the most level-headed guy in their group is now heading straight for the jugular. 

“I said he wasn’t coming, I didn’t say he wasn’t helping.” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out some folded photographs. “You said Steve’s been here all week?”

Clint nodded. “He hasn’t really been leaving his room. When he does come out, its to check and make sure that everyone is still here." 

Bucky laid the photos out on the table. “Stark got these from CCTV footage from the city. Steve’s been meeting with Loki.”

Sam shrugged. “But we knew that. Steve met with Loki the first time you went to go see Stark. This isn’t exactly anything new.”

Bucky shook his head. “This footage is from two days ago. Steve met with Loki again.”

“Again?” Clint reached forward and snatched the photos, looking in disbelief at a very familiar blonde standing next to the Norwegian. “But we asked him about what happened with Loki; he said nothing was going to come of it!”

Bucky pursed his lips. “We haven’t been the only ones lying.”

“I don’t get it,” Sam said. “Why doesn’t he wasn’t us to know he’s meeting with Loki?”

“Because he knows how much we don’t trust the guy,” answered Bucky. “Because he’s actually considering something Loki has to offer.”

“What could Loki possibly have to offer Steve?”

“Steve’s desperate,” Clint responded. “I’m sure he’d take anything that would get him HYDRA.”

“We need to talk to Steve,” Sam sighed.

“We can’t,” Bucky disagreed. “We show him these photos and he’s gonna know immediately who we got them from.”

“Well we can’t just sit back and do nothing!” Sam shouted. “The reason he isn’t telling us is because he’s thinking about doing something stupid. We’ve been sitting on this too long; we need to act now.”

"What about Thor?" Bucky suggested. "Loki's his brother, maybe he can talk Steve out of this!" 

"Dude, Thor hasn't been here in days," Sam sighed, rubbing at his temples. "While you've been off playing negotiator, Clint and I tried the Thor angle. He knows Steve shouldn't trust his brother; Loki's been out off Asgard's favor for months now. But as soon as he tried to bring it up to Steve, shit went south fast. Good thing Clint was dumb enough to get between the two of them, or we might have been down another man. And honestly, not even sure who would have won. Regardless, Thor took off, pissed out of his mind, so we're back to square one." 

“Well, what do you suggest?” asked Clint. “Because Stark is our only ally left and he doesn’t seem to be much of a team player right now.”

“He is,” Bucky replied.

 Sam scoffed. “How do you know he'll be willing to play ball with us again? Since when are you and Stark all buddy-buddy?”

“Because that’s not all the photos he gave me,” Bucky said tersely. He pushed aside the photos of Steve and Loki. “Because Loki has been meeting with someone other than Steve.”

All three men leaned forward, looking at a blurry Loki talking with a hooded figure in an alley. Clint squinted, his eyes failing to try and get a face from the shadowed figure. “Stark get a face from this guy?”

Bucky shook his head again. “He doesn’t know who he is, but we’re willing to bet any money that Steve doesn’t know about Loki’s other rendezvous.”

“You think Loki is planning a double cross?”

“It’s Loki,” Bucky grit out. “Of course he’s scheming. Loki doesn’t hold allegiances with anyone. He’ll work for whoever can sign the biggest check or who can give him the most power.”

“We have to give this to Steve. He could be in danger,” Sam replied, already standing up.

“No,” Bucky countered. “We’re not going to be the ones to tell Steve. Stark is.”

Clint furrowed his brow. “But you just said he wasn’t coming.”

“Clint, the man has been monitoring us for weeks, mostly Steve. You should have seen him when he shoved the pictures in my face. Despite everything, Stark’s worried for Steve. I told him the only way Steve is going to find out about Loki’s double cross is if he tells the man himself.”

“You sly dog,” whispered Clint. “You’re forcing Stark out of his hole.”

“He needs the push,” argued Bucky. “He wants to help, he’s just letting himself get too conflicted. He’s terrified about what could happen to Steve, and I know he won’t be able to deal with the guilt if anything happened to him. He’ll come back.”

“Are you sure he'll go through with it? After everything you told us about their past, you're sure Stark will push through his daddy issues to get to Steve before Loki does? I'm all for getting Stark back on our side, but I don't know the man well enough to trust that he'll follow suit. I don't want to risk Steve on your gut feeling.”   

“I’m not saying that,” soothed Bucky. “We’re not gonna leave Steve to fend for himself; we can’t let him meet with Loki anymore. We don’t know what the bastard’s planning, so it’ll just be easier if we take precautions and just keep Steve away from him. All we gotta do is keep Steve occupied until Stark gets here; if the man isn’t here by the end of the week we’ll just go on without him.”

“You really think Stark’s gonna come?” Clint prodded.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I really think he will.”

Well isn’t this a complete turnaround, thought Clint. Bucky was never a fan of Stark; even when the other man had started to warm up to the rest of the crew, him and Bucky were always at each other’s throats. It was like watching Animal Planet, with the two of them constantly trying to prove their dominance to Steve.  But Clint could understand how Bucky could go through a minor reevaluation after his apparent enemy drags him from a burning building and becomes the main reason he’s still living.

Clint couldn’t find himself to disagree with the man either. If there was anyone who could crack through Steve’s brain when Bucky couldn’t, it’d be Stark. Getting Stark back on board probably came with the added bonus of Steve getting his head back on straight.

Bucky was right. Stark was their only hope. Clint could only pray that the man would come through.

“You eat yet?”

Steve clenched his jaw, not even bother turning around.

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky sighed. “Sam says he hasn’t seen you eat since yesterday.” He walked up to the other man, laying a sandwich down at the man’s elbow.

Steve still refused to answer, still staring at the papers in front of him. “Really, the silent treatment? What are you, seven?”

Steve shot him a glare, finally looking up at his friend. “Maybe I’m just surprised you’re actually here and are gracing me with your presence.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an ass. I just take walks, Steve. I’ve got to come to terms with my disability.”

Steve’s eyes shot to his stump. “It’s not a disability,” he hissed. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“Oh, should I say that I should be happy? That I’m lucky to be alive?”

“You are lucky! God, Bucky, what the hell is wrong with you? You telling me you’d rather be dead?!”

Bucky stormed to the other side of the room. “Well, it sounds a lot more interesting that living in this prison!” he shot back at Steve. “You need to cool your jets, Steve. Just because I don’t want to hole myself up in some room all damn day doesn’t give you the right to be pissed at me.”

“It’s not that, Buck! Maybe I’m just pissed that you leaving is giving HYDRA plenty of opportunities to finish the job! I almost lost you once, Bucky. I can’t take that risk again, on any of you.”

“So we’re just locked up here until the end of time? Steve, look at you. You’re falling apart. Let us help you.”

“How?” Steve snapped. “How can you help? You know where HYDRA is? You know how we can stop them?”

Bucky looked down. “Do you?”

Steve scoffed, walking over to Bucky. “At least I’m trying. I gotta do whatever I can to keep you guys safe.”

“Well what about you?!” countered Bucky. “Why is it always us, Steve? Who’s gonna keep you safe?!”

“Don’t worry about me,” Steve said gruffly.

“No,” Bucky snapped. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to sit back and yell at me for doing stupid shit when you’re doing the exact same thing! People keep looking at me for answers, Steve, but I don’t know what to tell them! I don’t know how to handle you because you were never like this last time. You want to know why? Because everyone was already dead. Now that we’re all still here and kicking, you’re worried that you can still fuck it up.”

Steve looked down at his hands. “I know this isn’t last time,” he whispered.

“Do you?” Bucky continued. “Because you’re walking around here like a ghost. This isn’t the SSR, Steve. You’re not alone anymore. You’ve still got your family here.”

“Then you know why I’m acting this way!” shouted Steve. “I can’t lose them! I can’t lose you!”

“You already are by sitting locked up in this room, Steve. Let us help. This is not different than any other job. We trust you, Steve, but you gotta trust us.”

“I do trust you,” sighed Steve. “It’s me I don’t trust. Look at all the shit I’ve caused already. I didn’t tell Tony who I was, I left you in that warehouse. How long before I make the wrong decision again?”

Bucky reached a hand out, placing it on Steve’s shoulder. “Then we’ll make it together. There are always other options, Steve.”

There are always other options.

There are always other options.

“Steve?” Bucky asked.

The man closed his eyes, before nodding slowly. “You’re right, Buck. There are always other options.”

Bucky smiled. “That’s right, Stevie,” he said, but Steve wasn’t listening.

“They want you to choose between Stark and your crew.”

There are always other options.

They don’t want the crew or Tony. That’s not their endgame.

They only want one thing.

Me.

All they want is me.

“We gotta do everything to keep our family safe, right?” asked Steve.

“You got it, kid. We can think of a way to do it together.”

Steve gave the man a small smile. “Don’t worry, Buck. You already helped in more ways than you know.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, and Steve could already see the questions forming in his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain later. Go get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning, punk.”

“You sure?”

Steve rolled his eyes, trying to play himself off as carefree. “Yes. Now go on, get your beauty rest.” Bucky patted him on the shoulder before walking out, finally leaving Steve alone.

Steve sighed, sitting back down in his chair and began to wait until everyone would fall asleep. Then he would make his move. Then he’d finally save his family.

Chapter Text

We need to talk.

Bucky stared down at his phone, still leaning against Steve’s door. Who knew how long he'd been since trying to reason with his friend. Although Steve had promised to get some sleep, Bucky found himself perched on guard in front of his door, protecting Steve from any threats. Protecting Steve from himself. He was halfway through a response to Stark when his phone chimed again.

Now.

Bucky frowned. Stark was never the one to initiate their meetings. It was usually just Bucky showing up, desperately trying to bring the other man back with him. If Stark was the one reaching out to him, it probably wasn’t good.

He slunk away from the door, footsteps quiet in their temporary home. Bucky rounded the corner, reaching for the door when he was stopped by Clint.

“Where you off to?”

Bucky showed Clint the messages. “I need you to watch Steve for a bit. Hopefully I won’t be gone long.”

Clint frowned as he stared into the phone. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Bucky agreed. “Make sure Steve doesn’t leave,” he continued, pushing the door open and walking outside.

He heard Clint utter a “yes, Mother,” but Bucky didn’t turn back. His shoes trumped through the snow as the harsh New York wind nipped at his neck. Bucky could only hope that Steve didn’t look out the window to see the tracks he left through the snow. It was already tense enough between the two of them; the last thing Bucky needed as Steve tearing him a new one yet again because he left the building. Hell, it was frustrating enough he couldn’t call Steve out for doing the same thing.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to run back inside, grab his friend by the shoulders and try to shake some sense into him. But he couldn’t. Telling Steve that they all knew about his secret meetings with Loki would only lead to bad news. They had the upper hand; they could keep Steve safe as well as keeping Steve from feeling betrayed that he was meeting with Stark.

Did he feel bad? Of course. Nothing stings worse than having to go behind the back of your brother. It hurts almost as much as knowing that Steve was doing the same thing. But, of course, Bucky had to keep reminding himself that they weren’t good people. They weren’t the ones people rooted for; they definitely weren’t heroes.

This was the only life they knew, secrets and lies their only comforts. That’s why complete trust was hard to come by. Each of The Commandos had had a lifetime of constantly watching their backs because they half expected their coworkers to stab them in the back. You couldn’t get mad at the guy next to you for lying when you were doing the same thing; because of it, however, trust was never an option. It wasn’t until The Commandos were formed that Bucky found how wrong he was.

He still couldn’t figure out how Steve did it; how he brought them all together. They were all so different, so broken. Maybe it was because Steve never tried to fix them, never tried to pretend that the problems weren’t there. Steve was never like that. He just accepted it. He showed them that it was okay to be broken; that they could be broken together. Sure there were still lies and secrets, but Bucky knew they were for different reasons now. No one was looking out for their own back; it was always to keep the others safe, always to protect them.    

The drive to Stark’s was agony. Bucky’s head pounded as he tried to think of his best move. He knew, of course, how bad of a person he was. How bad they all were. Steve was always their moral compass, always being the lighthouse to show them the small slivers of humanity they had left. But now? Now they were all so far off the reservation that there was no way to tell between right and wrong. Who was he kidding? There was no right anymore. There were only bad choices left now.

Bucky rubbed a freezing hand over his face as he stomped into the building and up the elevator. It wasn’t long before he found himself parked once again in front of Stark’s door.

“What, did you stop for drive thru? Where the hell have you been?!” The door was barely open before Bucky was dragged inside by a frazzled Stark.

Bucky pushed the man’s hands away. “I came as fast as I could. It’s not easy sneaking out, not with Steve starting to ask questions.”

“We can deal with that later. Right now, we need to- ”

“No,” Bucky disagreed. “I don’t think we can put it off any longer. He’s getting worse, Stark. I mean, I just had a conversation with him, but the man that I talked with was not Steve. He’s gonna do something dumb. Like, Loki dumb. Now look, the boys and I were talking. I know we should tell Steve about Loki, but I’m not. I want you too. I want you to come back and tell Steve about Loki, because we haven’t yet. I know it’s a shitty move and you can hate me later, but we need you, Stark. The others… the others don’t believe that you’ll come back. Not after everything that's happened. I know you would’ve, eventually, but we just don't have that kind of time anymore. We just… we’re desperate. And desperate people will do the worst of things if it means protecting your family.”

Bucky broke off, sucking in a deep breath. Lord, help me. “But I also know that I can’t make you do that. I can’t do that to you; I can’t use Steve against you. I won’t. If you won’t tell Steve, I swear to you that I’ll go back and tell him myself. You won’t have to get involved, hell, you don’t have to see me or any one of us ever again. So I’ll let you decide. It’s your choice.”

Bucky could see the emotions flash across the other man’s face as he waited for the outburst. Hell, Stark might even just kill him right there. But he wasn’t going to lie to Stark. The man’s been through enough shit already; the least Bucky could do is offer something that Stark had probably never had before: a choice.

But Stark just nodded. “Okay.”

Bucky startled. “What?”

“You’re right, you need me. Let’s go.”

Bucky reached out and grabbed his arm. “I’m sorry, did you just miss what I just said? My friends I were planning to coerce you into coming back to work with us.”

Stark shrugged. “If you need to tell them that you needed to blackmail me into coming back, that’s fine. I don’t care.”

Bucky forced the other man to meet his eyes. “Why the hell would you help us,” he whispered. “You’ve got every right to run off into the sunset after all the crap we’ve put you through.”

Stark let out a small sigh. “It’s not like I’ve put you through the same hell. You just didn’t realize it. I used your crew to get to HYDRA; I didn’t really care who made it out or not. I just wanted them gone; you guys were dispensable to me. But…things got complicated. You lost your arm, half your mob just up and left, Steve’s crazy. Part of that’s on me. Gotta clear the conscience somehow.”

“This is on all of us, not just you.”

God, this was such a mess. How the hell could one single bomb be the ruin of them all? With all of them plagued with their own guilt, there was no way they stood a chance against HYDRA. The more he thought about it, maybe it just wasn't worth it. Maybe Bucky should just convince everyone to cut and make a run for it. Was there even a point to keep fighting? 

Stark nodded, pulling out of his grip. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. Regardless of everyone sabotaging each other, Steve was still right. We do have a common goal; we can work together. Except this time, it’s not about HYDRA. It’s about saving The Captain.”

Bucky sighed, his remaining hand rubbing absently at his left shoulder. “He’s in deep shit, isn’t he?”

Stark shot him a grave look. “That’s why I needed you to meet with you. JARVIS got me a different angle on who Loki was meeting.”

“That bad?”

“Very bad. Very very bad.”

He frowned, reaching for the picture that Stark was handing him.

Bucky froze.

“That’s not possible,” he whispered, staring down at the photo in disbelief.

“This is camera footage,” Stark said in a soothing tone. “I had JARVIS run every test on it; it hasn’t been tampered with.”

Bucky shook his head. “But…but Steve said.”

“I know what he said. But this,” Tony said, pointing back at the picture. “This makes him wrong. And this makes him very much in danger. Come on, we’re leaving.”

Bucky nodded, already heading to the door. He pulled his out of his jacket, phoning Clint. “What’s up?”

“Where’s Steve?”

“He hasn’t come out yet. The man’s probably still sleeping.”

“Go check.”

“Buck, what’s wrong?”

“Just go check.”

“Alright, Jesus.”

Bucky heard Clint open the door, listening as the man sucked in a breath.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“He’s gone.”

“What do you mean, he’s gone?”

“I mean he’s gone, as in, he’s not here!”

“Goddammit, Clint!”

“Don’t get snappy at me, I’ve been outside the door this whole damn time! He must’ve slipped through the window!”

“Fuck!” Bucky shouted, throwing his phone against the wall in anger.

Steve was gone.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?”

Bucky whirled around, looking at a pale Stark. “Can you track his phone?”

The other man nodded, already dashing back to his computer. “As long as it’s still on, we should be in business.”

“We better pray that it is. Because if you can’t track Steve, then he’s a dead man.”

HYDRA is looking to bring in weapons from Brooklyn to Manhattan. Quickest way to do so is over the river. You’ll find your answers out there.

Steve stared down at his phone, rechecking what Loki had sent him.

It had been a little harder sneaking out this time, what with Bucky and the rest of his crew hovering over his shoulder. He could only hope that they could forgive him one day. Keeping this from them nearly killed him, but if he had let this opportunity pass, then it would have actually killed them. If there was one thing Steve knew he could still do, it was protect his family one last time.

Loki, of course, thought he was a mad man for offering up himself, but Steve paid him no mind. A few idle threats and Loki was texting him the best possible location for where he could find the current head of HYDRA. It was disconcerting how much the man knew, but Steve knew Loki’s business was information. This would be the best chance he had to finally ending this. Steve sucked in another breath and continued through the sand.

For years, the East River has served as a mode for transportation, regardless of the season. In the summer, boats flooded through, offering multiple options for transport. The cold winters on New York could always create ice bridges for people to cross. For a while, it even served as a highway for smuggling in booze during the prohibition era. Now, it only made sense that HYDRA would be using the same route, most likely using it to smuggle in weapons. No way anyone would run into cops out on a body of water.

Steve trudged further along the bank, pulling his coat farther up against his neck. He scanned the shore line and out into the frozen waters, looking for any movement.

There was. Out, towards the middle of the river, stood a single man. Warning bells shot up in Steve’s mind, but he ignored them as he carefully stepped onto the ice. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered until his family was safe.

Steve couldn’t tell if the man had seen him or not; the figure remained in one place as Steve walked carefully out to him. Each step was painstakingly slow; the ice made no protest, but Steve wasn’t taking any chances.

The man looked unarmed, but that didn’t mean anything in Steve’s book. It looked as if blood matted his face, his stance threatening and stoic. It wasn’t until Steve got closer until he realized it wasn’t blood at all. It was a mask.

No. No, it can’t be.

“You,” Steve whispered, eyes widening as he closed the rest of the gap between them.

The mask of the Red Skull stared right on back, the connecting head tilting to the side slightly.

Steve’s hand trembled as he pointed at the other man. “How…,” he faltered, shaking his head. “You’re not here. You’re not real. I killed you.”

The rough voice that answered him sent chills down his spine. Just like it used to. “Did you?”

“Yes,” Steve hissed. “You’re not really here.”

“Are you sure?” The skull chuckled. “You can’t even trust your own head anymore; you’ve gone too far off the rails. Am I real? Or am I the thing that plagues your head every night? Or am I both?”

Steve’s heart pounded, blood rushing through his veins. This wasn’t right. Skull was dead; Schmidt was dead. He’d seen it with his own eyes. Right? Was there anyone else that could have brought HYDRA back from the grave? Who better to do it than a man who was also supposed to be dead?

“Come now, Captain. We have business to discuss.”

“What do you want? You already have me.” snapped Steve.

“How naive of you,” murmured The Skull. “Surely by now you would have figured out that why you’ve survived as long as you have.”

“You need what I know,” answered Steve. “You need the SSR’s secrets.”

“Yes,” The Skull sneered. “All those little secrets, locked inside that head of yours. Or so everyone thought.”

Steve furrowed his brows. “What are you on about? Stop stalling. You want to do business? Fine. You call your men off of my family, and I will go with you and tell you anything you want to know. Simple as that. As long as you stay away from my crew I will keep feeding you information.”

“Simple as that, you say,” Skull snorted. “I’m sorry, but no deal.”

“No deal? You said yourself you need those secrets, and I’m giving you me! What more could you want?”

“I do need those secrets, but now I know that I don’t need you,” The Skull responded, edging closer to Steve. “The SSR had been around since World War II. That’s a lot of information to have collected over the years, don’t you think? And you remember it all?”

Steve clenched his jaw. “I’ve got a good memory.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Steven Rogers. Because it is a lie, isn’t it? You don’t know any of their secrets. You just know where to find them.” When Steve didn’t answer, The Skull continued. “I’m right, aren’t I? They’re not inside your head; they’re in a bunch of file cabinets. And the SSR chose you to be the keeper, didn’t they?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve answered back fiercely. “Only I know where the files are. Any physical copies of the locations were destroyed in the fire you made. Doesn’t matter which way you spin it, you still need me.”

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” mocked The Skull. “You waltzing up here like you still have all the power? I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you don’t; you never have. Even while you’ve been running amuck in this city with your hounds, I’ve been here. Even when you’ve cut new deals and made new allies, I’ve been here. Waiting, waiting for the right moment to strike.”

“You need better monologues.”

“And you need better friends,” retorted The Skull. “A little birdie told you that you could find me here? Well, the little birdie told me the same thing.”

Steve’s cold ran cold. “Loki?”

The Skull chuckled, the sinister laugh echoing around his mask. “How do you think he knew so much? How do you think I knew so much? Oh, you didn’t trust him, did you? But you did! And you told him the location of the files, just in case your crew needed to catch up. Trying to cover all of our bases, were we? Well, guess what? He told me too.”

No no no no no. Loki was on his side. Loki needed HYDRA gone as much as he did. He told Steve, he promised Steve. Betrayal coursed through Steve’s body. He should’ve known better; he did know better. Everyone tried to stop him, but did he listen? No. He’d failed again.

“Did you really think Loki was on your side?” Skull chuckled, pulling out a gun. “That he would keep your secrets? The game is over, Captain.”

“Fine,” Steve whispered in defeat. “Kill me, take the files, I don’t care. Just spare my crew.”

The Red Skull sighed. “You really aren’t in the position to be making demands, are you?”

“Please." It slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. A final plea from a broken man. He had nothing else to say, nothing else to give, but he couldn't not try anyway. They were everything to him. He wasn't afraid of dying - he was only afraid of dying knowing that others would follow. 

The Skull laughed again, aiming his gun at Steve. “Pathetic,” he sneered. “No. I won’t spare your crew, I won’t spare Mr. Stark. I won’t spare anyone who has ever muttered your name or seen your face. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure to tell each and every one of them that it was your fault, so when they take their last breaths, they’ll know you failed them.”

“They’ll stop you,” Steve uttered. “They’re stronger than you, stronger than me. I have faith.”

The Skull cocked his gun. “Faith isn’t going to save you.”

Steve shut his eyes, waiting. The sound of the gun firing pierced his ears, splitting right through the wind. Steve’s body automatically flinched, the man waiting for the void to take him.

But it didn’t come.

Steve’s eyes snapped open, looking back at The Skull and the muzzle of the gun, which was aimed at him feet.

He heard it before he saw it. The cracking of ice.

By the time Steve’s gaze fell to his feet, a whole network of spider web cracks had emanated from the bullet hold, the ice lurching and groaning under the stress of Steve’s weight. Steve tried to move back, but the fast shift caused the ice to split right down the middle, the blonde forcing himself to freeze before he caused any more disruptions.

He could hear The Skull saying something to him, but he could hear nothing over the roaring of his own ears as he watched the other man aim up another shot.

There needs to be a way out. There’s always a way out.

Nothing answered Steve but the harsh wind. There was no way out.

This is it.

“Goodbye, Captain.”

Another shot rang out.

The last thing Steve heard was a scream of his name before the ice gave way completely, the frozen water of the East River swallowing him, dragging him into the depths.  

Chapter Text

“He’s where?”

“Did I stutter?” Tony snapped. “He’s in the East River!”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Barnes said, even as the car jolted forward with increase speed, the driver changing lanes to adjust to their new course. “What the hell could he be doing there?”

“Something stupid, that’s what.”

Tony lurched as Barnes took another sharp turn. Why he decided that it was alright for a one armed man to drive was beyond him. “Am I going the right way?”

“Yeah,” Tony responded, looking back down at his phone. “JARVIS has his location locked in, so unless Steve decided to throw this phone into the river, then Steve will definitely be there.”

“Since when is he ‘Steve’ again?”

Tony glared at the other man. “Really? You’re gonna do this now?”

“Just trying to make conversation,” Barnes replied, a small smirk adorning his face.

“I liked it better when you hated me.”

Barnes laughed before pressing down farther on the gas pedal. “Turn off here. He should be straight ahead!”

Barnes obliged, quickly stopping the car along a beachfront lot. The two men scurried out, their eyes already looking out at the river. Tony looked down at the ice with concern. “You think he’s out there?”

Barnes surveyed the frozen wasteland. “There!” he shouted, pointing in the distance. Sure enough, Steve’s familiar figure stood out against the white ice, standing with who Tony assumed to be The Red Skull.

The two took off towards the other pair. Until a shot rang out. Tony stumbled, heart seizing, while Barnes roared. They skid to a halt, waiting to see which figure fell. But nothing happened. Tony was about to open his mouth when another shot sounded, the two men watched in horror as Steve went down.

“Steve!” The two men cried out in unison as they watched The Captain fall to the depths of the river. They took off immediately, keeping their feet light as they dashed across the dangerous ice.

The Red Skull snapped his head towards the two, quickly taking off in the other direction. Without a moment of hesitation, Tony pulled out his hand gun, firing at the retreating man, but to no avail. Tony wanted nothing more than to chase after the man and pump all his rounds into him, but Steve was the priority. The pair raced up to the now gaping hole in the river, the ice floating almost innocently atop the deep abyss.

“What the hell are you doing?” asked Tony, turning to watch Barnes strip off his winter coat.

“Steve never learned how to swim.”

Tony’s heart lurched as his eyes snapped down at the dark water below them. Oh God, Steve. Tony heard Barnes struggling to take off his shoes, so he spun back around to the other man, trying to stop him. “Barnes, you’ve got one arm! How are you going to drag him back up? Stay here; I’ll go.”

Barnes snatched his arm. “You can’t go in there! It’s too dangerous.”

“Does it look like I care?” Tony hissed, eyes darting back down to the black hole that had engulfed The Captain. They were wasting precious time that they already didn't have. 

“Well, I do,” Barnes snapped back, throwing his jacket at Tony. “Steve isn’t the only one who can’t swim.” And with that, the other man jumped into the water. Tony blinked in shock, unable to come up with a retort as the other brunette leapt in. It was agonizing, watching him slip below the water, disappearing from sight instantly. Some of the water from Barnes’ wave slashed onto Tony’s bare skin; the man shuddered, the freezing droplets turning his veins to ice. Steve was in that.

Tony groaned as he began to pace. This was all his fault. Barnes had tried, begged, that he come back. That they needed them. That Steve needed them. And Tony had ignored him. He had refused to take the bait, unable to work himself up to take that final step again. He had been terrified, haunted even, by the idea of what other secrets they were keeping from him, and what else they could use against him. So he had pushed them all away, like the rest of his problems. And now, Steve was paying the price for it.

Tony looked back at the water again. Where the hell was Barnes? Shouldn’t he have found Steve by now? If Steve couldn’t swim, God only knows how long he could hold his breath. What if there was a current? What if hypothermia kicked in?

Tony was about five seconds from jumping in himself when Barnes broke the surface again, chest heaving as he gulped down huge gasps of air. Before Tony could ask him anything, the man disappeared again, only to push Steve’s limp body above him. Tony reached out instantly, pulling The Captain up onto solid ground. He placed Steve under him, a shaking hand pressing against the blonde’s clammy neck. If Barnes heard the ghastly sob that left Tony’s throat when he was met with a weak pulse, he didn’t comment.

Tony spun around quickly after accepting that Steve was still alright, and reached back down to help heft Barnes out of the water. The man was almost as pale as Steve, his breath coming in harsh pants. How he was able to drag over two hundred pounds of a wet Steve with one arm, Tony would never know. Tony threw the man’s jacket back around his shoulders, checking he was okay. The man was shaking with violent tremors, but he grunted out a short confirmation before shooing Tony back towards Rogers. 

Tony ripped off his own jacket, placing it over the mob boss. “Steve?” he tried. “Steve? Can you hear me?”

“Don’t bother, he's out,” Barnes grit out. “We need to get him dry. Now.”

Tony nodded, pulling Barnes to his feet. “You alright to do this?”

“Of course. Come on, grab his other arm.” Both Tony and Barnes reached down, grabbing Steve by each of his arms.

Dragging Steve back to the car was painstakingly slow, what with Steve’s weight and Barnes' own stumbling. When they finally reached the vehicle, they laid Steve in the back, Tony tucking his jacket over him again before crawling in behind him.

“Get us to your people. Bruce will know what to do.” The car lurched as Barnes threw the car into drive, the three men finally leaving the frozen river behind.

Tony leaned back towards Steve, patting the cold cheek gently. “Steve? Come on, Steve, up and at ‘em.” When the blonde refused to answer, Tony got more frantic. He pressed his body against the sleeping man, praying that his body heat was enough to keep Steve breathing.

The car door was ripped open. “What the hell happened?” Tony snapped his head up to be met with the face of Clint Barton. Tony had been so distraught over Steve that he hadn’t even realized that they’d reached The Commandos current hideout.

“They’ve both been in the river,” answered Tony, not missing a step. “Get them to Bruce.” Tony was surprised when Barton just nodded, stepping back as a plethora of hands finally pulled Steve away from him and into the old building, Barton himself going around to the front to help Barnes out of the car. Tony followed them in, not wanting any distance between him and Steve.

Tony sighed in relief as Bruce burst through the door, already snapping orders at the men. He watched as both Barnes and Steve were torn away from their sopping wet clothes, towels already running over their damp skin. Wilson was laying out thick blankets while Bruce knelt over Steve, checking the man for other injuries. Tony stepped forward, wanting to help, needing to help, when an arm reached out and pulled him back.

“Bruce will take care of them now,” Barton’s voice filled his ears. “Follow me.”

Numbly, Tony found himself following the other man, not without a final glance towards a still silent Steve. Barton led him to a smaller room, towards the back, and for a hot second, Tony thought Barton was bringing him back here to kill him. That was, until clothes were thrust into his hands.

“Here,” the man said quietly.

Tony stared down at them until realization hit. “Oh, of course. I’ll bring these back for Steve, and- ”

“Relax, Stark. Bruce can take care of them. These are for you.”

Tony stared at the other man quizzically until he finally glanced down at his clothes. Turns out cuddling a freezing mob boss in the backseat of a car can leave some lasting damage on clothes. “I’ll be fine,” Tony replied. “I’m not that wet.”

Barton rolled his eyes. “Humor me.”

“I’m really fine, Barton,” Tony continued to argue, even as he stripped to put on the new clothes. “After all, I didn’t take an unscheduled bath in the river today.”

“You’re shaking.”

Damn his sniper eyes.

Tony frowned, looking down at his hands. They were shaking. “Maybe that’s not from the cold,” he found himself whispering.

A warm hand fell onto his shoulder. Tony barely managed to meet Barton’s gaze. “You saved him. You saved Steve.”

Tony shrugged. “Last time I checked, Barnes was the one who jumped in after him.”

“And you pulled him from a burning building. That means you saved them both in my book.”

“Well you’ve got a really strange way of showing gratitude, buddy,” Tony drawled.

Barton was silent for a long moment, the arched tearing his eyes away from Tony. “I understand, you know. Why you can’t trust us. Hell, I never thought I could ever trust anyone like I do with them. Growing up in the circus, there was no trust. You were always on your own. I was only eight when I started sleeping with a dagger under my pillow because I didn’t want people to come and steal my things.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “What is this?”

“I’m just saying that I get that we’re asking a lot from a guy who’s been through a lot of shit.”

“I’m still not following,” Tony answered. “Is this the part where you kill me?”

Barton sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “This is why Nat should have taken care of this. I’m saying I was wrong, dickhead. That we were wrong. About you.”

Tony cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t think I’d come back?”

Barton shrugged. “None of us did, besides Bucky. You didn’t trust us, we didn’t trust you. Our life has taught us nothing but to see the worst in people.”

Tony bit his lip. “Do you trust me now?”

“No,” Barton responded. “But I’m willing to learn how.”

Tony knew a peace offering when he saw one. He reached his hand out, sighing in relief when Barton met him halfway for a firm handshake. “But why? Bucky said you all just wanted to use me to get Steve back. Steve’s here now; why do you still need me?”

Barton shook his head, frowning slightly. “You ever read Peter Pan?”

Tony stared at the man, confused at the topic change. “I’m familiar with it, yes.”

“It was my favorite story when I was growing up.”

“Is this really the time to be talking about a flying kid?”

“I don’t want to talk about him. I wanna talk about Wendy.”

Tony shot him a curious gaze. “Wendy?”

Barton nodded. “You see,” he started. “None of the Lost Boys liked it when Wendy showed up. In some of the older stories, they actually shot Wendy out of the sky when she went flying into Neverland. They were so afraid that Wendy would take Peter away. That they’d wake up one morning and they’d be alone again.”

“I get it, Wendy wasn’t popular,” Tony grit out. 

“It wasn’t until she decided to leave that they realized that they didn't want her to go. That it wasn’t just Peter they needed.”

Tony scowled at the man. “You need me to be your mother?”

“I need you to be here. You kept Steve safe, kept my family safe, while the rest of us tried to throw you out like yesterday’s trash. You stood by our side, through everything. Lord knows why; I know I sure as hell wouldn’t have. Just shows that you’re the best one of us here; it shows what Steve saw in you. I don’t know why it took so long for me to see that.”

Tony bit his lip, feeling a small flush form against his cheeks. It felt wonderful on his frigid skin. He definitely wasn't planning for this type of reunion of The Commandos, if any type at all, but any scenario that he predicted in his head never ended up being welcomed back with open arms. Could Barton really mean it? He was correct that the lack of trust was detrimental to them all - they'd been so bust trying to stay on opposite sides, they didn't realize that they needed each other to keep the other from drowning. Turns out literally, Tony thought with another shudder. 

Barton was making amends, assuming Tony was here to stick around. Was he? When he jumped in the car with Barnes to go and save Steve - there was no hesitation. It was if all of their problems had evaporated, and his brain couldn't focus on anything besides Steve and danger. Was this was what it was like, to be part of a group like this? Did Tony want this? Steve would probably pull through, and now that all the dust had settled, was it time for him to go back to square one and head home alone, or should he stay? 

There was no way to say which would be the best route. Sure, the original partnership he had with The Captain and The Commandos had been devastating, almost lethal. But Barnes was right; he wasn't making any progress on his own, and he was miserable. Rogers and his ragtag group of criminals were a constant in his head. They frustrated him, even infuriated him to no end, but they were still there. Stubbornly staying in the forefront in his mind, like an itch he couldn't scratch. After today, he was starting to think that maybe they couldn't move past him either. 

So, who knows what the hell he was supposed to do. He's almost sure what he wants to do, so that will have to do for now. He always did have a shit preservation instinct anyway. 

Tony smirked, eyeing a clearly nervous Barton. “And you’re supposed to have the best eyes around here. That’s embarrassing.”

Barton barked out a laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m just some kid from Iowa. Definitely not the brightest bulb there is.”

“I guess I’ll forgive you,” chuckled Tony.

“Have you?” Barton asked in a serious tone.

“No,” Tony answered. “But I’m willing to learn how.”

Barton grinned, clapping Tony on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit,” he smiled. “Now, go check on your boy,” he said, pushing Tony back through the door. Walking back towards the front of the building, Tony felt a weight lift from his chest. I guess I just made my decision. No going back now. 

By the time he returned to Steve’s room, Bruce and the others had cleared out, leaving only a scowling Barnes on the floor next to his friend. Of course, wrapped up in blankets like a burrito made Barnes look more like a sad, wet puppy than a pissed gangster. Since Barnes didn’t respond when he entered the room, Tony broke the silence.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm?” Bucky looked up from where he was sitting with Steve.

“How did you know I can’t swim?”

Barnes snorted softly. “You ramble when you’re nervous.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You don’t shut up. I’ve been going into your office every day. And every day you sit there, looking like you’re just waiting for me to kill you. I make you nervous. So you prattle on and on about God knows what. You not knowing how to swim slipped out. You said something about how Howard never bothered to have you learn, that he thought it was a waste of time. Said that it was just simple buoyancy and momentum; that if you couldn’t figure it out if you were stuck in water, then you deserved to drown.”

This time it was Tony who snorted. “That was Howard, for you.” He turned to look at the other man. “You remembered that?”

Barnes shrugged.

For the first time in a very long time, Tony found himself smiling. “Thank you.”

Barnes groaned softly as he forced himself up, walking towards the door, blankets trailing along the floor with each step. “No,” he retorted. “Thank you.”

Tony watched as the other brunette slipped away, the door closing gently behind him. Finally alone, Tony turned his attention back towards Steve. He was still very pale, almost fragile looking huddled in the blankets. Tony could almost see the faint resemblance of that small broken boy that he’d seen in the photos from The Captain’s old office. He looked young like this. Without his eyes open, there was no way to see the weariness and heartbreak he carries in his stormy orbs.

Hesitantly, Tony laid a hand on Steve’s forehead, happy to find some warmth finally reach back at him. Without thinking, he slowly pushed his hand farther back, pushing through the barely damp stands of Steve’s soft hair. He sighed, before leaning against the wall, letting gravity do the rest as he slipped down to the floor, making sure his hand still rest in Steve’s hair. After staring for long moments at the steady rise and fall of Steve’s chest, Tony finally felt his eyes slip shut.

Chapter Text

It was warm.

No, not that kind of warm. Not the kind where he had to roll up his sleeves to stay cool in a sweltering summer. Not the kind where his legs always stuck to the backs of leather seats. Not where he tasted the salt from his brow, or felt the dampness of his clothes.

No.

It was a different warmth.

Like when he felt the sun trickling in through his blinds in the morning. It was that first sip of tea pushed gently to him by careful hands, the soothing liquid gliding easily down his throat. It was a soft Russian lullaby, keeping his nightmares at bay. It was a pair of comforting hands on his shoulders; whispers reaching his ears, one offering guidance, the other cracking jokes. It was a laugh, so merry and contagious, that it put Santa Claus to shame. It was a constant presence to his left; a strong force to hold him up whenever he felt like crumbling. It was a soft smile and bright, crinkled eyes, white teeth flashing brightly against a computer’s glow.

Maybe this was what death felt like.

He had been so cold; it was as if the ice was in his veins. It was all encompassing, like Death’s stony hand had been the one to catch his fall instead of the frigid waters. He didn’t remember screaming; the shock had been too much, his reaction time freezing like the rest of his extremities. But it had been anything but quick. The cold was misleading; nothing more than a spider trapping him instantly in its web, only to play with him before finishing the job. It seeped into him; first the skin, then the bones, finally to the soul. It taunted him, laughing as it took everything from him as he lay paralyzed. There was no white light, there was no fade to black. No virgins came to take him away, no man stood waiting for him at a pearly gate. There was just the cold. Nothing but the cold.

But it was gone now, almost as if it was never there to begin with. But he knew it was still in there. Somewhere, hiding behind the current warm glow. The cold had claimed him. Who knows how much of himself he’d gotten back. Who knows how long it’ll be before the cold comes to take him back again. He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t. The frozen depths the hell he never knew existed; the calm, dark waters an endless pit of despair, as the silence drove him insane. He jolted, trying to latch on to the warmth, the comfort, praying, willing, for it not to go away. It was coming for him again. The cold. It was reaching out, its grip tight around his throat, and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t-

“Shhhhh.”

He froze.

The sound echoed again. A small whisper of a breeze.

“It’s alright,” it lulled. “You’re safe, now.”

He turned, drawn like a cat to the sun, stretching to get closer to the soothing tones.  A hand pushed through his hair, fingers tracing his head almost as gently as the voice had. “Relax, Capsicle.” Warm breath puffed into his neck. “Take a breather; we’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He sighed, feeling his body going limp. The tension was gone, the ice retreating from his veins. He drifted, finally floating instead of sinking. He wasn’t cold. 

He was warm.

Steve woke to the sound of rustling. His body was pushed slightly from side to side as a hand tucked a blanket tight around his chest. He groaned; well, at least he tried too. The wheeze that broke from his throat sounding more like a rusty car engine trying to start.

“Steve? You with me, pal?”

Bucky.

Steve cracked his eyes open, grateful when he was met with a muted light instead of a blinding one. His vision was soon blocked off by his friend, Steve blinking rapidly until the concerned face drew into focus.

“You look like shit,” Steve ground out, breaking off into a few pathetic coughs.

Bucky laughed softly, reaching for a glass of water. “Well, it’s a good thing you haven’t seen yourself, Princess.” The brunette leaned back towards Steve, gripping the back of his neck gently as he guided Steve’s mouth to the cup.

Water poured down his throat, Steve’s eyes snapping wide open. He sputtered yanking himself away, and it was too cold, too cold, too cold-

“Hey, hey, hey! Calm down; I’ve got you, Stevie.” Bucky’s arms were around him, holding him through his tremors. Steve sucked in quick breaths, hoping the air would quell the freezing burn in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his hands gripping Bucky so tight that he was sure he’d leave bruises.

“It’s alright,” Bucky responded, letting his body be squished, even leaning closer. “Probably shouldn’t have led with the water, hmm?” Steve didn’t respond, just opting to press closer to his friend. “You should probably lie back down; Bruce says you're going to have quite a fever to deal with.”

Steve let Bucky push him back down onto the bed. “What happened?” he asked.

Bucky frowned, looking away. “You fell. Through the ice.”

Steve shuddered. “I know. There was… it was cold. But how am I here?” Steve broke off, looking back at his friend. Bucky was pale, his dark hair looking more black against the pastiness of his skin. He was in a sweatshirt, one of Steve’s, with a blanket thrown across his own back. Oh God. Steve’s heart clenched as he put two and two together.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Bucky through his hand up, effectively stopping him. “I’m gonna stop you right there. Because that lecture that’s on the tip of your tongue right now? I don’t wanna hear it.”

Steve’s lips curled into a frown. “Bucky, you could have gotten yourself killed. You’ve already lost an arm on my account; I can’t have you losing your life over- ”

“I can’t believe you,” Bucky hissed. “I mean, who am I kidding? I should’ve known those would have been the first words out of your goddamn mouth. That’s so classic you!” Bucky broke off with a huff as he began to pace around the room. “Because you’re right. You’re so right. It was such a better option for me to let your drown.”

“Buck, I didn’t mean- ”

“But you did! And here’s what I don’t get. I don’t understand why you get to sit there and yell at me, when I know you would've done the exact same thing. Are you telling me that if you were there as our home burned to the ground, you would’ve took off running? That you would’ve ran to safety and left me to die?”

Steve sighed. “Bucky, you know what I’ve done to you all this past month. I wasn’t worth- ”

“Don’t you dare finish that fucking sentence. You need to listen good and hard, Steve. I lose another arm? Fine. I go blind or lose my voice? Who cares? I lose all my memories? Who needs them? I’ll lose them, Steve, and I won’t even blink an eye. Because I don’t need ‘em. Because there is only one thing on this planet that I absolutely cannot lose, and that’s you.”

“Buck,” Steve’s voice wobbled.

“Is this what it felt like?” Bucky continued, not even hearing him. “When you saw me after the fire? Because I can’t- ” Bucky sighed, voice breaking off with a croak. “I tried, Stevie. I tried so damn hard. I tried to help, I did, but it wasn’t enough. I’ve never been enough. Not when your Ma died, not when you lost Peggy, not with any of them. But this time, I really thought I could. I thought I knew what I was doing; I thought I could fix all the things I’d broken, and I…. I couldn’t.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Bucky looked back over at him, his eyes wild and red rimmed. “Wanna know why we were there when the bombs went off? Because I wouldn’t let us leave. Wanna know why Stark knows your name? Because I called out for you. Wanna know why you almost drowned? Because I let you. I let it happen. I could’ve stopped you, but I was just trying so damn hard. Trying so hard to fix things that I couldn’t see I was breaking them even more.”

“No, Buck,” Steve moaned. “You can’t do this to yourself; I won’t let you.”

But Bucky was already shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Steve. I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Bucky, listen to me. There is- ”

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, no doubt trying to regulate his heart rate. “Don’t defend me, Steve. God, what am I doing? You’re still recovering. I’ll go get Bruce, and- ”

“Bucky, wait!”

But the other man was already gone, slipping quickly through the open door.

Steve flopped his head on the pillows. What have I done?

Steve knew he had been falling apart the last month, but not once had he stopped to take a look at what he was doing to his own crew. Bucky was his rock, his foundation. He never faltered; always there to pick Steve back up after he lost his footing.

But now? Steve had broken him. He could see it in Bucky’s eyes.  No doubt the rest of the crew had that same haunted look about them.

Bucky was right. He had tried. They all had. Steve was on a slippery slope, and they all tried to pull him back to safety. But did he listen? Of course not. He thought that he was helping, that he was protecting them. And look what happened to him. Look what happened to them. If Bucky had looked that haunted, there was no doubt in his mind that the rest of his family was carrying the same weight. 

This was all his fault.

“Well, that was dramatic.”

Steve’s head whipped to the door, mouth gaping open as he saw Tony Stark leaning casually against the door frame. At first glance, he looked eons better than the last time they interacted. The red, irritated skin covering in bruises and cuts had returned to its natural olive. Gone was the soot and sweat soaked hair, replaced now by soft, tousled locks. Even the anger in his face was gone, a soft smile and warm eyes in its place. Well, at least my actions put someone back together, he couldn't help but think. Even though, Steve could see the other man wringing his hands with worry, his lips bruised from biting, his eyes weighed down by dark bags. 

None of this explained why he was here. “…Tony?” he asked, not sure if the man was a hallucination. 

“You’ll have to forgive him,” Tony continued. “He hasn’t had breakfast yet. He tends to get cranky if he hasn’t eaten. Well, more cranky than usual.” Steve continued to stare at the man as he kept talking. “Of course, who knows if food could’ve stopped that soap opera moment, am I right? I mean, that was pretty intense. You know what? I think it’s the hair. It adds that extra touch to the whole self-loathing thing he’s got going- ”

“Tony.”

Tony whirled around to face him. “Yeah, that’s still me. What’s with the face? Do I have something in my teeth? You know, I just ate with Bruce and he said I was good, but that man is such a troll.”

Steve glanced around the room again. What the hell was happening? Maybe he was really dead.

“Hey,” Tony’s voice filtered in again. “You okay? You look pale; you need another blanket?”

“What are you doing here?” Steve uttered in a small voice.

“Ah,” Tony responded. “Yeah, you might have missed a few things when you were doing time as a Capsicle.”

“I-I don’t,” Steve started, but yet again, found himself lost for words. Tony couldn't be here, he shouldn't be here. Not after what he had done. He should be home, safe, typing away on a computer to - Steve froze when the realization hit. “You found me, didn’t you?” he started again.

“Only because Barnes asked so nicely,” Tony smiled.

Steve took a deep breath. “Tony, I- ”

“Don’t,” Tony cut him off. “There’s a time for that conversation, but it’s not now. Not gonna lie, Cap, but we’re not doing so good right now. We’ve made some pretty bad decisions recently; all of us have. We need a leader.”

Steve looked up at him, trying to keep his face neutral. “We?” he whispered.

Tony snorted. “Yeah, asshole. We. As in you, me, and all those mutts out there,” he said, nodding to the open door. At Steve’s shocked face, Tony continued. “Square deal?” he asked, putting a hand out.

Steve reached for it immediately, not caring how desperate it may have made him look. “You sure about this?” he replied. After what I did? was left unspoken. 

"No," Tony laughed in honestly. "But I don't really have time to sit back and think about it. It’s time to buck up, soldier, shut your goddamned mouth, and let your engineer help you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I can do the whole ‘adhering to authority’ thing,” Steve smiled, reciting from memory.

“Well, that’s too bad, because I’ve already called a family meeting.”

Tony uttering the word family had his heart skipping a beat, giving him a glimpse of a future that he saw back in their now demolished home when he offered Tony a job as a Commando. He'd thought that hope had burned in the flames, died as Tony ran, leaving him in that cemetery. But here it was; a beaten, bruised, and thread of a chance. Hope that the bridge may not have burned completely after all.

Steve’s smile lessened, pulling on the hand he still had in his own, bringing his other one to encircle the wrist gently. He looked up at Tony, letting his vulnerability show. “Will you stay?”

Will you give me another chance? 

Tony’s eyes softened, leaning into Steve’s touch. “Yeah, Steve. I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.” Steve would have been lying if he hadn’t shuddered when Tony used his real name. “Besides, there’s only one way we’re gonna beat these guys.”

Steve nodded, following Tony’s train of thought.

“Together.”

Chapter Text

Steve moved slowly, his feet shuffling loudly against the floor. Even with the thick layers piled around him, Steve could still feel the heat from Tony’s hand on his back as the smaller man guided him into the next room. Tony led him over to a herd of chairs, carefully ushering Steve into the most padded one. A sharp throb coursed in his chest, reminded of their gathering table at their old house, now only ash and dust. Steve let out a soft groan as he all but collapsed into the furniture, wanting nothing more than to be back in bed, ignoring the world for a little while longer.

But he couldn’t. He made this mess; it was about damn time he go clean it up.

Steve watched as the rest of his closest confidants filled the empty seats around him, offering nothing but soothing smiles. Steve’s chest panged in guilt as his team, as always, came to him with open arms. That after everything he’d done, they could still sit next to him. He didn’t deserve it.

He heard Tony flop next to him, the man’s presence still a complete shock. Steve held him in sight, afraid that if he looked away for too long, the engineer would disappear again. It wasn’t long before the seats were filled; all but one. Steve frowned, looking to the vacant seat at his right. His heart rate skyrocketed unconsciously, his body tensing as he tried to jump into action.

“Relax,” Tony’s voice filtered into his left ear, a soft grip appearing on his shoulder. “Barnes is fine. He’s just sulking. Don’t worry; he’s not going anywhere.”

Steve slumped with relief, just barely able to cover the rotten taste he felt in his mouth. God, Bucky. How could he have let this happen? How could he just sit there while his friend wasted away? Bucky had spent his entire life supporting Steve, always making sure that the other man was taken care of. But the one time Bucky needed him, Steve had left him to suffer. His obsession with keeping him safe only managed to result in neglect. Steve could only thank God that Tony had been there to keep Bucky sane while Steve fell off the deep end. It was almost unreal how Bucky had managed to find his footing again with probably his least favorite person. But again, that only shows how desperate the man had been in searching for a purpose, having to reach into no man’s land to find comfort that his own allies couldn’t give him.   

One problem at a time.

Steve nodded slightly, returning his focus to the scarcely filled room. The silence was deafening, everyone seemingly curling around themselves, leaving open spaces between them nothing more than unseen barriers, closing each one off from the others. The room was lifeless, as if he was viewing the scene before him in black and white. Gone, it seemed, were the days of camaraderie, of trust, of faith.  He found himself closing his eyes, fingers scrubbing harshly against his closed lids. “Where’s everyone else?” he asked quietly, opening his eyes to look at Clint.

The other man looked away. “This is everyone,” he whispered.

Steve found himself nodding again, unable to process the numb feeling beginning to engulf his body. Of course. Of course it wasn’t just Bucky that he’d broken. It wasn’t just Tony. It was everyone. Steve had left every last member of his crew out to dry. He’d promised them, promised all of them. He’d promised to protect them, to stand with them as their brother in arms. There was once a time where whispering ‘The Commandos’ on the street had people running for cover. If only they could see them now. If only they could see the blank stares, the dull bodies. Powerful defenders and heroes, forgotten and left to rot, like marble statues crumbling in a desolate garden. 

Steve surveyed the people that were left: Tony, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Natasha, and Sam. Maybe Bucky.

“I’m sorry, Cap,” Clint continued. “I tried, but with everything that’s happened, people just…. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Steve stopped him. “You did everything you could to keep this family afloat. I’ll forever be in your debt for doing what I couldn’t. This is on me, Clint. Everything that’s happened; it’s all on me.”

“Now is not the time for us to be paying the blame game,” Tony interjected. “I mean, we could probably sit here for days talking about all of the mistakes we’ve made. But we’ve got bigger fish to fry right now.”

Sam nodded. “Stark’s right. The Red Skull’s still out there.”

“So it is true then,” said Bruce. “He’s not really dead?”

“There’s no way. Steve killed him,” Clint interjected. Steve shuddered, picturing the menacing red mask staring at him on the other side of ice, laughing as he slipped further and further away from the surface. 

“But he was there at the river,” Tony argued. “Barnes and I saw him!”

“Was it really him, Steve? What did he sound like? What kind of mannerisms did he have?” Natasha asked.

Steve rubbed at his forehead. How the hell was he supposed to answer that. It’s not like he had really been focusing on anything, except for the gun, and the cold, the cold, the cold-

“It doesn’t matter,” Tony swooped in, as if feeling Steve’s discomfort. “It could be Schmidt or it could be just some random guy on the street; it doesn’t matter. The Red Skull is a symbol. As soon as he starts popping up around town again, the whole city’s going to be in a panic. We need a plan.”

“Well, we don’t exactly have a lot going for us,” mused Clint, looking to Thor. “He works with your brother. Any chance you could call him up so I can shoot him between the eyes?”

Thor frowned, looking over at Steve. He could feel the lingering tension in the stare, the unsaid "I told you so," blaring in his ears. Steve looked away, ashamed. Thor had warned him - they all had - about Loki. About what he was capable of. But he hadn't listened. And then Thor had left, and Steve watched him go, feeling another supporting strut be knocked out from underneath him. Steve wasn't sure when he'd returned - after watching him leave, Steve wasn't sure if he would return. But here he was, still sitting at Steve's table, returning to help clean up his mess anyway. “My brother is wilier than all of us combined," Thor spoke. "I cannot begin to fathom the acts that he’s done," he added, nodding at Steve, "but believe me when I tell you that I’m nowhere closer to getting my hands on him than you are.”

“I don't think we should be focusing on Loki. That guy's brain is a bag full of cats. You can smell crazy on him,” Bruce added. “Besides, we do have something. ‘The Monger’, right? We’ve still got Hammer locked away; maybe he knows the guy. It could definitely fill in some blanks.”

“I knew there was a reason you were my favorite,” Tony chided.

“Are we all in agreement then? We bring Hammer back in to go a few rounds?” Clint piped in.

All faces turned to face Steve. “Can you promise not to kill him?” he heard Tony ask.

Steve faced the other man, raising a single eyebrow. “Can you promise?”

Tony smiled. “There’s that dry wit. I was afraid you’d left it at the bottom of the river.”

“So it’s decided then,” Thor responded. “We bring Hammer for another talk. He is weak; it will not take long to break him.”

“You bring up a good point,” said Clint. “I don’t think we should bring him here, per say.”

“What do you mean?” Steve questioned.

“Well, no offense, Steve, but we’ve all been slumming it for the past couple of months. With everything that’s happened, I think we should take extra precautions. It’s not safe for us to be squatting in whatever’s available.”

I agree,” said Steve, pulling the blankets around his shoulder closer to him. “Does anyone have a suggestion?”

“I know a place,” Tony replied.

“We should move now,” Steve added. “The Red Skull is out there; we should automatically assume that he knows I survived, which means it probably won’t take long before he strikes again.”

“Are you sure? We can take a few more days and let you rest- ”

“No, Tony. I’ll be fine once I know that everyone’s safe. Come on,” he continued, looking to the rest of the team. “Grab everything you can; we’ll come back for the rest later.”

The team got instantly, scrambling to get whatever they could get their hands on. Clint had even managed to push Bucky into the fray as well, grabbing him from wherever he had been hiding. Steve stood to try and help, but rough hands dragged him out the door and into the passenger seat of a car. “No heavy lifting for you, Cap,” said Tony, buckling his seatbelt. “You’re still on bedrest.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not an invalid, Tony.”

“Humor me.” The look in Tony’s eyes had Steve shutting up and relaxing against the seat, watching as his team filled the rest of the cars. Tony slipped in the driver’s seat next to Steve, taking point as he led the rest of the team further into Brooklyn.

The drive was quiet, but it was pleasant. Steve let himself drift; Clint and Natasha’s soft conversation in the back seat, as well as Tony’s tapping against the steering wheel lulling him to sleep. It seemed like no time had passed when he felt Tony’s hand shake his shoulder gently. “Rise and shine, buttercup,” he teased. He let Tony manhandle him out of the car, staring blankly at the building in front of him.

“Are we stopping for lunch?” he asked. There, sitting innocently between two bricked up buildings, sat a small restaurant.

“Shawarma?” Clint added, examining the sign. “What the hell is that?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Tony replied, leading Steve and the others into the small store. The restaurant was empty, but it was still pretty early in the day. A singular man stood behind the counter, wiping it down with a cloth. Seeing the other enter his shop, the man stopped, greeting them all with kind eyes hidden behind wired glasses.  

“Mr. Stark,” he smiled softly.

“Good to see you, buddy,” Tony returned, shooting a smile back easily. “Everyone, this is Yinsen,” said Tony. “He runs the shop.”

Steve stepped forward immediately. “Nice to meet you. My name is- ”

“This is The Captain,” Tony interjected. “But I’m sure you already knew that.” Tony turned to face the group again. “I’ve given Yinsen all of your files, redacted, of course. It’s just so he sees your face as a friendly.”

“Why?” asked Sam. “Got a lot of unwanted business in a meat shop?”

“More than you’d think,” Yinsen answered with another smile, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Tony,” Steve murmured, pulling the man off to the side. “You don’t have to do this. We’re working together now; I’m not going to lose that chance again. I trust you, which means I trust your people. Yinsen can know my name.”

“Please, Captain," Yinsen interrupted. "It’s alright; it is of no consequence to me that I do not know your birth name. In fact, it is probably better that I do not. After all, you have your family to take care of, and I have mine.”

“If you’re sure,” Steve responded.

“Of course,” soothed Yinsen. “I can do my job without it. Mr. Stark has assured me that you are all good people. That is good enough for me.”

“Good man,” Tony beamed. “Come on, gang,” he continued, pulling on Steve’s arm as he led the group past Yinsen to the back of the shop. “The real fun’s through here.”

Tony led them further in, through the kitchen and past the freezers, and into a cramped storage area. The team stepped lightly, trying to walk over cleaning supplies and other storage items. “I suppose there’s a reason we’re all crammed back here?” Clint sighed.

Tony held up a finger. “Patience is a virtue.” He walked against the far wall, towards an old metal cabinet. Without even pausing, Tony grabbed the edge of the cabinet, swinging it open with practiced ease, the cabinet disgusing that fact that it was nothing more than a hidden entryway. A solid door, one seemingly fit for a bunker entrance, stood before them, complete with a keypad and thumb scanner. Tony placed his thumb on the screen, a green light appearing followed by the sound of the door being unlocked. “This is a new addition, of course,” Tony continued, nodding to the scanner, as he opened the door. “But this is the 21^st century; can’t just trust a lock and key anymore.”

Tony swung the door open, revealing a darkened staircase. The Commandos followed dutifully, like baby ducks traveling behind their mother as they trekked new territory. It was a short flight down, but it was slow. No light emanated in the stair case, so Steve and the rest of the team had stuck their arms out to keep their balance. Tony, unlike the rest of them, walked down the stairs confidently, as if he’d trodden down them thousands of times before. Finally reaching the bottom, Tony opened a final creaking gate, and led the group into the landing. It was just as dark as the staircase, and cool; they were underground. Tony walked back behind them, only to flick on the overhead lights.

Steve would have been lying if he hadn’t let out a sharp intake of breath. Warm light flooded the room, showing it to be much larger than expected. Dark wood floors covered the ground, peeking out between worn rugs. The walls, colored surprisingly light, were tastefully decorated with sparse and simple paintings and black and white photos. Off to the right, a huge bar sprawled, the large alcohol bottles sitting behind twinkling in the light. The left wing of the room housed plush armchairs and large couches, facing a darkened flatscreen that hung on the wall. But in the middle of the room, encompassed down on depressed flooring, sat a huge, ornate table with probably enough seating for an entire football team.

“What is this place?” Thor asked.

Steve couldn’t help but grin as he looked around the large room. “It’s a speakeasy.”

“You own a speakeasy? Of course. Of course you own a speakeasy,” Clint said, rolling his eyes.

Tony grinned. “Well, if we’re being technical, it belonged to dear old dad. The SSR gave it to him back in the day. I guess this building was an old clothing shop that was a front for the bar, but was abandoned not long after the prohibition ended. The SSR found the building and used it for secret meetings with the government during World War II, hence the Kind Arthur set up over there.  But, ever since dad’s kicked the bucket, I’ve swooped in and made a few adjustments of my own; advancements if you will. I use it a lot for when I need to go on a work binge, or if I need to lay low for a few days.”

“This place is huge,” mused Sam.

“Oh, please,” Tony snorted. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Didn’t really see this as your style,” Natasha said, walking past a few of the old photographs.

“Oh, it’s not,” Tony continued. “But, the design is all original from the prohibition. Seemed like a waste to get rid of history. Besides, old fashioned can be classic.”

“I like it,” Steve whispered.

“I thought you would,” laughed Tony.

“Huh,” Clint remarked, looking at a small frame hanging over by the bar. “Old fashioned is right; I don’t even know what this means,” he said, pointing at the sign. “’Go Ugly Early’? What the hell kind of an insult is that?”

“It’s because it’s a code,” answered Tony, walking over to the sign. “Back during the prohibition, discretion was key. People relied on codes and passwords to figure out where the speakeasies were located and when to go.”

“And they landed on ‘Go Ugly Early’? Definitely not what I would’ve gone with.”

Steve snorted. “The meaning is in its opposite. ‘Go Ugly Early’ means ‘Come Pretty Late’. Workers would whisper it in during store hours, and the customers that recognized the code would know that the bar would be open that night.”

“People sure did go through a lot of trouble to get a drink,” Clint responded.

“Trust me when I tell you’ve that I’ve done a whole lot more to get a whole lot less,” joked Tony. “Come on; let me finish giving you the nickel tour.” Behind the double doors of the bar was a spacious and up to date kitchen, stocked with every food imaginable. Beyond that, Tony led Steve and the others down another hallway, the wood floors creaking underneath their steps.

“Okay, so all the way the down there will lead you back up some steps and to the bedrooms. Apparently the owners of the speakeasy bought the next building over just for rooms so their customers can spent the night with some of their lady friends,” Tony joked, pointing further down the hallway. “But don’t worry, they’ve all been refurnished and modernized; there’s more than enough rooms for everybody. There’s also a door that leads down another level, most likely used for beer storage. Right now, I’ve got a lab down there for weapons testing. I’m also currently finishing up a gym down there because apparently you all have a hankering for hitting things for fun.”

“What is all this?” Steve found himself asking.

“Well, I thought I was pretty obvious. We’re back in this together; we’re going to need somewhere to stay, don’t you think?”

“You’d let us stay here?” added Sam.

Tony shrugged. “Why not? It’s kind of big to just be staying here all by myself. Besides, there is no way I’m staying in the shitholes you guys have been rolling in recently. Sorry, but this fine-tuned machine only goes between Egyptian cotton sheets; take it or leave it.”

“Tony,” Steve interjected, grabbing the smaller man’s arm. “This is too much; we couldn’t possibly- ”

“You can, and you will,” Tony finished, pulling away and leading everyone back into the main room. “It’s the safest place we could be right now, and you know it. There’s a sewer entrance as well, most likely used for smuggling in beer, if you don’t want to walk through the store. I’ve outfitted every entrance with fingerprint scans as well; there is no way anyone can get in who doesn’t belong. Oh, and JARVIS will keep an eye on things.”

“Of course,” a British voice said as it filled the room, causing Steve to jump.

“Who said that?” asked Thor, reaching for his gun. “Show yourself.”

“Relax, big guy,” Tony quipped. “JARVIS is an AI. I had him outfitted into the mainframe a while back; he runs the place.”

“AI?”

“Artificial Intelligence,” answered Bruce. “You built him?” he continued, looking at Tony with interest.

“Yep,” Tony answered proudly.

“Of course you did,” smiled Steve.

“JARVIS will watch over the whole place. Trust me; we’re as safe as can be. So what do ya say, Cap? Good enough for you?”

Steve looked around the room, meeting everyone’s expectant faces. “I think this just might work.”

Chapter Text

“So. What now?”

Steve took a deep breath, reveling in how he was able to fill his lungs completely. All seven members that remained on The Commandos, Tony now included, sat around the large meeting table in their new base. It had been a few days since their initial move in, the crew scattering to get everything they could moved in, while Steve and Bucky were still on bed rest.

Steve, for the first time in a long time, felt back in the game. His fever had gone down, as well as Bucky’s, both men almost back to full health. While Steve hadn’t managed to corner Bucky about their last encounter, Steve clung to any interaction the two had within the group. As for the rest of them, they seemed to be fitting in nicely, getting back into the swing of things easily.

It was almost serene. He was alive; his team, the ones that had stayed, were all accounted for and (mostly) well. Tony had let him back in. It reminded him much of the time when Steve and Bucky had first established The Commandos. They were in the thick of trying to eradicate HYDRA the first time, and while Steve was still quietly mourning the deaths of the SSR, he lost himself in the thrill of a new team, a new mission. It was like he was a kid again, sitting with his mother, nearly bouncing with excitement in his seat while they painted newly molded plastic soldiers - new people, new stories, new futures to unlock. And while this time in the speakeasy, the characters surrounding him were the same, they each got a fresh coat of paint, rejuvenated for the next battle to come. It most more ironic, really, that Steve was finally able to find peace and when they were in the midst of a mob war.

“Cap? What’s next?” Steve heard Sam prod again. Steve jostled himself, looking back at six expectant faces.

“Well, we’ve got two options: Loki or Hammer.”

“Hammer is obviously the weaker of the two,” answered Thor. “We could get information out of him in minutes.”

“Yeah, but will it be any good?” countered Tony. “Hammer’s like a startled deer. As soon as he sees the headlights coming, he freezes up and spurts anything and everything that comes to mind. How much of what we get will be actually helpful?”

“You’re both right,” agreed Steve. “Hammer’s weak, but we can spin it to our advantage without even touching him. Keep him locked up for a little while longer; cut all communication. Let’s see what happens when a man who likes to talk doesn’t have anyone who wants to listen.”

“So we’re going to go after Loki then?” asked Bruce. “How the hell are we gonna find him?”

“Shouldn't be too hard considering I know where he’s gonna be,” Steve responded, hearing everyone shift in their seats.

“Steve, you didn’t contact him again, did you?” Bucky asked, eyeing him warily.

“No, of course not," Steve replied easily, quelling his team's nerve. "But when I was in contact with him the first time, I might have done something dumb. I know, shocking.”

“What’d you tell him?” Natasha questioned, not missing a single beat.

Steve looked at Bucky. “I told Loki something in exchange for where I could find the head of HYDRA. I told him a location of a file drop.”

Bucky’s reaction was instantaneous. “You what?” he hissed, eyes darting around the room in fear at Steve's abrupt admission, unconsciously gauging everyone else's reaction, tensing for a fight. Just like he had been taught in the SSR. After all this time, his friend was still so loyal, ready to protect him and the SSR's secrets, as he vowed to do on day one. If only Steve could have been as strong as him. 

Steve deflated. “I don’t know, Buck. I wasn’t thinking! I was just so desperate to try and put a stop to everything that I just told him!”

“Hey, relax,” Tony interjected. “What are you talking about?”

“You know who I am. You know who I worked for.” Everyone in the room nodded. “The reason I was such a high commodity in the mob world because I was supposed to know every little secret of the SSR. Names, locations, heists, you name it. Everyone wanted a piece of me, but the SSR kept me hidden. They just dropped enough hints of the magnitude of what I knew, an ongoing threat to keep people in line." Steve sighed, pausing. He wasn't supposed to tell anyone the full story. Sure, Bucky was mostly aware of his secrets as he was privy to them as well, but this was something that he should have brought to his grave. Phillips had made that abundantly clear. Loki had known about them, somehow; he just didn't know where. When Loki asked for an exchange, Steve had hastily agreed. Phillips and the rest of the SSR was dead in the ground, and Loki already knew of their existaence, so he wasn't technically breaking the rules, right? 

And hadn't that turned out spectacularly. It didn't matter now. The cat's been long out of the bag - besides, this was his family. The people that promised to share his burdens, to help shoulder the weight. There would be no more lies between them. The SSR was only lies, and it eventually caught up with them. No more. "But I never did," Steve admitted, feeling a wight lift off his chest. "I didn't know anything. I just knew the locations on where they kept the information.”

"Locations? Plural?"  Clint asked. 

"The SSR had information on anyone and anything," Bucky responded. "I never got to see any of the locations myself, but I saw what happened to people who didn't believe in them. The drops were everything to them: their power, their currency, their bargaining chips. The SSR had been gathering since World War II; the extent of knowledge that they knew was enough to strike fear into any other mob. After what happened to them," Bucky added quietly, "and after HYDRA was seemingly gone, everything changed. We killed Steve Rogers in every way that we could, helping him disappear until people assumed that he died with the rest of the SSR. After that, the world jsut seemed to forget about the files and the lingering threat of the SSR." 

“And you told Loki where one of them was? One of these file drops?” Tony prodded.

Steve nodded. “He doesn’t know that there's more than one. Besides, after losing our old base I probably won’t be able to remember on hand where they all are. But, the fact that he knows where one of them is is bad enough.”

“Aye,” responded Thor. “My brother won’t be able to resist taking a look, whether or not he’s working with HYDRA.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Steve replied. “We stake it out and hope we catch him.”

“Doesn’t sound like a very solid plan,” Clint drawled.

“You got a better one?”

“Hey, that’s not my job. You just pay me to shoot my gun,” he smiled. “Alright, I’m in. Give me the location; I’ll get him for you.”

Steve nodded, writing down an address in his cramped scrawl. “It’s settled then. Bruce, stay here with Tony but keep your phone on. Tony, I’m going to need any surveillance on the place you can give me. The rest of you, go pack the vans. We leave immediately.”

Clint and Natasha were off in a dash, quick to obey. Thor looked grave, but started to ready his own weapon. Steve stood, turning in time to see Bucky having a silent conversation with Tony. Bucky flushed when he saw that Steve had seen the exchange, dropping eye contact and walking out of the room, no doubt to wait in the vans.

It wasn’t long before the rest of the team were hauling huge duffel bags up the stairs and out through the store, loading each of the cars. Steve reached for his jacket to follow when a hand shot out and grabbed him, pulling him away from the door. “Don’t. You aren’t going with them.”

Steve turned, frowning at Tony. “Like hell I’m not,” he snapped.

While Steve’s tone was harsh and brittle, Tony kept his calm, trying to soothe Steve’s anger. “Do you trust them?”

Steve didn’t hesitate. “With my life.”

“Then let them take care of this,” Tony placated. “They’ve been holed up for a few months, Cap. Go let the kids out to have a little fun.” Steve sighed, looking back towards the door before Tony continued. “They’ll be fine. They trust you; it’s time for you to trust them. Take them off the leash and let them go raise a little hell.”

That had been two days ago. And still nothing. Steve was driving himself crazy thinking that something might go wrong, The team kept in contact, of course, but it did little to soothe Steve's nerves. Loki was dangerous. He still doesn't know how Tony had managed to talk him down from chasing after them as they left. 

"Steve, you're going to wear a hole through the floor." Steve looked up, mid pace, to see Tony smirking at him, the man casually draped against a wall. 

"I'm worried." 

Tony rolled his eyes. "Have a little faith. Calm down; they'll be fine." 

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know, for as many times as you tell me that, I still don't think it's working." 

Tony laughed, walking up to him. "Alright, easy, mama bear. What you need is a distraction." 

Steve shot the other man an unimpressed look. "And I'm assuming you've got one for me?" 

“Bingo,” Tony chided, pulling him down the hallway towards the stairs that led to the bedrooms. The two of them walked down the hallway in a comfortable silence, shoulders brushing occasionally. To Steve's surprise, after walking to the top of the stairs, Tony opted to take a right instead of a left towards the rooms. 

“Where are we going?”

Tony smirked back at him, his eyes gleaming. “Patience, dear Captain.”

Tony dragged him to a door, one that Steve had originally thought to be a closet. However, when Tony opened it, it revealed another slim hallway. The two walked down back across the new level reaching yet another door. Tony nodded to Steve, gesturing for the other man to open it.

Steve obliged, swinging the door open, breath immediately getting caught in his throat. Past the wooden entryway was a surprisingly spacious room, walls adorned it a rich blue, accented by bright scones. A large desk, probably mahogany knowing Tony, lay facing the pair, lush chair sitting behind it. A personal bar sat atop plush rugs, nestled nicely between a long couch and matching armchair. The wall along the left side was left oddly bare, while the back was consisted of one giant bookshelf, the wall to Steve’s right made entirely out of glass.

“Thought you could use an office,” he heard Tony say. Steve tried to respond, feeling his mouth open and close a few times, but no words managed to come out, instead opting to explore the new room.

Steve walked over to the window, finding himself staring down at the main room of the speakeasy. The windows were high enough up that it got overlooked from the ground floor, but still managed to give a vantage point for the entire bar. “I guess whoever was in charge back in the day wanted to keep an eye on the guests,” said Tony, walking up alongside him. “I thought you’d appreciate being able to do the same.”

Although there was no one in it now, Steve could already see the signs of his crew moving in. There were already extra combat boots thrown in the corner by the door, a few scattered guns on the table left to be cleaned, snacks littering the bar. Steve couldn’t help but smile. Although it may have looked like just another mess to someone, Steve knew the true meaning. When they were on the run, his crew always kept their bags packed, ready to move at the drop of a hat. But here, it was the exact opposite. Because they knew it wasn’t temporary. Because they knew they were home. “Thank you,” he responded, sincerity dripping in his tone.

How could this man keep on giving? Steve had heard about Tony Stark for years. About the Merchant of Death, the man with no heart. But he had never heard anything about the man standing next to him. How had everyone overlooked this? How had no one seen the true Tony Stark? How had Howard missed that his son was so special?

“Tony, I don’t know what to say,” Steve whispered.

“Well, don’t say anything yet, because we’re not done yet.”

Steve raised an eyebrow as Tony pulled him over to his new desk. There, atop the dark mahogany was Tony’s suitcase, the one that Steve had seen house a few of his computers while they were first tracking HYDRA.

“Open it,” Tony said.

Confused, Steve reached forward, releasing the tabs and pulling the top back.

It was his pictures. The ones from his wall in his old office. Every newspaper clipping, every candid photo, every scribbled doodle. Everything.

Steve found himself scrambling to find the right words. “How?” he whispered, hands shaking as he picked up the first one, depicting a sleeping Tony in front of his computer.

“It’s a long story,” Tony responded sheepishly, rubbing a hand along the back side of his neck. “But consider it a peace offering. We had a couple of rocky starts, but third time’s the charm, right?”

Steve shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t owe me anything,” he said, still looking at the pictures in awe.

Tony shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe I just wanted to see you smile again.”

Steve snapped his head towards Tony, blue eyes piercing into brown. Tony stared right on back, his eyes soft, a shy smile gracing his lips. Without thinking twice, Steve rushed to the other man, sweeping him in a tight hug. It was so easy to just wrap his arms around the smaller frame and bury his face into Tony’s neck, the man smelling of overpriced shampoo with a feint undertone of metal. All words that he could have thought of were thrown out the window when he felt Tony’s hands hesitantly grasp him back, Steve making sure to squeeze him tighter in reassurance.

“Well, Cap,” Tony started, his warm voice tickling Steve’s ear. “If I would’ve known I’d get that reaction, I would have done this days ago,” he chuckled.

Steve huffed out a laugh of his own, pulling back slightly to meet Tony’s eyes again. “You are unbelievable,” he gasped.

Tony flashed him another smile and then suddenly it was if all of the air had been sucked form the room. Steve was vaguely aware that they were still wrapped around each other, but he paid it no mind. He just stared down at the smaller man, Tony’s eyes swirling like molten amber, his eyelashes curled like sunflowers towards the sun, his lips chapped and warm from where he’d bitten them. “I-I, uh…,” Steve began, eyes flashing down to his lips again.

“Yeah?” Tony breathed, flushing slightly.

Mind pumping into overdrive, Steve leaned forward. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt Tony’s warm pants against his lips. One of Steve’s hands drifted up to hold Tony’s neck, pulling him the final few inches to-

Sam burst through the door, both men jumping feet away from each other. Steve could feel his face burning as his hands frantically tried to find something to do, settling on straightening out his shirt. Thankfully, Sam, if he even did notice, didn’t mention it. “We got him,” he said breathlessly.

“Loki?” asked Tony, voice a little hoarse.

Sam nodded. “He was just where you said he’d be. Bastard couldn’t resist not going after the SSR’s secrets. And don't worry,” he added, looking to Steve. "He didn't get a single thing." 

Steve shot one last glance at Tony. There was time for that later; right now, it was time to work. “Where is he?”

“Downstairs.”

“You brought him here?” Steve questioned. “Isn’t that a little bit risky?”

Sam shrugged, leading Steve and Tony down the stairs towards the cellars downstairs. “Clint suggested it. Said it was a perfect time to break in the new interrogation room.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe we should move him.”

Tony placed a hand on his shoulder, the blonde shivering faintly at the touch. “Relax, Cap. No one knows where this place is but us. We’re perfectly safe; there’s no way HYDRA can find out we have him. Now come on; let’s go see our latest guest.”

1 hour later

Clint Barton slammed through the door, taking the steps two at a time. His breath was shallow, but he could barely hear them over the harsh pants coming from behind him.

“Get me out of here,” the voice behind him snapped, scoffing when Clint forced them to a stop instead. Perching the two of them around the corner, Clint pulled out his gun, peeking back out ever so slightly. “What are you waiting for?” the other man hissed.

“A distraction,” Clint whispered, pulling out his gun.

Lo and behold, it was mere seconds before Bucky Barnes came charging around the corner they’d just come from, other steps sounding not far behind him. Seeing his window, Clint jumped from cover, aiming straight at the brunette.

Barnes stuttered to a halt, his eyes comically wide as he stared back at the marksman. “Clint?” he almost whimpered, raw betrayal crossing over his features.

“Hail HYDRA.”

A shot rang out.

Barnes hit the floor.

Clint turned to face Loki. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

"Are we sure about this?"

Steve stood in the lower bowels of the speakeasy, staring at an unconscious Loki. The man had a nasty head wound, blood dripping down his pale skin. He had been bound to a chair, positioned directly under the singular hanging light bulb.

“We don’t have a choice now,” Tony said next to him.

Steve nodded to Natasha. “Wake him up.”

The redhead walked over, drawing out her smelling salts. One whiff under his nose and the other man was gasping awake, his pale eyes darting around his new surroundings. Once he saw Steve, he started to laugh. “What a twist,” he said, voice gruff. “The Captain survived the ice.”

Steve clenched his jaw. It was the only confirmation that he needed that Loki was in on his demise with the Red Skull. “You know why you’re here,” he said, steering the conversation away from him.

Loki rolled his eyes. “You and your lackeys are to punch a confession out of me.”

“This can be avoided,” Thor cut in. “You can help us.”

Loki laughed again. “Oh, brother. You are as naïve as you are dull.” The dark brunette turned back to Steve. “You can save your energy; you won’t be getting anything out of me.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Steve grit out.

“Oh, here comes the threats. Trying to get me to quiver in my boots? Maybe let my brother throw me around a few minutes; that will definitely mess with my head. And then, of course, you send in Romanoff, the saving grace. After whatever tortures you can concoct, she’ll come as a friend. And then I would cooperate,” he said with a sneer. “You’re all too predictable; don’t waste my time.”

“You just really like hearing yourself talk, don’t you?” Steve almost jumped at the harsh tone, forgetting Tony was standing beside him.

Loki’s eyes swiveled over to Tony, Steve stepping forward slightly, as if unconsciously trying to stop the threatening gaze. “Ah, Anthony. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Now this,” he jeered, nodding towards Steve. “This I didn’t except. Since when did you join back up with this motley crew? Offer you something you didn’t have yet?” he drawled.

“Healthcare package,” Tony quipped.

“Stop, stalling,” Steve interjected. “What are you doing working with HYDRA?”

“You see, Stark,” Loki continued, completely ignoring Steve. “You had us all fooled. Everyone believed that you and The Captain were done. But you couldn’t stay away, could you? They saw, Stark. They saw you and Barnes pull The Captain out of the river. They know you’re still with them. They’re going to kill you, Stark.”

“Shut your mouth,” Steve hissed. He'd heard this threat from Loki before; and after this nearly fatal meeting with the Red Skull, it was clear that Tony definitely wasn't safe. But any remember of that fact set fire through his veins. 

Loki mocked surprise. “Hit a nerve, did I? And what about you, Captain? They know you’re not dead. How long before they come back to finish the job? How long before they cart you back into that river. Maybe they’ll do it like they used to, and tie you to some cinderblocks. Just let it take you all the way to the bottom and let you drown, the last thing you’ll ever know is how cold- ”

A fist shot out, clocking Loki dead center. The man went spilling to the ground, gasping at the force of it. Steve turned to look at Tony, the man now rubbing at his knuckles. “Fucker,” he spat, eyes blazing.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Natasha grabbed them both by the collar, dragging them out of the room, Thor not far behind. She pulled them up the stairs where everyone else was waiting and sat them down.

“What the hell?” Tony asked, still rubbing at his hand. 

Natasha shot him a dirty look. “You two can’t be in there. You’re letting him get to your head; we’re not gonna get anywhere like this.”

“He’s in all of our heads,” replied Thor. “This is what I was trying to tell you. We can’t win against his mind. He’ll see everything that’s coming and just prepare for it.”

“So, how are we gonna go about this then?” asked Sam. “There has to be something we haven’t thought of.”

“Give me a gun,” snapped Tony. “Bet he wouldn’t see that coming.”

“Tony,” Steve sighed. 

“No, Cap. That man deserves what’s coming to him.”

“Absolutely not,” Thor roared. “I won’t let you go in there and kill my brother.”

Tony gaped at the large blonde. “I’m sorry, but whose side are you on? Did you forget how he lined Steve up for slaughter? Your brother probably had a hand in the bomb as well. That scumbag needs to die.”

“Take care how you speak,” hissed Thor stepping closer to Tony.

Steve stepped between the two of them. “Alright, let’s calm down.” He turned towards Tony. “You know he’s more valuable to us alive,” he said calmly, trying to soothe Tony’s bristling anger. “He’s not exactly my favorite person in the world either, but we can still use him. Besides, someone once told me that blowing people’s brains out isn’t always the answer. I reckon he was right.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “You’re playing dirty.”

Steve shrugged. “Is it working?”

Tony sighed, shoulders deflating. “Well, then what do you suggest? Not gonna lie, I wouldn’t exactly object to your boys tossing him around in there like a chopped salad.”

“You won’t get anywhere,” replied Thor. “Throwing a few fists at him will not get him to show his weaknesses.” 

“Maybe he just hasn’t been punched hard enough,” Tony bit out.

“This isn’t working,” sighed Steve. Maybe they should have just stuck with trying to get something out of Hammer. It wouldn't be like they wouldn't get anything out of him. But Tony had made a good point - how much of that information would actually be useful? Even if Hammer was working with HYDRA, there was no way they didn't view him as something dispensable. Considering the fact that no effort had been made by HYDRA to try and get him back, Steve guessed that the rival mob was confident that he didn't know anything worth saving. With that in mind, it had him and the rest of the group desperate to try and get something out of Loki. 

“Well, we can’t sit around and do nothing!”

“What can we do?”

“This was a mistake.”

“What if HYDRA already knows?”

“Do you think they’re coming?”

“We need to focus on Loki!”

“It won’t matter once we’re all dead!”

“I’ll do it.”

All voices stopped, eyes turning to Clint.

“You?” Steve asked. Clint never did interrogations. Never. He always said he was more of a delivery boy, both him and Bucky running rampant through the streets of New York to find their next package, bringing them back for usually Nat to take them apart. While Clint had always joked about being the errand boy, Steve knew he wouldn’t have it any other way. Steve could always catch a glimpse of it; the uneasiness that sat in his stormy eyes whenever he walked in during one of their sessions. That, and once while in a drunken stupor, Clint had admitted that he didn’t like the noises. The dull thuds of flesh hitting flesh, the chair scrapping, the pleading moans. He said it reminded him too much of his time in the circus. That was all Steve needed to know to try and keep the man as far away from interrogations as possible.

This time, Clint just shrugged nonchalantly. “You said Loki’s smart. He’ll be prepared for our usual techniques. He won’t expect me, though.”

Natasha nodded. “He’s right. Throwing a curveball like this is the best chance to catch Loki off guard.”

“Clint, you don’t have to do this,” Steve pleaded, walking up to the other man. “We can find another way.”

“Trust me on this one,” he drawled with an easy smile.

The door slammed behind the pair as they walked into the dimly lit room.

Loki looked up at them, one eye already swelling shut from Stark’s right hook. “Ah,” he said. “I was starting to think you had forgotten about me. Tell me, Captain, which one of your lovely mutts will be taking care of me?”

A mop of dirty blonde hair stepped around The Captain, leveling Loki with an icy glare. “That would be me.”

Even with his eyes, Loki was sure that the marksman caught the look of uncertainty shoot across Loki’s face before the bored and blank mask returned. “The archer? Really, Captain, I would have thought I warranted someone a little more capable than him.”

The Captain frowned, turning back towards Barton. “I’ll give you twenty minutes. Try not to kill him.” And with that, The Captain stormed out, leaving the two alone.

Loki opened his mouth again, but Barton held up a finger, looking over towards the door, leaning close. “He should be out of hearing distance,” he whispered, almost to himself. He turned back towards Loki. “We should be good,” he nodded.

“What?”

“Alright, then. Let’s get started.” Barton bounded over to him. Loki prepared himself for another punch, but nothing came. He looked up to meet Barton’s eyes, only to find the man staring angrily down at him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” hissed Barton.

Loki blinked, caught off guard by the question.

Barton scoffed, walking behind the man and, untying his hands? “You just couldn’t resist, could you? You knew that The Captain would have eyes on the file drop, but you just had to go and look anyway. Goddammit; do you realize what you’ve done?”

Noting his now freed hands, Loki brought them back around the chair, rubbing at his sore wrists. What the hell is happening? “I’m sorry?”

“Do you even know anything?” Barton sneered. “We had everything set up and you had to go and ruin it all. We were still planning on saving this operation! The Captain was all paranoid because he’d spilled the beans, sending a few of us over to watch the file drop. It was the perfect opportunity for me to finish the rest and take the files, but no. you just had to waltz in there like you owned the joint. What the hell were you thinking?”

Loki continued to stare blankly at the other man. “You’re HYDRA?” Could it be true? 

“You really don’t know anything,” he sighed, sounding unimpressed. “Just my luck. Yes, I’m HYDRA, you asshole. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on this place. How the hell do you think they get all of their info?”

A mole.

Pierce had let something slip about a mole, hadn't he? He knew that there had been one planted in the SSR. If it had been so easy to fit someone in there, how hard would it have been to slip another one into the ranks of The Commandos? Especially since, after the fall of The SSR, The Captain was desperate to fill his ranks to help fight the war against HYDRA. He would have taken anybody; even accept a double agent by accident.

Loki started to get up, but stopped himself. “Why should I believe you,” he asked, eyes narrowing.

Barton sighed. “I really don’t have time for this.” The man reached into his mouth, pulling out a white false tooth. HYDRA’s failsafe. “That proof enough for you?”

“But how?” Loki found himself whispering. He prided himself on being able to stay one step ahead of the rest; its how he was able to thrive on his own. But nothing - none of his contacts or his own notes - had even hinted at a rat within The Commandos. 

“Please,” Barton replied. “If you didn’t know about me then you’re not as important to HYDRA as you thought you were. I’m not about to spill everything to you. Just like I’m not going to let you ruin my op. It’s taken me years to get where I am today; I’m not gonna let some nosy foreigner destroy my success.”

Barton pulled him up from the chair and over to the door. “I don’t understand. They never mentioned you,” Loki continued. He and Pierce were no where close to friends, but they had a mutual respect for one another. But where Loki was illusive and vague, Pierce was narcissistic and proud. He couldn't help but boast about his achievements. How he had been the one to rise HYDRA back from its grave, and how he would be the one to finish Rogers off for good. But yet he hadn't mention anything about Barton. Something like this would have been their crown jewel. 

“Why would they? You didn’t think you were that high up on the totem pole, did you?” Barton responded. “It doesn’t matter. We need to get you out of here; my boss isn’t done with you.”

“How do you plan on accomplishing that?”

Barton opened the door, peeking around each side. “I slip you out the back, tell everyone you got the jump on me. It’s not fool proof, but it’s the best we can do. I let you land a few punches and hopefully Cap will be too worried about my health to figure it out.”

Loki rolled his eyes. It sounded like a disastrous idea. One that ended with him dead. “Do all of The Commandos share your brains?”

“You got a better idea? I’m trying to save your life, asshole. Now, come on.” Barton grabbed him, pulling him out of the room. The hallway was empty, but Loki could still hear the sounds of the other mob members in the distance. He watched as Clint Barton slammed through the door, taking the steps two at a time.

“Get me out of here,” Loki snapped, scoffing when Barton forced them to a stop instead. Perching the two of them around the corner, Loki watched as Barton pulled out his gun, peeking back out ever so slightly. “What are you waiting for?” he hissed.

“A distraction,” Barton whispered, pulling out his gun.

Lo and behold, it was mere seconds before Barnes came charging around the corner they’d just come from, other steps sounding not far behind him. Without a moment’s hesitation, Barton charged around the corner pointing the barrel down at Barnes.  

Barnes stuttered to a halt, his eyes comically wide as he stared back at the marksman. “Clint?” he almost whimpered, raw betrayal crossing over his features.

“Hail HYDRA.”

A shot rang out.

Barnes hit the floor.

Barton turned to face Loki. “Let’s go.”

Barton dragged him down another hallway. “That won’t hold them,” Barton panted. “With Barnes dead, it won’t be long before The Captain comes to finish us.”

“I thought you were going to let me go quietly? You just blew your cover!”

“No,” Barton snapped. “You blew my cover. Besides, there’s too many of them here. I should have known that sneaking you out wouldn’t have been an option. All we have to do is reach the door and we’ll be golden.”

Barton made a move to start again, but stuttered to a halt when Thor came looming down their path. “Shit,” Barton whispered. “Follow me.”

He grabbed at Loki again, pulling the man back from where they came. Looking back down the previous hallway, Loki could see The Captain leaning over Barnes’ body, but luckily, not looking up to see them. “We’re heading back down the stairs,” Barton said. “There are tunnels that they used in The Prohibition. The ones to sneak the booze in. We’ll escape through there.”

Loki just found himself nodding, following Barton’s lead. They took the long way around to avoid Barnes and the over men, but soon the stairs were back in sight. The two men raced back down, Barton leading Loki into the dark caverns underneath the base.

“So, tell me,” Barton snapped, jogging next to him. “Why the hell were you looking at those files? I could’ve gotten hands on them.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly know about you! Besides, I don’t actually work for your boss. I just scratch his back and he scratches mine.”

Barton shot him an unimpressed look, leading them left. “What can my boss offer you?”

“Protection. However, his word might not be enough anymore. Your boss is getting in way over his head, if you ask me.”

Barton shrugged, picking up the pace a little when dull sounds echoed behind them. “That’s the only way he knows how to work. He like the challenge.”

Loki wheezed out a laugh. “He’s involving too many people. It won’t be long until Pierce finds himself dead by his so called friends.”

“You think The Monger is going to turn on him?”

Loki panted, his mind working slowly as exhaustion caught up with him. The tunnels that Barton led him through were twisted, the man seemingly taking random turns as if to throw off their tails. “Eventually,” Loki finally answered. “They all want the same thing, but for different reasons. How long before they realize they don’t need the other?”

Barton nodded. “Sounds like a good time to jump ship.”

Loki snorted. “You get me out of here, Barton, and I’ll ensure you can disappear.”

Barton made to answer but a sharp bang sounded behind them. Barton stopped, grabbing Loki with him. “They’re catching up,” he whispered, turning back towards Loki. “Listen, we’re almost there. Go straight and turn right at the junction and you’ll get to a door similar to the one we left through. Go in, and it will lead you out towards the sewer. I’ll catch up.”

Not trying to convince the man otherwise, Loki flew down the hall, turning right to find the door, just as Barton promised. He flew it open, ready to run into the sewers-

Only to crash into The Captain’s chest.

Loki looked up, trying to flee, but another body closed around him. Barnes?

The Captain smiled down at him. “Did he talk?”

Barton’s voice trickled out behind him. “Oh, yeah," he said, huffing out a laugh. “Couldn’t get the bastard to shut up.”

“I-I don’t… what’s happening?”

“You just got interrogated by Clint Barton,” Barnes replied, clapping a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “You played your part so well. Seriously, Oscar worthy. It was almost as if you really believed you were getting out of here.”

Loki’s blood froze.

He had been played. How? 

Barton turned to face him, lazy smirk adorning his face. “You didn’t see that coming?” he drawled.

Before Loki could respond, Barton’s fist snapped out, connecting with Loki’s head, and then everything was black.

Chapter Text

“How bad is it?”

Tony lounged in his seat, feigning relaxation while he really sat tense as a coil. Odinson had gone to put Loki back into his cell, while the rest of the team filtered back into the main room, following Barton. While the team was expecting answers, Barton had rushed past them all, mumbling something about Coulson before leaving to no doubt make a call to the man. When Barton returned, however, he was paler than when he left, pacing around the room with shaking hands. Whatever he had learned while talking with Loki, it couldn’t be good.

“I’ll do it.”

Who would have thought that those three words would have been enough to stop the arguing? While everyone had turned to look at Barton, Tony stopped and watched Steve. It was obvious the man was uncomfortable; it was understandable, of course, considering Tony knew that the marksman wasn’t usually the first option for interrogating by torture.

“You?” Steve asked.

“You said Loki’s smart. He’ll be prepared for our usual techniques. He won’t expect me, though.”

It was a good point. If Steve kept Barton away from this type of work, Loki wouldn't have any previous intel to rely upon. If anything, it would keep the Norwegian off his A game long enough for him to let something slip. But Loki was good - he'd been creating chaos when Tony had first met him when we was younger. From what tabs he get on him as they grew older, it seemed that Loki had perfected his craft and was seemingly skipping through more and more sinister activities, coming out unharmed every time. The only thing that may have worked in their favor was his estrangement from Asgard and his family. But it seemed Thor was as lost as they were. 

Romanoff nodded. “He’s right. Throwing a curve ball like this is the best chance to catch Loki off guard.”

“Trust me on this one,” Barton drawled with an easy smile.

“No offence, Clint, but you really don’t- ”

“What are you thinking?” Barnes interrupted.

Barton smirked at the other man. “You know exactly what I’m thinking.”

Barnes frowned. “You sure it’ll work on him? He isn’t exactly a prime contestant.”

“You got a better idea?” Barton responded.

Tony leaned over to Steve. “Am I the only one who has no idea what’s happening?”

Thankfully, Steve turned to him, looking just as lost. “It’s best just to not ask questions.”

Tony snorted, looking back at the other two hitmen. “You two gonna share with the class?”

Barton walked over to the fridge, opening it to dig around. “Just sit back and enjoy the show,” his muffled voice came out. After finding what he was looking for Barton darted over to Barnes, holding up a ketchup packet.

Barnes looked unimpressed until the dirty blonde started to pout. “It’s for effect, Buck,” Barton whined. Barnes sighed, but grabbed the packet, strapping it under his shirt with tape from a nearby med kit. "Don't miss," he grumbled. 

"Oh, please," Barton drawled. 

“I’m not sure I wanna sit through whatever half-ass show you two can scrape together,” teased Tony.

“I was in the circus,” Barton responded, rolling his eyes. “I’m a natural performer.”

“If you say so,” Tony answered, still unconvinced. 

“You sure about this?” Steve asked.

“Absolutely. Come on, Cap. I can do this.”

Steve bit his lip, but nodded. “I trust you.”

Barton whooped, leading a less enthused Barnes over to the door. “Shake and bake?” the smaller man laughed, holding out a fist.

Barnes let out a long sigh, but dutifully fist bumped back. “Shake and bake.”

And by God, it worked. Tony only wished he was down in the sewers just to see the look on Loki’s face. From what Steve had told him, it was pretty priceless.

Turns out the deadly duo of Barnes and Barton run that play all the time. Whenever Steve needs info on another mob, the two pounce, relying on the weaker minds of their enemies. Barnes scouts ahead, cornering and killing one of the easy targets. Then Barton swoops in, cleans the body of anything useful, like a handkerchief, a ring, or in this case, a fake tooth that they had kept from Rumlow. Anything to use as proof for the opposite gang. See, Barton, being raised in the circus, was taught that “seeing is believing.” A pair of deft hands and some slippery language was all Barton needs to convince anyone he was a double agent. Barnes and Barton let themselves get caught in the middle of a firefight, Barton guns the other down, and begins his interrogation process. Turns out that Barton supposedly belongs to over twelve different mobs, and Barnes has died a lot more times that anyone knew about.

Something told Tony, however, that usually these interviews yield better results. Barton was pacing up and down the room, biting at his fingernails with a tight face.

“Clint?” Steve prompted again. “How bad is it? What did Loki say?”

Barton scratched at his head before finally coming to a halt. “It’s really bad. Like really, really bad.”

“Well, that’s always good to hear,” Sam sighed, rubbing at his face.

“Did he tell you The Monger is?” Tony asked.

Barton shook his head. “No. The Monger isn’t HYDRA, he’s only working with him. Some sort of criminal consultant. No, Loki didn't mention him much. Instead, he let another name slip. I think it’s the guy running HYDRA now.”

“Who is it?”

Barton took a breath. “Pierce.”

Tony could almost feel the tension skyrocket in the room, everyone in it freezing, no one daring to say a word. “Pierce, you said? I can have JARVIS run a trace. I mean, there’s probably hundreds of options in New York, but we can probably narrow down a few- ”

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve said quietly. “I know who it is.”

“You do? Is he another mob man? If he’s running HYDRA, he’s gotta be a prominent figure, but I don’t think I have any files on anyone named Pierce.”

Steve looked at him solemnly. “That’s because he’s not part of any other mob.”

“Then who is he?”

“Pierce. Alexander Pierce.”

Tony frowned. “Why do I think I’ve heard that before?”

Steve rested his head against his hands. “Because you have. Because Alexander Pierce is the head of the NYPD.”

Alexander Pierce sat in his office, looking down at the mask of The Red Skull before placing it back in its case.

“Do you think he’s dead?”

Pierce turned slightly, looking at Obadiah Stane. “It’s probably best to assume he survived. Barnes and Stark were there; they probably pulled him out.”

Stane grunted, but didn’t reply.

Pierce clenched his jaw. “Did you hear me? I said Stark was there. You told me they were done.”

“They were,” Stane hissed. “Tony hid out for a few days after the news spread about The Captain’s name, and then as soon as he came back, he’s been doing nothing but working out of the office. I never even saw him go home. We must have missed something.”

They did miss something; he missed something. Pierce had sat idly by when Tony Stark released the name of ‘Joseph Grant.’ While Pierce was the only one who knew it was fake, he didn’t comment, just thinking that Stark had gotten it wrong for once. Was it really just an act the whole time? Were Rogers and Stark ever enemies?

Part of him wanted to confide in Stane, and tell him the truth about Steve Rogers, but he knew he could never trust the man. Besides, he had no use for Rogers anymore anyway. Loki had told him where Rogers said the SSR kept their files. The Captain was just as expendable as the rest of them now.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Pierce continued. “We’ll adapt.”

“We need to get a hand on those files,” Stane responded. “Why haven’t we gone and gotten them yet?”

“I sent Laufeyson in first. And, since he hasn’t returned yet, it’s safe to say that I was right and The Captain left men there to stop him. Hopefully they’ll be too distracted by his mind games to keep a watch on it. They'll let their guard down and we can sneak in this week and take it all before they decide to move the files.”

“Agreed,” answered Stane, standing up to leave. “Keep me informed.”

“I’m not finished,” Pierce said, gesturing for the man to sit back down.

The man frowned, but slid back into the chair, crossing his arms. “What is it?”

“It’s time for you to pull your weight. You promised me Stark wasn’t going to be a problem anymore, but yet he is.”

Stane raised an eyebrow. “What are you asking me to do?”

“Kill him.”

Chapter Text

“Will you relax? You know he doesn’t answer his phone when he’s on patrol.” Natasha walked over to Clint, trying to cease the man’s pacing.

“Relax? Are you listening to the same conversation that I am? Alexander Pierce, Natasha. The Chief of the NYPD. The same NYPD, might I add, that Phil is currently working at!”

Steve stepped in, blocking the man’s path. “Yes, this is a very big problem, Clint, but we can’t do anything about this now. Phil’s made it this far keeping out of the spotlight, I think he can handle one more day. Wait until he gets off shift, and bring him back here, okay? I promise you, we’ll do everything we can to keep him safe.”

Clint gave a small nod, but Steve could tell it wasn’t enough. Steve sighed. “Why don’t you go out and shadow him? Just until he’s out of uniform. You’re not going to be of any use here; might as well give your mind some peace.”

Clint relaxed, shooting Steve a toothy grin as he raced towards the door. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll bring Phil back in a few hours.” 

Steve reached out and grabbed the other man before he got too far. “Stay outta sight, and do not engage, you got that? I’m serious, Clint. We’ve kept Phil under the radar this whole time; the last thing we need right now is you blowing his cover because of this new info. You need to trust that Phil can take care of himself, okay?”

Clint deflated, but nodded, heading out the door quickly and silently.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Bucky’s voice sounded behind him.

“He’d have gone whether or not I gave him permission. Better just try and get him to keep his head on straight.”

Bucky nodded. “Want me to follow?”

Steve shook his head. “Clint’s a professional. I trust him; sending you after him would send the wrong message. Besides, we need to deal with this.”

“How exactly are we gonna deal with this?” Sam piped up. “Because, Steve. The Chief of the NYPD? I know we’ve taken on a lot of challenges before, but this….we’re in over our heads.”

“Well, we can’t exactly leave,” argued Tony. “If The Commandos disappear, how long before Pierce and the rest of HYDRA run rampant through the rest of New York. We’re the only thing standing in their way. It doesn’t matter if we’re in over our head; we don’t exactly have a choice anymore.”

Pride swelled in Steve’s chest. Tony was right; they were the only ones qualified to handle this. There was no other choice. “Tony’s right. Pierce doesn’t change anything. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not leaving until the remainder of HYDRA is buried alongside the rest of them.”

“You sure you want to punch your way out of this one?” Natasha argues. “We can’t exactly go to war against the NYPD. We don’t know who’s dirty, who’s clean.”

“We should wait until Coulson gets here,” said Bucky. “If anyone will know anything, it’s him.”

“That brings up a problem, doesn’t it?” asked Tony.

Steve looked over at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he started. “Coulson’s our man on the inside now. We’re not going to want to pull our last remaining link to HYDRA, especially now that we know his boss is in charge of the whole operation. But.”

“But Clint will go mental if we let him back into the firefight,” Steve finished, deflating slightly as he rubbed a hand across his temple. “Let’s wait until Phil gets here. Until then, there are things we can do. Thor, try and get anything else out of your brother. I highly doubt it, but who knows, he might be more willing to talk now that we’ve got leverage now. Nat and Sam, we need inventory on what we’ve got, what we need. That goes the same for you, Bruce. I have a feeling that we’re gonna need some more medical supplies.”

The four of them nodded, walking towards their respected jobs. “What about me?” Bucky asked. Steve bit his lip. It was still a struggle for Steve to let the man out of his sight each day, wanting nothing more than to lock him up to keep him safe. But their friendship had been so strained, with Steve fretting constantly over him, and Bucky fuming over Steve’s mother henning.

“I, uh, actually require your services,” Tony interrupted. With the other two men giving him a confused look, Tony continued. “Come on, Barnes, you’re gonna love it.”

Steve and Bucky followed Tony through the lengthy hall and down a winding staircase. As they walked down, Steve’s eyes darted everywhere, taking in the new area. While he’d never been down there personally, Steve had seen Tony sneak down there a couple of times, murmuring something about a lab.

Steve wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he was met with large glass panels at the bottom of the stairs, but he couldn’t help but smile when the lights flickered on as the three passed through the glass door. Because the lab? It was all Tony. Completely contrasting with the rest of the speakeasy that remained a style from the past with its old wood and dark walls, the lab looked almost white. Sleek tables littered in papers surrounded the lab, the walls lined with cabinets still half open from where Tony had dug around through them. Whiteboards covered in Tony’s scrawl hung on the walls, while random contraptions of metal that only Tony could understand sat in all the only available free space. Steve could see a small mini fridge in the corner with a small cot shoved alongside it. If Steve had to guess, that cot saw more nights than Tony’s actual bed did.

Steve loved it. The lab was so unbelievably Tony. It stuck out like such a sore thumb compared to the rest of the building, but Steve couldn’t imagine the speakeasy without it. It was just like Tony, standing tall next to The Commandos.

“Wow,” Steve found himself saying.

Tony flashed him a grin. “You like? Had to gut the place myself. Howard’s style didn’t really fly with me. Now, it’s a perfect paradise to escape for a few hours.”

“Or a few days,” Bucky murmured, looking at the cot.

Tony rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, genius waits for no one. Now,” he continued, making grabbing hands at Bucky. “Come here.”

Bucky shot him an unimpressed look, but slunk forward. Steve watched as Tony circled Bucky, as if stalking him, his eyes darting all over. “You checking me out, Stark?” Bucky teased.

Tony scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not my type.”

“You have a type?”

“We all do,” Tony murmured, glancing over at Steve. Steve couldn’t help but blush, looking away from the intense stare. “Now. Hold on to your hats gentlemen, and be ready to be amazed.”

Tony walked over to the far lab table that was covered in a sheet, before ripping it off. Steve could barely hear Bucky’s gasp over his own.

It was an arm.

It shone brightly under their gaze, the silver limb sparkling under the lab lights. “Well,” Tony started. “This is the part where you say something.”

Steve flushed, looking over at Bucky, who was just gaping at the arm. “Is-is that?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Come on, use your words.”

“It’s an arm,” Bucky whispered. “Is it for me?”

“No, Barton wanted an extra arm to hold his coffee. Yes, it’s yours.” When Bucky didn’t answer, Tony pushed on. “I’ve been working with Bruce so we can get it attached to your nervous system. If our math is right, and let’s be honest here, it always is, you shouldn’t be able to tell which one is made of metal. And, I mean, the possibilities are endless. This is just the prototype, but I figured that you would want one as soon as possible. It might carry a little heavier; I haven’t had the right alloy shipped in yet, but I promise, that- oof-“

Tony was cut off by Bucky snatching him into a tight hug. “Oh God, you’re gonna kill me. This is the end, isn’t it?” Steve smiled at the pair, blatantly ignoring the wetness that started to form at the edge of his eyes.

“You built me an arm,” Bucky whispered.

“Well, you kept moping around! What did you expect me to do?” Steve watched as Tony hesitantly place a hand along Bucky’s back, patting it awkwardly. Bucky tensed, as if finally catching up with what predicament he was in, and jolted back. Steve could barely contain his laughter as he watched his friend sputter. “I, okay, well, that-that’s, um, great? I-I’m just gonna- ” he broke off, running out of the lab.

Tony glanced over to him, but Steve just shook his head. “Give him time to process,” he said. “He doesn’t really do the whole feelings thing. When we were in middle school, he volunteered at the hospital just because he was too scared to the dance with this girl. He’s got a real way with words, doesn’t he?”

Tony snorted. “I always thought he was such a smooth talker.”

“Not when it matters,” said Steve. When they were younger, Steve wouldn't hesitate reaching out to Bucky, asking him for advice on what to say. Bucky was suave and grew into his body fact, quickly elevating his status on the school grounds. It seemed like he could day anything on the school grounds to make the girls swoon. But it was just for fun, a complete facade based on empty words and quick smiles. Enough to work on the common crowd, but not those closest to him. It had taken years for Bucky to muster out the strength that he considered Steve his best friend, the brunette biting his lip and kicking at the ground, as he wasn't sure his admission woud be taken well. “He can talk his way out of any crime, but God forbid that man actually says he likes you,” Steve laughed. 

Tony chuckled slightly, leading Steve back out of the workshop. “Good to know The Winter Soldier has his weaknesses.”

“We all do,” Steve responded. He followed Tony out, but pulled the man back before he could walk up the stairs. Tony looked at him with wide eyes as Steve stroked a thumb over his hand. “Thank you,” he said softly. “This means the word to him that you did this.” It means the world to me, was left unsaid. 

Tony flashed him a smile. “Just trying to be a team player. I’m going for employee of the month,” he chided.

Steve barked out another laugh, pushing Tony up the stairs. “You’re an ass,” he laughed.

Tony shot a fierce grin over his shoulder as he charged up the stairs. “You wouldn’t have it any other way, Cap.”

Steve found himself stumbling on the steps. “No,” he stated, mostly to himself. “I really wouldn’t.” He bit his lip to try and stop him from smiling as he raced up the rest of the stairs to catch Tony. Trailing back into the main room, he found that everyone had regathered around the police scanner.

Shit, he thought to himself, speeding over to the rest of the group. “What’d Clint do?” he asked.

Natasha shook her head. “Wasn’t Clint. It’s definitely HYDRA.”

“They’re attacking one of my shipping warehouses,” Tony grit out, his hands balling into fists.

“Loki was right,” Sam added. “HYDRA found out that Stark was still working with us and retaliated.”

“We need to do something,” Tony snapped, already looking at Steve.

“Aye,” answered Thor. “Stark is with us now. His people are ours.”

Tony shot the blonde a shocked look, but didn’t comment. “Alright,” Steve said. “Bruce, watch the joint. Everyone else, let’s roll out.”

People shoved past each other as they grabbed everything they could carry. Guns were loaded and boots were tied before everyone was running out front, piling into huge vans. Sam sped down the street, listening to Tony’s clipped directions. Steve watched as Natasha handed Bucky an already loaded gun so he wouldn’t have to fumble with his one arm. Thor looked gravely out the window, his fingers dancing over his extra ammo pack. Steve felt Tony nervously tap his leg in the car, the blonde shooting a hand out, placing it on his knee.

It was a short drive, but tense; the air was almost cackling with tension from its inhabitants. Sam pulled up in front of the warehouse, the windows already lit up from gunfire. The van was barely in park before the team piled out, charging for the entrance before a spray of bullets had them diving behind large crates.

“We know who’s behind this?” Steve shouted over the gunfire.

“Does it matter?” Tony shouted back, already loading his own sidearm. “If they’re shooting at us, I think it’s safe to assume that they’re not on our side.”

Steve snorted, but looked over Tony’s shoulder at the impending battle. Turning back around, he faced the rest of his men. “Call it, Captain,” Tony prodded.

“We’re a man down, so Tony will fill in for Clint. Go with Sam and Bucky round the back; you need to try and get us the high ground. Thor, you’re with me. We’ll charge through the front and let Nat flank through the side. Keep tight against cover, avoid civilian casualties, and no heroics, you got that? Watch the others’ back, and they’ll watch yours. We good?”

The team nodded at him, stern concentration written across all of their faces. Nat took off to the right instantly, Sam and Bucky backing up, getting ready to charge around the back. Tony stood up, intent on following the other two, but Steve grabbed his shirt collar.

“What?” Tony said, his voice barely heard over the crackle of gunfire. His eyes almost looked aflame in the warehouse lights, his hair manic from where he had ran his fingers through. The gun fit perfectly in his hands, his callused fingers steady on the grip and trigger. His clothes were old, wrinkled and covered in grease, no doubt the same outfit he’d worm the past two days. A fine sheen of sweat had formed on his brow, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he panted through his adrenaline rush.

He was beautiful.

Making up his mind, Steve surged forward, capturing Tony’s lips in his own.

While Steve had thought about this moment lots of times, never once had he pictured kissing Tony in the middle of a firefight. In fact, it probably wasn’t a good idea, considering the kiss must have looked downright awful. Steve’s force almost pushed Tony on his ass, the movement causing Steve to catch more chin than mouth. When Tony finally got with the program, their noses bumped and teeth clacked as they tried to press further upon each other. There was no push and pull, just take, take, take, as the two men fought for dominance.  

But to Steve? To Steve, it was perfect.

Tony’s hands wound around his neck, his rough fingers threading through the hairs on the nape of his neck. The scratch of his goatee was a welcome sting across his face, complementing the smooth glide of Tony’s tongue. One of them barely had time to take a breath before the other was on them again, taking more and more, never getting enough.

It was too soon before Tony was pulling away, his eyes almost black. Steve almost whimpered, trying to pull the other man back in. Tony huffed out a small laugh, the warm air bouncing off his lips before he dragged Steve back into a surprisingly gentle peck. “Later,” he winked at Steve. “Don’t you have work to do right now, soldier?”

Steve squeezed his hand one last time before pushing Tony towards the door. “Later,” he agreed, cocking his gun.

Steve watched him go before turning back into the building, blatantly ignoring the smug look that Natasha was sending him. Fight first, Tony later. The sooner they finish up here, the sooner he could go home. And then, Tony. Easy.

If only things were ever that simple.

Chapter Text

“You’re already ba-fuck!”

Steve watched as Bucky jolted on the lab table, his body springing up like a tense coil. Right behind him stood Tony, in the middle of what looked to be surgery on his new arm. Even though he was wearing obnoxiously large goggles, Steve knew he was shooting Bucky his patented glare. “I told you not to move,” he grumbled, leaning back over the arm. Bucky huffed back at him but complied, stilling under Tony’s prodding.  

“How many was it this time?” Tony drawled, this time at Steve.

“Five,” he frowned.

Bucky furrowed his brow. “They can’t even muster up a dozen anymore? You think they’re finally running low on numbers?”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know what they’re doing. But whatever they’re up to, it can’t be good.”

It had started last week, with the first attack at one of Tony’s warehouse. Steve would have been lying if he said he didn’t enjoy any of it. The thrill of the fight, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. It was the closest he had ever felt to being his normal self in a very long time. Even with Tony added to the crew, everyone just clicked. They were one unit, moving swiftly and deadly through the entire warehouse. He should have known then that something was wrong. That is was almost too easy for The Commandos to slice down those numbers that quickly. But all he could see was Sam’s outlandish victory dance, Bucky’s long forgotten smile, Tony’s kiss-ridden lips. Maybe he had wanted to believe that for once, they had the upper hand again. That for once they were able to pull a move back on HYDRA.

He should’ve known.

Because it was within mere minutes of getting home, when Steve wanted nothing more than to smother Tony up against the nearest wall,  the brunette had received a call that someone was attacking his shipyard.

That was five days ago. Ever since then, a new warehouse was constantly getting overrun by HYDRA’s forces. As soon as Steve and his men would race out to help, there would be two more problems waiting for them. Steve actually had to call Clint back in to help before he had a chance to talk to Phil. With the increased criminal activity, Coulson was putting in the extra hours as well, so there was no free time to snag the officer to ask him about Pierce. Steve knew it was driving Clint up the wall, but until they figured out what was going on, it was out of their hands.

HYDRA was up to something, he just couldn’t figure it out. There were never overpowering numbers when they got there. No close calls, no explosions, no hostage situations. The attacks were less coordinated, sloppy even, and so unlike HYDRA’s usual M.O. It was driving Steve insane.

After the first few days, Steve decided it best to split the team, always having a backup option if something else went wrong before the other team got back. It was actually Tony who asked if Bucky could stay back with him and Bruce to try out his new arm. With the increased threats and activity, they couldn’t afford to be a man down.

It was almost surreal, how fitting Bucky’s new arm was. The shiny metal contrasted greatly with his pale skin, but the size and movement just flowed with the rest of his body. It was if it was just paint covering an actual, flesh arm. Steve had never thought of it until he had seen Bucky’s arm, but Tony was one hell of an artist, in his own way. While of course, Steve had been worried over the initial installment, what with Tony and Bruce having to connect the arm to the nerves in Bucky’s upper shoulder, he knew it was all worth it when he saw Bucky’s eyes light up as he picked up his rifle again.

“Only five you say? Did you even break a sweat?” Tony smiled.

Steve snorted. “Barely. Clint had just rounded up two before the cops showed up to deal with the other three.”

Tony leaned away from Bucky’s arm, putting his tools down. “Anyone hurt?”

“No,” Steve said with a shake of his head. “Something’s not right. This is too easy.”

Bucky hummed. “HYDRA usually wouldn’t go around wasting their numbers like this. I mean, we’ve had to have taken care of over fifty people in the past week. The police will be running out of cells soon.”

“Maybe they’re really desperate. Or a distraction?” Tony pondered. It was a valid theory. From what Tony had told him, there wasn't anything of value at the hit targets. Anything of importance was stored deep in SI's research and development vaults, all financial information locked on Tony's secure servers. Some of the locations did store some of the company's weapons stocks, but they were never touched. It was as if the men attacking were there only to bring chaos, damaging equipment and attacking employees. 

“Maybe,” Steve agreed. “But for what?”

The amount of armed men that started laying siege to Tony's empire was astounding. There was no other reason for that to be happening besides HYDRA; but if the rival gang was able to pull these numbers for what seemed like milk runs, who knows what else they have in store. 

“Who knows what goes through their heads,” sighed Tony. “Alright,” he continued, patting Bucky on the back. “You’re all done. Don’t go too crazy; my baby needs time to adjust to your Neanderthal body.”

Bucky rolled his eyes before hopping down from the lap table. “Yes, mother,” he said, dashing out of the lab. Steve smiled after him before looking back at Tony who was giving him an odd look.

“You look like you could use a nap,” the brunette smiled, 

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Or a few,” he agreed.

“Why don’t you?” replied Tony, nodding towards the door. “We’ll handle the next one that comes in.”

Steve shook his head. “Not until the job’s done.”

Tony smiled again, eyes crinkling slightly. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a workaholic?”

“Pot, meet kettle,” answered Steve, shooting him an unimpressed look.

The two fell into a silence, one staring at the other. Tony cleared his throat, looking away to start putting his tools away. It was odd, seeing him clean up after himself. Tony never put away his tools, leaving them laying about, waiting for the next use. "I'm a visual learner, Steve," he had said. "I like being able to see everything." Steve had initially rolled his eyes, claiming that the man was just lazy, but now he wasn't so sure. In between their recent quarrels with HYDRA, Steve found himself repeatedly ending up in the lab - the room quickly becoming his favorite in their new home. It had started as him staying there as a support for Bucky, but Steve stayed for the pure enjoyment of watching the man work. 

It was often overlooked by others, Steve included, how brilliant Tony was. When he was younger and working for the SSR, he had always been awed be Howard's intelligence. Steve could see now that he wouldn't be able to even hold a candle to Tony. Watching the man dart around the lab, performing a dance that only he knew was breathtaking; Steve found himself with him sketchbook in his lap more than once. It was there he started to notice that Tony actually needed to be able to see anything. The man would wander from table to table, stopping in front of a tool and staring, his mind no doubt spinning any and all possibilities. Tony would multitask, jumping between SI work, Bucky's arm, and his own personal projects as easy as breathing. Whatever he was working on was dependent on what he saw, the item in his hand solving the next step on his unending list of projects in real time. He'd never seen anyone draw inspiration from a single lug-nut until he met Tony. 

So, to see the man start to tidy up was almost wrong. He was stalling. Steve shifted a little closer, his moments hesitant. It wasn’t awkward between them, per say. It’s just that they hadn’t had a lot time to come to terms with what happened at the first attack. With everything else happening, there has only been a handful of times that Steve has found himself alone with Tony, and each time that he's there, he doesn’t know what to do.

Tony stopped his movements and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, not doubt amused by his awkwardness. He seemed to take pity on Steve, however, stepping closer as well. Steve was just about to put his hands around Tony’s hips when a shrill chirp sounded through the room. Tony sighed, letting his forehead fall onto Steve’s chest. Blindly, he reached behind him, his hand wandering aimlessly across the table for his phone. Steve snorted, pulling Tony closer as he reached his own arm out, pushing the phone into Tony’s questing hand.

From the groan that emanated from the smaller man when he looked down at the screen, Steve already knew what it was about. “Pepper?”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed. “Apparently five armed men just tried to attack my assembly plant. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“First I’m hearing about it,” Steve quipped, small smile adorning his face.

Tony huffed softly. “I need to go in to the office. HYDRA’s hit everything in the New York area. I gotta talk to my people, see if I can prepare them for if HYDRA starts attacking on a national scale.”

Steve frowned, but found himself nodding. “You should take someone with you.”

“No, I’ll be fine," Tony dismissed. "What if there’s another attack, Steve? You might need everyone. Besides, I’ll be at the office. Nothing gets past my security.”

“I did,” Steve responded.

“They only let you in because of your looks,” Tony chided.

“If you say so,” said Steve, a small smile playing on his lips as he rested his cheek in Tony’s hair. “You’ll be safe?” he asked quietly.

Tony pulled away to look up at him. “Absolutely. I can’t hide down here. I need to do everything I can to keep our people safe.”

Steve rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, blushing slightly. “I like it when you say our people,” he stammered.

Tony bit his lip and reached out, grabbing Steve’s shirt collar. He moved deliberately, giving plenty of time for Steve to move away before pressing their lips together. It was slow, almost chaste, their lips molding together. Steve sighed into it, relaxing into the comfort of Tony’s embrace. Just like the last, it was over too soon, Tony leaning away with a quick nip to Steve’s bottom lip.

“As much as I would love to stay, I have a feeling that I did, I’d never make it to the office.”

Steve shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen.”

Tony laughed, leaning up to give Steve a final peck. “I’ll be back soon. Go get some rest.” Steve watched him saunter out of the lab, blatantly ignoring the sway of his hips.

After flicking off the lights, Steve trudged back up the stairs to the main room, where Bucky was showing off his new arm to the rest of the crew.

“Dude, you’re like one bad haircut away from being the next Terminator,” Clint was saying.

Bucky smacked him on the back of his head, Clint squawking as the metal made contact. “Ass,” he muttered.

“Steve,” Sam called him over. “Your boy Stark does some nice work. Think he’ll make me something if I ask nice?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, shaking his head fondly. “What the hell could you possibly need?”

“Listen, a brother’s got to impress the ladies somehow.”

Steve huffed, ignoring him. “We have to talk about these attacks,” he said, sliding in to one of the chairs.

“What do you think HYDRA’s angle is? These attacks don’t make any sense. Some of them are heavy, but the next one will be complete shit. All of them have accomplished nothing. What’s their play?” asked Sam.

“Well, if HYDRA has all of these men, there’s always the potential for different attack styles,” Natasha offered.

“None this drastic,” Steve retorted. “They’re fighting as if they're completely different units.” The thought hit him like a ton of bricks. “Maybe because they are different.” He knew something didn't add up, he knew something wasn't right. 

“What do you mean?”

“The attacks. What if they were all done by different people?” 

Clint furrowed his brow. “Why would HYDRA do that?”

“They wouldn’t. Because it’s not HYDRA,” Steve whispered.  

“It’s not?” Clint asked. “Who else is there?”

“Everyone,” answered Bucky, no doubt on the same wavelength as Steve. “This isn’t Brooklyn we're dealing with. This is Manhattan.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that we’ve been foolish to think HYDRA would be our only problem. There are mobs everywhere in the city. Each of the hits, they weren’t from the same mob. They’ve all been from different ones,” Bucky responded.

“It makes sense,” said Natasha. “The constant attacks, the endless amount of hired guns. Something must have happened if every mob is coming after us. We must have something they want.”

“Could it be the files?” questioned Sam.

Steve shook his head. “I don’t think so. If HYDRA knows about the SSR files, I don’t think they’d have blabbed that information to everyone else. It’d be a bloodbath.”

“Maybe it’s the weapons,” Clint added. “Stark weapons are the best on the market; mobs would go crazy at a chance to get those.”

"If they were after Stark weapons, you'd think that they would try a little harder," Natasha replied. "So far, they haven't been able to take anything." 

“Well, we better figure it out quick, because Stark is out of warehouses. How much longer until they find something else to attack?”

Steve froze. Oh my God.

“What?” asked Bucky. “What is it?”

“Tony’s warehouses,” Steve breathed, heart pounding fiercely against his rib cage. “We’ve been so blind.”

“What about them?”

Bucky sucked in a breath, catching up with Steve. “Natasha's right. If they wanted Tony's weapons, they would have made harder attacks at his stocking locations. That wasn't what they were doing. They were just there to cause a scene and draw us out. It was never about what was in the warehouses. It was about who owned them.”

“They’re not coming after us,” Natasha replied with a grim face.

“They’re coming after Tony,” Steve finished. Without a moment’s of hesitation, Steve grabbed his phone and was out the door, racing towards Stark Industries.

Chapter Text

"How much did we lose this time?" Tony leaned back in his chair, a hand running over his tired face as he waited for an answer from the surrounding board members.

"Not much," answered Obie. "There weren't any weapons laying around, so the shipping containers took the brunt of the attack. Damages like that can be replaced."

"Does it look like I care about some boxes, Obie? Tell me what I want to know."

Obie shifted in his seat. "Only four dead this time. There have been worse- "

"Only? You make it sounds like it's okay that I have four employees dead after today," Tony snapped. 

"It could have been a lot worse," Obie sighed.

"Right, what could be worse than having to call four families saying that someone's not coming home for dinner?"

He still remember making the call from the last two that had been killed, massacred by HYDRA. Husband and wife butchered on their way to work. He was no stranger to death, but trying to explain over the phone to the husband's brother what happened was nearly impossible. They were bio engineers for God's sake - Tony had recruited them to start data mining for the potential of starting a market in the medical field. The Parkers were brilliant, and passionate, starting ventures in medical technology advancement. They were good, innocent people - they probably didn't have a stain on their entire record. Except that they worked for Tony. And apparently that was enough to put them in danger.  

"You could be calling five families," a voice filtered in from down the table.

Tony clenched his jaw. How dare you, Tony thought, glaring at the older man. Maybe this was the reason Pepper wanted him to come to board meetings. To come and see the greedy warmongers he let run his company while he turned a blind eye to keep tinkering in his lab. "I wouldn't say that," Tony responded. "There's a high chance that I'll be calling your family tonight," he hissed. 

"Tony," Obie hissed beside him, grabbing for his arm. 

Tony jerked away, galking at his CFO for not backing him up. The balding man just stared back, and Tony could almost hear the look say, "Shut up and smile. Keep the board happy." 

Tony rolled his eyes, but obliged. "Do we know who's behind it?" he asked, changing the subject.

There were a few mumbled answers. "HYDRA? There have been whispers about them," one said loudly enough. 

"Please," Obie snorted. "HYDRA isn't out there. It's just a scam started by the cops to keep the other mobs from running rampant in the streets."

Tony opened his mouth to object before someone else said, "What about the Captain? He's tried to take out SI before."

"It's not him," Tony said quickly, on instinct. 

"What makes you so sure?" Obie asked. "You guys aren't exactly friends."

If only you knew, Tony thought. "If The Captain was behind this, then all of the warehouses would have burned at the same time and I would have washed up on the shores of the Hudson already. He's a one-and-done kind of man. He wouldn't drag this out. It doesn't matter who did it, we just need to deal with it. This is a problem and needs to be handled immediately."

"Tony, we're already doing everything we can," Obie placated. "We've called all the branches, we increased security protocols and hired more guards."

"That's not good enough!" Tony roared, fists pounding on the table in front of him. "Our people are dying out there, Obie. Some are already turning in their resignations because they're too scared to come in to work. What kind of company can't even protect its own employees?"

"Tony, my boy," Obie started, clapping a hand against his shoulder. "The board and I will handle this. You just do what you do best, and keep that brain running. Show people that we can still deliver in the middle of a crisis, okay?"

Tony frowned, but let Obie usher him from his chair and walk him towards the door. "Fix this, Obie," he said. He got another pat on the back before he was pushed through the door, the heavy wood closing firmly behind him.

He walked back to his office slowly, his thoughts heavy. He trusted that Obie would get the job done, but he could only pray that he get it done it time. He cracked open the door to his office slowly, intent on calling Pepper when the sudden burst of activity on his security man’s radio stopped him.

"What's going on?"

The guard leaned down listening to his radio. "There's a situation on the main floor. We'll take care of it, Mr. Stark."

Tony furrowed his brow. "What kind of situation?"

"Someone is trying to gain access without identification."

Tony froze. Steve had warned him about this. Maybe he should have brought one of The Commandos with after all.

He scoffed. Fuck this, he thought. If the same people who were attacking his warehouses were down there, making a clear run at headquarters in public, who was Tony to sit upstairs and stay quiet. He'd give them a real show and end it all right here. He found himself moving to the elevator, brushing off the guard's hand, clamoring in the lift. If security catches who it is, it could be the potential lead they need to stop the rest of the attacks. He just hoped that he wouldn't regret not bringing his gun. 

The elevator dinged as he reached the main floor, the doors opening smoothly. Tony had barely stepped out of lift before he heard the shouts.

"You don't understand, I need to see Mr. Stark! Get out of my way!" Tony stumbled immediately, tearing off in a run. I know that voice. 

He flew around the corner to see Steve struggling with five armed guards. "Stop!" he cried out, racing towards the crowd.

It was almost comical to see the group freeze, their heads all whipping towards Tony guiltily.

Tony ran up and pushed the hands off Steve. "This isn't necessary. He's with me."

"Sir, he doesn't have any- "

"I said, he's with me," Tony snapped. He pulled Steve away from them, dragging him back into the elevator, fingers jamming the 'Close Door' button before the rest of his security could follow. 

The doors had barely shut before Steve was on him, pressing him tightly against the far wall, his hands tracking up and down his sides, as if looking for an injury.

Tony pushed the man away and slammed the emergency stop button, the elevator screeching to a halt. "What the hell, Steve?" Tony hissed. "You can't just show up here. It's not safe for you!"

"Are you alright?" Steve pressed, completely ignoring Tony's comments. "Anyone try to get in the building?"

"Besides the crazed mob boss in front of me? No, no one's been in or out that isn't supposed to."

Steve relaxed, his defenses dropping. Tony raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You gonna tell me what all of this is about?"

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, face flushing in embarrassment. "We had a breakthrough. We don't think it's HYDRA going after the warehouses. We think it's a bunch of smaller mobs doing the targeting."

"What the hell would they be after?" asked Tony, crossing his arms defensively.

"You," replied Steve grimly. "You're the only connection between each of the attacks. They're after you, Tony."

"Me? What good am I?"

Steve frowned, inching closer again. "You know the answer to that. You know how much you would be worth to people like them."

Tony gave a small smile, hands sliding down the front of Steve's shirt. "So you came down here guns blazing for little old me?"

"I think you know the answer to that too," Steve whispered, giving him a small smile. 

Tony huffed out a laugh, dragging Steve's mouth to his. Oh, how Tony could write odes to that man's lips. How despite that they belonged to a hardened shell of a man, the lips always remained soft and smooth, always inviting. Tony sighed, trying to push deeper when Steve pulled away, Tony giving a small noise of disapproval.

Steve's eyes softened as they met his. "What is this?"

Tony furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? I think it was pretty obviously I'm trying to make out with you in an elevator."

Steve shook his head, his hand tracing Tony's beard. "I mean us. What is this? What are we doing here?"

Tony bit his lip. This was not the time or place for this. If Tony had his way, there would never be a time for this discussion. Tony didn't do feelings. Tony could argue the validity of abstract math theorems, but through emotions at him and he's basically useless.

"Steve, I- "

"It's just, we haven't really talked about it. And, don't get me wrong, I'm very happy about the direction this is going, but I can't... I lost you once because of secrets and miscommunication. I need you on the same wavelength as me if we're gonna do this."

Tony rubbed a hand down Steve's arm. "Why do we need to label anything? Can't we just see where this takes us?"

Steve closed his eyes, contemplating. "I need more than that Tony," he said softly.

Tony thread their fingers together. "Listen to me. This isn't last time. I'm not going anywhere; I'm not leaving your side. You need more? Know that I'm just as invested as you are, Steve. I've never had this before, either. Just know that I'm here, with you, right now. And I don't plan on going anywhere."

Steve squeezed their hands together, kissing Tony's forehead. "Okay. Good," Steve replied, Tony able to feel his smile against his own skin. "Can I ask a favor?"

Tony hummed. "Name it and it's yours, Cap."

"You've got quite a price on your head in the criminal community. I'm sorry to say, that as the head of The Commandos, I'm going to have to kidnap you and bring you back to our base for interrogations," he said, eyes twinkling. "Probably extensive ones, I might add. I'm just wondering if you'll come quietly or if you're going to put up a fight. I hear you're a wily one."

Tony chuckled, releasing the emergency stop, pressing the button for the garage. "I guess it depends if resisting will be more favorable to me."

Steve bit his earlobe teasingly. "It could be," he murmured.

Tony shivered, plastering himself against Steve. "Sounds enticing. Although I'm sure the whole damsel in distress thing has its perks as well."

"Oh, it does. It's a win-win for everyone," Steve laughed. The elevator stopped and the pair got out, walking towards Tony's car. "Come home with me?" Steve asked, holding the door open for Tony.

Tony smiled, slipping in gracefully. "Of course. The board's already kicked me out. I'm all yours."

He saw Steve smile as he hopped into the passenger seat. The drive back to the speakeasy was silent, but comfortable. Tony couldn't keep the sappy smile off his face as Steve grabbed one of his hands about halfway through the drive, gently rubbing shapes into his skin. Tony parked a few blocks away, opting to walk the last few leaning against the hard plane of Steve's warm body.

A familiar jingle of the bell and Tony was opening the door to Yinsen's shop, intent on stopping to chat with his old friend.

Which of course, was the plan, before three SUV's came tearing out around the corner, screeching on their brakes in front of the Sharma shop. Steve immediately placed himself in front of Tony, throwing the first punch before the first assailant had finished opening the door.

Tony barely had time to think before he entered the fray himself, pulling a man off Steve's back onto the ground. Of course, it was no time before he felt himself being overpowered. He hadn't had his gun, and Tony was in no shape for dealing with a small army.

"Tony!" Steve shouted, still fighting off his own hoard valiantly. "Tony, you need to run!"

Tony landed a good punch, clipping another man with an elbow, intent on pushing away. A cry of pain had him freezing in his tracks as he watched Steve fall to the ground, out cold. Tony raced forward, towards the fallen man, but hands were grabbing him again. He struggled, pulled, yanked his way closer to Steve until he felt a small prick in his neck, everything slowly fading to black. 

Steve groaned, his head pounding as his eyes fluttered open. He tried to move around, only to find himself zip-tied to a chair. Even his feet were secure against the legs of the chair. The last thing he remembered was the assault, and Tony was there, and then- Steve winced as he remembered the pipe that had come down on his head. Steve could only pray that Tony had fled while he had the chance, going for backup.

Looking around, Steve could only guess he was in some run down building, virtually indistinguishable in New York. It was completely empty except for the chair he was in, another chair across from him, and some barrel pushed off to the side. It was dimly lit, moonlight barely seeping in from the large windows along the far wall. Steve sighed, trying to stay relaxed. He was no stranger to playing prisoner, even if that meant getting beat around a little bit. His team could come. Tony would come, he knew it.

Steve barely had time to work on wearing down the zip ties before the door on the left burst open, a stern looking man walked in.

Steve rolled his shoulders. He could do this. This man was getting nothing from him.

"Ah, Captain," he jeered. "Finally awake. I was wondering if my men had actually killed you or not."

Steve ignored him, eyes tracking over the man's body instead, looking at what he was up against.

"Not a talker? Don't worry, we'll get right down to business then. You see, Captain, I need something from you. There's been whispers on the street about you, and I know that a lot of people will pay top price for what you know. I need your name, Captain."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm sorry to say you'll be disappointed then. So, come on. Show me what you got. You'll be getting nothing from me."

The man patted his cheek. "I intend on doing just that. You see, you might be willing to sacrifice yourself to stay quiet, but tell me. Are you willing sacrifice your friend?"

With a snap of his fingers, the door burst open again, two armed guards dragging another body in.

Steve's world stopped.

It was Tony.

No no no no no no no no no.

The guards tossed the brunette in the chair across from Steve, Tony's movements sluggish in retaliation. Drugged. Steve forced his body not to react, blatantly ignoring the way his brain was screaming at him.

"I'm sure you're aware, Captain, that a bounty has been put on Mr. Stark. But not for his weapons, not this time. It was because of you, Captain. You see, new word on the street says that you're not enemies, but the closest of friends. Now, I'm going to ask you again. What is your name?"

Steve clenched his jaw.

Steve knew, as the first punch landed, that it wouldn't be the visual that haunted him for the rest of his life. It would be the sounds, the ones that he that he heard, the ones that he didn’t. Tony just sat there and took it. It was sickening. He didn't bat an eye as they pummeled into his ribs, bruising, if not cracking them. At each slam to the face, Tony would just try and smile, offering a cheeky remark to let Steve know that he was still fighting.

It didn't become unbearable until they started cutting. It didn't look like much, just little flicks of their knives here and there. Along his collarbone, the inside of his thighs, down the stretch of his arms. It took Steve too long to figure out that each cut just went that much deeper. That after each cut, they'd dig back in, moving the blade around the open wound. It was then, where Tony fell back into silence, only to speak again, not with words, but with pained groans. A small moan here, a tiny gasp there. They were quiet, Steve barely able to pick them up. That after everything, Tony was still trying to be strong for Steve.

"Thinking of reconsidering?"

Steve blinked, not even realizing the beating had stopped. After a while, Steve had focused in on Tony's eyes, making sure that they were still open.

"Don't tell them anything, Cap," Tony slurred out, his head rolling against the back of his chair. "I got this," he tried to smile.

No you don't, Steve thought. Tony was stronger than Steve could ever imagine, but there was no way he could keep this up. No way that he should have to. Not on Steve's watch. He needed to do something.

"Let him go and maybe I'll tell you." It was out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

Their captor laughed. "Please, Captain. Don't be naive. Your name, now."

Steve closed his eyes, praying that Tony would forgive him. He needed more time. His team needed more time.

"Fine then. Get the hammer."

Steve stared as one of the thugs went over and picked up a hammer. The other cut Tony's bound hands, stretching one out in front.

Steve and Tony arrived at the realization at the same time, both men struggling against their binds.

His hands, Steve thought wildly. An engineer was nothing without his hands. There was no way Tony could survive without them. He knew Tony thought the same if they way his wide eyes and shouts to the guards meant anything.

"Wait," Steve said softly.

It wasn't enough, as the hammer was swung down, two of Tony's fingers crushing loudly. Tony's scream echoed through the room, the man struggling harder against the thugs as they brought the hammer down again. Steve’s chest was heaving, his brain in overdrive as it screamed at him to help.

“Did we hit a nerve?” a voice filtered by his ear, a grimy finger brushing along his cheek, picking up a drop of wetness in its path. Steve didn’t realize he had been crying, but he chastised himself. Tony was over there getting a beating of a lifetime, and Steve was the one that couldn’t hold it together. He just played into their hands; now they knew it was working.

“We’re almost there. Grab the knife.”

Steve watched in horror as they threw the hammer away, picking up a large machete instead. Ignoring the mangled mess that was Tony’s left hand, they stretched out his right, not even waiting for a command before cutting right below his wrist. Slowly.

Steve jolted in his chair again. ”Stop!” he cried, trying desperately to get free. They were going to cut off his hand. Steve was gasping now, his eyes blown wide. Tony was going to die. Steve was going to let him die.

“I need more than that, Captain.”

“Don’t do it,” Tony whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming.

“A name, Captain!” The knife cut deeper, showing bone. Tony gurgled, closing his eyes in resignation. “Do it,” their captor said to the guard. Steve stared as the machete was raised high into the air, one guillotine slice away from making Tony an amputee.

I’m sorry Tony.

“WAIT!” Steve shouted. “It’s Joseph Grant! My name is Joseph Grant. I told you, now please, don’t hurt him.”

The machete dropped. Steve pointedly didn’t look at Tony’s hand that was gushing blood. Their captor snorted. “And you call yourself a mob boss. You’re weak.” The man leaned down, inches away from Steve’s face. “And you’re a liar.”

Steve’s blood froze over. They knew it wasn’t his real name. “You think anyone’s falling for that parlor trick anymore? The name that Tony Stark released to the public doesn’t mean anything when you are still allies with the man.”

One of the thugs moved away from Tony. Steve braced himself, thinking the man would go back for the knife, but was surprised when he pushed the heavy barrel forward until it stood innocently in front of Tony.

The captor sneered at Steve. “The real name. Give it to me.” Steve looked at Tony who shook his head minutely. He made a move to respond as well, but was cut off as his head was shoved in the barrel.

Immediately, Tony tensed, head thrashing in the barrel as water slipped over the side. He was drowning. “I’ll kill him,” the voice of their captor hissed. “Tony Stark means nothing to me. I will kill him in front of you and you’ll take it to the grave knowing it was all your fault.”

Tony was drowning. Tony was dying. Suddenly, Steve was back in the ice, but this time, he was on the other side, watching as Tony screamed, his mouth open side at is searched for air. There was no time to think anymore. Steve didn’t care.

“Stop!” he screamed. “I’ll tell you, just let him breathe!”

“You know, I don’t think you will. I think you’ll lie again.” Tony was pushed further into the barrel.

Steve watched in pain as Tony’s struggles grew more manic. “I won’t! I promise,” he cried, tears streaming down freely. “I won’t lie, just let him live!”

“That’s not an answer.” Tony’s trashes turned into twitches, getting slower by the second.

“STEVE!”

A pause. “What was that?”

“Steve,” he whispered brokenly as Tony's body stilled. “My name is Steve Rogers.”

There was a nod and Tony was thrown out of the barrel and on to the floor. Steve knew it was him that moaned softly as he watched Tony cough up lungfuls of water, gasping for a full breath. He was alive. That was all that mattered.

“You’re a disgrace,” was whispered at him, but Steve didn’t care. His eyes never left Tony. Never left the fact that his eyes were open and he was breathing. The guards threw him back into his chair, retying his hands behind him. Not that it mattered. Tony wasn’t putting up a fight.

Steve thanked every God he knew of when the three men left the room, leaving Tony and Steve alone. As soon as the door shut, Steve opened his mouth, but stopped as he watched Tony jut a leg out and hook it around Steve’s chair, using what little strength he had left to drag himself to Steve. As soon as he was within range, he leaned forward until his head pillowed into Steve’s chest. Steve curled down immediately, needing more proof that Tony was alive under him. He felt Tony tremble from the cold as Steve placed searing kisses along the man’s neck, not caring as new tears spilled over onto his skin. Tony's damp hair had him thinking back to the river, but he refused to pull away. The only wetness he felt that had him reeling was the smearing of blood onto his skin every time the smaller man shifted. Tony's blood. Eventually, Tony's whimpers ceased, tremors lessened, his breaths evening out. Still, Steve pushed closer, offering every inch of heated skin that he could. He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, Steve crying as Tony rocked him slightly.

Steve was the one to finally break the silence. "I never said I was sorry."

Tony moved his head minutely against his chest. "Hmm?"

"I never told you."

"Steve."

"I don't know why," he continued, cutting Tony off. "It's not that I wasn't, because God, Tony. When you left, I couldn't...I was so horrible to you. And now this? Look at what I've done to you. This is all my fault. If I never sought you out in the first place, none of this would have happened. You would have been safe. I'm so sorry, Tony. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm- " Steve broke off with a quiet sob, pressing his face into Tony’s hair.

He felt Tony pull away, only to be surprised as the man stumbled out if his chair, falling forward until his full weight strattled Steve's thighs, Tony's body curling into his chest.

Steve wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the man, cradling him close. He settled for burying his head into Tony's neck, wet tears smearing across the tan skin. He could hear Tony shushing him softly, his lips pressing gently under his ear. "It's okay, it's okay," Tony whispered, making Steve tremble harder.

Tony pulled back. "Look at me." Steve clenched his eyes shut in response, but eventually relented to Tony's prodding. Looking up at Tony, Steve was reminded of how awful he looked. The parts of his face that wasn't mottled in bruises were pale and drawn, both blood and water drying in his hair.  "Everything that's happened," Tony started, shaking his head slightly. "Everything we've gone through. It was worth it. You were worth it."

Fresh tears poured over Steve's cheeks. "Why?" he asked brokenly, voice cracking.

"The same reason you told them your name," Tony replied with a soft, knowing smile. "You asked me earlier, what we were. But, I don't know how to quantify this. All I know is that I don't... I-I can't..."

"I can't lose you," Steve finished, pushing his head back into Tony's chest.

A long silence stretched between the two of them, before he heard Tony snort. "We're both a couple of fucking saps, you know that?"

Steve found himself laughing. "You started it," he responded, voice muffled by Tony's clothes.

Tony hummed quietly. "Well, Captain, how do you suppose we get out of this one?"

Steve sighed, looking back up at Tony. "Have faith. The team will come for us."

Tony nodded, leaning down slightly. Steve tilted up immediately, not even hesitating to connect them together when a huge crash sounded, the window behind them shattering.

Tony fell to the floor, Steve's head snapping around in alarm at the sound. He heard Tony scramble to stand up, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from what had flown in through the window.

A bomb.

It looked almost innocent, the way it lay in the shattered glass. A small trail of smoke emitted from the back, partially covering the large 'STARK' written in white, block letters.

Steve barely had time to react. He heard Tony shout an expletive before the man was jumping in front of Steve as the bomb exploded. A burst of heat had both him and Tony flying to the floor, and then there was nothing.

"-eve?!"

Steve blinked, pain coursing through his body as he struggled awake the second time today. Around him, the building was in shambles. His body felt like one entire bruise, his brain starting to panic when he couldn't get himself to move. That was until he looked down and found himself still tied to the chair, now sprawled across the ground.

“Steve!”

“Buck?” he managed to croak out.

A familiar figure danced into his view, Bucky’s hands making quick work of the zip ties.

“What happened?”

“There was a bomb. Come on, we need to get out before the building collapses.”

Steve let Bucky pick him up, but faltered. Something wasn’t right. Something was missing.

Tony.

“Tony?” he asked.

Bucky pulled him towards the door. “Come on, Steve. Let’s get you to Bruce.”

“Where’s Tony?” Steve asked, dread filling his veins.

Bucky ignored him again, just kept trying to pull him towards the door. Steve yanked away, grabbing Bucky by the front of his shirt. "Where's Tony?"

Bucky looked back at him gravely. "He's gone. They took him." 

Chapter Text

He was on fire.

The flames coursed through his veins, scorching through his body.

There were hands on him, pulling, scratching, taking him away.

There were voices, shouts.

Maybe that was him. Was he screaming?

He couldn’t tell over the roar of the flames.

They were yanking at his chest now.

A thousand knifes pierced his skin, the weight crushing his bones.

Every tug to get away was almost worse than doing nothing.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe this was hell.

And then, like a candle snuffed out, the fire was gone.

Darkness.

His eyes felt wide open, but the black never left.

The fire was gone, but the weight remained.

The cold, crushing weight that consumed him, locking him in place.

The voices were gone.

A constant breeze passed over him, the whooshing sound bouncing across the wall.

A broken wheeze from pipes sounded along with it every now and them.

Oh, wait. That was him breathing.

A drip from a leaky pipe echoed in the room, echoed in his head.

But there was no one there.

He was alone.

Except for the darkness.

This was what death was. 

No.

This.

This was hell.

“How is he?”

“He’s in shock, but he’ll be fine with proper rest.”

A blanket is thrown over him.

“Steve?”

“I brought you something to eat. Bruce made it, so you know it will be edible.”

A disk clanked next to him.

“Steve?”

“When was the last time you slept?”

A hand brushed against his forehead.

“Steve?”

“Don’t worry, Cap. We’ll find him.”

A firm squeeze on his shoulder.

“Steve?”

“Come now, brother. Your warriors need your guidance.”

A soft sigh echoed through the room.

“Steve?”

“Enough of this, punk. Get your ass up; we need to end this.”

A flash of metal glinted against the light.

“Steve?”

“This is bad.”

Clint’s hand twitched on his gun. He glared over at Sam. “Really? I didn’t notice,” he hissed.

“Easy,” Bucky said to his left. “Starting fights is the last thing we need right now.”

The three of them peered back down the hall, at the door of Steve's continually silent office. Within the room sat their boss, most likely in the same position that he was in the last time Clint went in to check on him. The same position he'd been in for days. Sitting in his desk chair and staring at an unseen scene in front of him. 

“Well, what do you suggest?” Clint responded. “It has been three days, Buck. Three days and we have no leads on Stark and a half catatonic mob boss!”

“He’s in shock, Clint. You can’t expect him to bounce back from everything,” said Bruce, walking out of the room they were keeping Steve. Bruce didn't shut the door completely, leaving it cracked open. It was a habit they'd gotten into, setting the door open just enough for them to catch a glimpse of Steve as they walked by his office. Just to make sure he really didn't do anything stupid. 

It had been a legitimate concern they had when they first brought Steve back after rescuing him in that burnt out building. In their defense, the last time a bomb had went off, Steve made some less than ideal decisions, ending up with them in the middle of a shitstorm with Thor's brother and Steve freezing in the bottom of a river. But it wasn't anything like last time. 

There were small signs that it would be, with Steve yelling at Bucky with a familiar crazed look in his eyes, pleading with him to find Tony. But soon after he collapsed unconscious, whether being from distress or the concussion he suffered in the blast. When Steve finally woke back up, it had taken him one look around the room for him to realize that Tony was still missing. And from then on, just silence. Deafening silence. 

“He didn’t eat?” asked Bucky, looking down at the tray in the doctor’s hands. Bruce shook his head and Bucky sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “He won’t talk, he won’t eat, he won’t move. I have no idea what to do.”

“Something must have happened at the warehouse,” inserted Natasha.

“Well, no shit, Nat! A bomb went off in there!”

“Then where did Stark go? Steve was asking for him when we got there, so he was obviously there at one point.”

“You don’t think,” Clint started, ice forming in his veins. “You don’t think they killed him in front of Steve, do you?”

While Clint thought that The Commandos were some of the strongest people he'd ever met, he knew that each of them suffered from the same weakness: each other. It wasn't as if it was an easy fix - Clint knew that they were stronger together, but he would be blind to see that it couldn't be used as their biggest downfall. It was strange, as when they'd first collected as thieves and murders, it would have been laughable to Clint that he would consider them family, let alone trust them. But here he was, years later, so interwoven with the rest of the group that now he couldn't imagine leaving any of them behind. Steve was not immune to this affliction; recent events solidified that he was in the same boat as the rest of them: he would do anything to protect them. 

But with Stark, it was... different. The first blossoms of their relationship were known to everyone by now; if they hadn't seen Steve and Stark getting hot and heavy at the warehouse fight, they were definitely filled in by the gossip of those who had. Clint would be lying if he said he saw this coming. He wasn't sure anyone would have - well, except maybe Natasha. He's pretty convinced she knew before Steve and Tony did. 

It wasn't as if he didn't agree with it, it was just surprising. Clint had had inclinations that Steve swung for both teams, but he'd never brought it up with the other man. When he first started with The Commandos, Clint had just assumed that he wasn't out to the rest of the team. He went so far as to assume Steve was a closeted homophobe. Of course, in order to prove his theory, Clint ended up blurting that he was gay during the first dinner he was invited to with the rest of The Commandos. What he hadn't excepted was Steve to just smile and say, "Okay, Clint. Will you please pass the bread?" 

And there went that theory. Clint did see that there were a few members of the group that didn't appear to appreciate his statement. But he hadn't ever got a chance to confront them, as when he went to go look for them the next day, they were nowhere to be seen. All he did see was Steve, giving him another smile and a tight nod. He should have known that if Steve was willing to accept him being a deaf, homeless hitman, he wouldn't have a problem with him being gay.

So logically, it shouldn't surprise him that Steve and Tony would end up together. Stark, having lived in the public eye his whole life, has had his romantic preferences out in the open for a long time. Both men were objectionably attractive with similar backgrounds; adrenaline junkies with sordid pasts a knack for guns and had criminalistic hobbies - which, now that he thinks about it, checks off a lot of boxes on his own list. To a third party, the pair of them falling into bed together just made sense. 

But it didn't. Steve doesn't date. Never. 

After the internal homophobia ideal didn't pan out, Clint just assumed that the whole dating scene just didn't seem to interest Steve. Which was hard enough to believe - the man was an artist that still believed in the value of khakis, for God's sake. He just screams Hollywood romantic. It wasn't until Bucky let something slip that Clint figured it out. 

There had been somebody before. A woman. Before The Commandos - during the reign of the SSR, he imagined. Clint didn't push any further - he knew better than anyone that were just some things were just meant to stay buried - but since then, there hadn't been anyone else. Turns out Steve didn't have a problem falling for people, it was just when he did, he fell hard. 

And with Tony it hadn't been any different. Except this time, he didn't have any time to revel in it before Tony was ripped away from him. 

God, Steve. 

“The dead leave bodies, Clint," Natasha negated, pulling him from his thoughts. "Why bother hiding the body from us? If anything, they’d want us to find him.”

“That brings us to the second question of the hour,” interjected Sam. “Who’s they? We don’t think they’re HYDRA, so who could it be?”

“Any functioning mob in New York,” answered Bucky. "Tony Stark is a golden goose." 

Sam groaned. “Perfect. So we know nothing.”

“If Steve won’t talk, then Tony is the only one who knows what happened there. We need to find him,” said Clint. For both his and Steve's sake. 

“Only Stark knows,” mused Thor, leaning back in his chair. “He was at the warehouse with The Captain, and now he’s not. Steven won’t even talk about what happened. What if Stark was in on it? What if he was the one who- ”

“No,” Bucky snapped. “You cut that shit right or you can leave. Stark wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that to Steve.”

“Bucky’s right,” added Sam. “Stark is one of us now. He’s proven that enough.”

“So we’ve got nothing,” whispered Clint. All eyes turned towards Bucky. “What do we do?”

“The only thing we can do. Bruce and I will stay with Steve to see if we can get him talking. Everybody else, you need to start canvasing. Get in touch with your contacts and find us something useful. Got it?”

Chairs scraped along the wood floor in answer, everyone scrambling to find answers. Bucky’s arm reached up and grabbed Clint before he took up the stairs with the others. “Yeah?”

“You talk with Phil?”

Clint nodded, biting his lip. “I told him what happened. He said nothing’s changed at his end. Pierce still doesn’t know about him.”

Bucky nodded. “Good; let’s keep it that way. Keep him safe, okay?”

Clint shot his friend a jaunty salute, before tearing up the stairs, his fingers dancing across the phone’s screen.

Meet me in our usual spot.

Clint jogged across the street, darting around traffic as he scanned the street’s crowd. It was always a shock, seeing the normality of it. People stopping for coffee, kids running to school, patrons cramming on the bus. Clint’s world was crumbling around him, but as soon as he walked upstairs, it was if nothing was wrong. It was just your average Tuesday.

But that was how it always was.

It was like thinking about smoking. There are thousands of articles, books, even stories about smoking. About how bad it is; about how it kills. It’s not like people aren’t aware of the implication; the evidence is everywhere. But people still line up every morning in the convenience store to get a fresh pack of cigs anyway.

People knew about mob activity, but they still stepped out onto the streets every morning.

But that’s life. It didn’t matter what happened, the world would still turn. Why not just buck up and turn with it?

Clint slipped away from the crowd, darting down the back streets until he reached his destination. The train yard was quiet and still, looking like a graveyard for the old box cars. He hopped over a chain-link fence, landing in the overgrown weeds that had infiltrated the abandoned space. Clint stepped onto the tracks, walking in between the cars, eyes sweeping over each one.

“I could hear you breathing all the way across the yard,” a smooth voice sounded behind him. “Out of breath already, old man?”

Clint snorted, turning around. “I would watch what you say about old men with hair like that.”

Pietro pouted at him, running a hand through the silver that had already sprung up on top of the brown. “It makes me look more mature,” he replied, his faint accent filtering through the breeze. “Women like mature.”

“Which is why you’re still single,” another voice replied. Wanda stepped out from behind the next car, walking over to the two men. “You might look mature but as soon as you open your mouth, the women go running.”

Clint laughed at the exchange, not missing as Pietro smacked his sister on the shoulder.

“Clint,” Wanda smiled.

“Wanda,” he smiled in return.

“What do you want?”

Clint clutched at his heart in fake dramatics. “What, I can’t come visit my favorite twins?”

Pietro shot him a blank look. “We’re the only twins you know.”

“At least you don’t have to worry about competition.”

Wanda rolled her eyes. “Clint.”

“Fine,” Clint sighed. “I have a job for you.”

“And we would help you because?”

“Because I’m your favorite Commando?”

Wanda picked at her nails. “I don’t know, I quite like Sam.”

“Wanda,” Clint whined. “This is serious. I really need you guys on this one.”

Wanda huffed. “Fine. What can my brother and I do for you?”

“One of our men has been kidnapped. It wasn’t HYDRA; it was one of the mobs here in Manhattan. I need you to help find out who took him.”

Pietro shrugged. “Should be easy enough.  Who are you looking for?”

Clint bit his lip, wondering if he could get around without telling them. “Tony Stark.” he conceded.

Wanda bit out a laugh. “Are you joking? No. Absolutely not. If Stark got nabbed then that’s on him. It’s about time he finally get wiped off the map.”

“Wanda, he’s not a bad guy- ”

“Coming from a criminal, that doesn’t mean much. Stark deserves what’s coming for him. We’re not helping.”

Clint's hands balled into fists unconsciously, as if preparing to defend their newest employee. He should have known it wouldn't have taken Stark long to weave himself in with the rest of his family. 

“Please,” Clint begged. “You know Stark is on our side.”

“Stark’s on his own side,” Pietro snapped.

You don't know him, Clint thought viciously. But he had no choice here. He couldn't lose any extra chance on finding Stark. 

“I am begging you, here. I’ll give you anything; you’re the only people I know that will get me that answers I need. If you won’t do it for me, then do it for Steve. The only reason I’m out here asking is because Steve is wasting away because Stark is gone. The man is broken. So do it for him. You guys owe him that much.”

Wanda looked over at Pietro, having a silent conversation.

“Please.”

Wanda slumped her shoulders. “Fine. We’ll poke around, but as soon as things start to get hairy, we’re out of there. I don’t want either of us tangled up in this mess.”

Clint beamed at her. “Thank you.”

He watched the pair dart off, quickly disappearing within the yard. He started to backtrack himself, heading back to the speakeasy. Knowing the Maximoff twins, Clint would have Stark’s location by the end of the week.

He would fix this. He would save his family. All of them.

Chapter Text

“Can you at least make it look like you attempted to eat this?” Bucky pushed the bowl closer to Steve, who was staring at the wall of pictures in his office, just like he’d done for the past few days. “Come on, man. Nat made this, and if I go back out there with the full meal, she’s gonna kill me. And yes, you heard right. Natasha made this. You know things are bad when that women goes anywhere near a kitchen.”  

Still no response.

Bucky sighed, walking over until he crouched in front of Steve. “Listen, Clint’s got the twins looking in to this, Steve, but they’re not going to find much if you won’t tell us anything. We need to find Tony. Help us find him.”

Steve’s eyes slid shut at the mention on Tony’s name.

“I can’t.”

Bucky almost missed it, the way it was uttered so quietly. “What do you mean you can’t? Steve, if anyone’s going to find him, it’s you. What happened at the warehouse?”

“I killed us all.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face. “Steve, buddy, you’re not making a lot of sense.”

“I told them, Buck.” Another whisper.

“Told them what? Another file drop? Steve, that shit isn’t a top priority anymore. We’ll work it out, just like we always do.”

“My name. I told them my name.”

Bucky’s breath hitched. That couldn’t be true. Could it? Steve’s name had been a trade secret ever since the SSR was finally taken out. It was Steve’s idea, but it was the one that guaranteed their survival. If HYDRA had known that the SSR’s shining star had survived the final fallout, they’d barely live to see the sunset. It was better this way; constructing a new identity until Steve had enough forces to take out HYDRA once and for all. When everything was said and done, the pair realized it was just easier to keep up the charade. The looming name of ‘The Captain’ gave Steve the street credit he needed to raise The Commandos to the top tiers of New York’s mob scene, and no one on the outside ever found out about the valuable secrets that Steve still had access to.

“They know who you are?” Bucky whispered incredulously. “What about the aliases?”

Steve breathed out a hollow laugh. “They knew Grant was a lie. They knew that Tony was always on our side. They knew everything.”

“And you gave them your name? Why?”

Steve sent Bucky a cutting look, answering the question for him. Bucky knew that Steve, as well as the rest of The Commandos, were trained for hairy situations such as kidnapping and ransoms, but Bucky could imagine how their latest enemy could have gotten a little creative to get answers. Especially since they had Stark to dangle in front of Steve.

“Did they kill him?” he asked.

Steve bit his lip, but shook his head softly. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. But, the bomb…”

Bucky leaned back on his heels, letting everything soak in. This was worse than he could have possibly imagined. HYDRA was already nipping at their heels, but the introduction of a new mob was the last thing they needed right now. And, considering what they’ve managed to accomplish in the past week, Bucky couldn’t even begin to think how they were going to get out of this one. “Okay,” he said, nodding to himself. “Well, let’s get to work. Problem’s not gonna solve itself, right?”

He stood up, offering a hand to Steve, but it was quickly slapped away. Seeing that Steve had finally made eye contact with him, Bucky could finally look into the haunted look in his eyes, the planes of his face, covered in red blotches. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“Just a minor setback,” Bucky tried to reason. “We’ll get through it. We always do.”

Steve was laughing again, that harsh and broken sound, like an instrument out of tune. “You don’t understand. It’s over. We’re done for.”

“Steve, I- ”

“They know my name, Bucky!” Steve roared, sending the chair he had been sitting in across the room.

Bucky held his hands up, trying to calm his friend down. “Steve, HYDRA, already knew your name. What’s one more mob?”

“Because I watched this one mob beat Tony to a pulp. I watched this one mob drown him within an inch of his life. How long until one more mob turns into two? Into three? Bucky, we’ll be lucky that we last until the end of the week before the rest of New York’s criminal system comes knocking down our door demanding my blood.”

“Then we’ll deal with it. We can protect you.”

“I don’t give a shit about me, Buck! They’re going to kill you. They’re going to mow down every single one of you just because you know me. Don’t you get it? I’m a poison. With the decisions I've made in the past month, its a miracle that anyone ever thought that I could lead them. I mean, HYDRA almost killed you, Buck! I got our home destroyed, I got us loved with Loki, I gave out SSR secrets! And was that enough? No. No, now I gave them my name." 

"You were doing what you thought was right," Bucky whispered. "You're only human, Steve."

"No, I'm not," he answered, giving a broken laugh. "I'm death. My name brings nothing but death, Bucky, and now you, Tony, and everyone else is gonna die because of me.”

The silence that followed Steve’s outburst seemed more deafening than the previous shouting. It was always moments like these where Bucky saw how Steve was never cut out for being a mob boss. That he was meant for something more than that life he was currently living. He was so passionate, and had so much to give the world; it seemed that hiding in the shadows and living a life of crime wasn’t one for him. But the fact that it wasn’t meant for him and he was doing it anyway was such a Steve thing to do. Bucky always knew the real reason Steve was born past his due date was because he was too stubborn to come out of the womb.

“If you had the choice to do it over,” Bucky started. “If you could go back in time and stop yourself from giving up your identify. If you could stop yourself from dropping everything to be someone new just to stop HYDRA, would you do it? Would you go back, change everything, so you could keep your name and just walk away? Start a new life far away from New York City?”

Steve looked away, tears threatening to spill over his ashen cheeks. “No.”

Bucky clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Then trust that we wouldn’t change our minds either, Steve. It doesn’t matter how bad this is going to get for us. We’re not leaving. It’s time to get your head out of your ass, because you’re stuck with us. You might as well work with us.”

Steve snorted despite himself, his hand wiping away at his nose as he stifled. “We’re in a real mess, Buck.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve always worked better with real drama. Now, come on. We’ve got work to do.” Bucky led Steve over to the door, first leading the blonde over to the desk, glaring at him until Steve finally got the memo to pick up the meal and bring it with.  The pair made their way over to the exit when Clint came bursting in, looking frazzled.

“Oh, you’re up,” Clint fumbled, before his head finally caught up with seeing Steve active. “Wait, you’re up!”

“What is it?” Steve demanded, ignoring Clint’s initial outburst. “The Maximoff’s. Have they found Tony?”

Clint turned grim. “Not yet, but they’re still looking.”

Bucky furrowed his brow. “Then what’s with all the commotion?”

“Because that’s not all,” Clint continued. “I just got off the phone with Phil. I asked him about Stark.”

Steve nodded. “That’s good. If we plus the cops are out looking for Tony, it won’t be long before we find him.”

“But that’s just it. The cops aren’t looking for him.”

“Why the hell not?” snapped Bucky.

Clint shot them a wary look. “Because Tony Stark hasn’t been reported as missing.”

The constant ringing in his ears was what woke him. The pain that followed, radiating all over his body, had him wishing that he was anything but conscious. A noise followed, like broken glass, but it wasn’t long until he figured out that it was him that made such a grating sound.

Something cool was pressed up against his lips and Tony opened his mouth on reflex, almost sobbing in relief as cold water washed over the desert that had taken up residence in his throat. It was a mistake, one that he realized too late, to open his eyes. Harsh light burned into his retinas, scorching all the way inside his head.

“Shh,” a voice filtered into his ear, his head turning towards it immediately, despite the pain. It was a comforting blob to look at as his eyes slowly shifted into focus.

“Yinsen?” He tried to grate out. The man mustered up a small smile, his eyes crinkling softly behind his glasses. “Where- ” Tony started again, but Yinsen cut him off.

“Rest, Mr. Stark. You need rest.”

His head was swimming and his body was throbbing, but Tony pulled his head away to take in his surroundings. It was dark, so Tony couldn’t really see the extent of the room they were in. He appeared to be laid up on a small cot, not much different than the one he had holed up in his lab at the speakeasy. While looking around, he caught sight of one of his hands, or at least, he thought so. It was so bandaged that it looked more like a snowball than a hand. He looked back at Yinsen, who shot him a sympathetic look, before looking down. But he wasn’t looking at Tony’s hands.

In the end, Tony wasn’t really sure how he didn’t notice it right off the back. It had felt like a car was sitting on his chest, but Tony had played it off with the rest of the pain coursing through his body. No, it was the buzzing that got his attention. The constant whirring of electricity pulling his attention down to his midsection.

“I’m sorry,” Yinsen whispered to him, but Tony could barely hear over the roaring in his ears.

Tony looked down at his chest and screamed.

Chapter Text

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Steve ignored Bucky, barreling past the man and out of his office, leaving the room for the first time in days. He checked the waistband along his back to make sure his sidearm was still there as he took the stairs down to the main level two at a time.

“Steve, wait!”

Everyone else who had gathered downstairs turned in surprise, no doubt shocked that Steve was back with the land of the living. While Steve felt a small pang of guilt rush through him, he didn’t stop his path to the door. Tony hadn’t been reported as missing yet. How much time had they lost because the police didn’t even realize he was gone? How did no one realize?

A metal grip finally had him stopping in his tracks.

“What,” Steve hissed back at Bucky.

“I know what you’re going to do,” Bucky said calmly. “You’re stupid if you think that I’m going to let you.”

Steve could feel his blood start to boil. “Tony has been missing for days and the police don’t know about it. Are you telling me that you want the police to continue to not know about it? What the hell is your problem?”

As incompetent as Steve thought the average policeman was, there were still many times that Steve found himself relying on them. With them being on the right side of the law, they had access to to things that Steve couldn't even get a hold of. A high profile client such as Tony Stark would have the NYPD scrambling to put their best men on the case - this could even venture into FBI territory. And Steve depended on it. 

He had spent days going over the entire scene in his head, torturing himself over and over agin to find something, anything. But there was nothing - he couldn't sketch the faces of the man that took them, he couldn't remember what guns they were using, what accents they had. He couldn't picture anything. That was, except for Tony's blood on the floor, his moans as he was beaten, his stuttering breaths as he gasped for a full breath. His soothing words as his lips moved across his skin. 

"It's okay, it's okay." 

“Steve, you aren’t thinking straight!” Bucky snapped at him. 

“And you are?" he yelled back. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Sam called over, wedging himself between the two men that seemed close to blows.

“Tony hasn’t been reported missing by the police,” started Steve.

“And this dumbass over here wants to walk up to the station and deliver the news himself,” Bucky finished.

Sam furrowed his brow. “What do you mean he hasn’t been reported?”

“I just got off the phone with Phil,” inserted Clint. “He didn’t know anything about it. At first I thought it was because he doesn’t handle those cases, but this is Tony Stark we’re talking about. If he went missing, the entire world would know about it. I had Phil check the recent reports, and there was nothing.”

“Which is why,” continued Steve, “they need to be informed. We might have people out looking for him, but the police have resources we don’t have. I want every available set of eyes out looking to bring Tony home.”

Sam was silent for a moment. “Of course, Steve. But I’m with Bucky on this one. You can’t go down to the station.”

“Why the hell not?” Steve barked.

“Some random guy comes in to the station claiming that Tony Stark is missing. You think they’re going to accept that without asking questions? They’re going to want to know how you know, what your connection is to Tony, and where you were when he was missing. We have no cover story for you. How long before they match you with Joseph Grant?”

Steve blinked. “But I’m not Joseph Grant.”

“Do they know that?” asked Sam. “All they know is that Tony Stark dumped a mob man’s name on the internet; a name that the cops might have gotten hold of. Your story doesn’t line up; they compare some data, and boom. You’ll be thrown in the clink.”

“Besides,” added Bucky. “Pierce is still running the NYPD. You think that he’ll let you leave if you go waltzing in there? I understand you want to do everything to help get Tony back, we all do. But getting yourself thrown in prison is not gonna help anyone.”

Steve closed his eyes, letting his body thump against the back wall. God, he missed Tony. He would know what to do. Of course, it if were Tony, he wouldn't have found himself in this situation at all. 

He could still see Tony’s face as he saw the bomb land at their feet.

"Everything that's happened. Everything we've gone through. It was worth it. You were worth it."

Steve swallowed down a fresh stream of tears. He had failed before; like hell he was going to let it happen again. They took Peggy from him, but not again.

Never again.

“I’m not going to just sit here anymore, Buck,” Steve whispered. “I won’t lose him.” I can't. 

Bucky just smiled. “I said that you couldn’t report Tony missing. Why don’t we just ask someone else?” Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Bucky dragged him back up the stairs and through the door. “Come on; I’ve got a plan.”

They exited through the restaurant’s entrance, Steve frowning at the darkened room. “Where’s Yinsen?” he asked.

Bucky frowned. “There was security footage of when you and Tony were taken in front of the restaurant. Yinsen saw the whole thing. Our kidnappers saw him and were not too keen; they threw him in the van with you two. He wasn’t at the warehouse?”

Steve shook his head, his mind already racing to the worst possible scenario. Yinsen was just a witness; he was the odd man out in the equation. If Steve was on the other side, he could see Yinsen being of no use, a spare. Steve could only pray that another innocent hadn’t lost their life because of him.

“You coming?”

Steve startled from his thoughts, piling in the vehicle that Bucky had already started. “Where are we going?” Steve asked as Bucky weaved effortlessly though the streets.

“You’ll see,” he responded, his metal hand scratching at the shadow of a beard that threatened to form. It drew a slight smile to Steve’s lips. Although Bucky had been wary at first, he was so at ease with his arm now. Besides an intermittent barb from Clint here and there, no one treated Buck any different. As they shouldn't. Maybe it was the craftsmanship; how Tony had slaved over that arm to create such a work of art. Hell, sometimes it just looked like an arm that was just painted silver. Besides, seeing the surprised joy that crossed Bucky’s face when he could hold a gun again would be enough to warm Steve’s heart for decades. It was just another thing that Steve owed Tony; for bringing his best friend back.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered, tapping him on the shoulder. “We’ll get him back.”

Steve nodded, rubbing at his eyes. “Yeah,” he agreed.

The rest of the car ride was silent, but Steve couldn’t have been more grateful. There were probably hundreds of questions that Bucky and the rest of the crew wanted to ask him; here were a lot of questions he wanted to ask them as well. But Bucky kept his distance, focusing on the road ahead.

It wasn’t until the car had stopped that Steve finally knew where they were. Steve stepped out of the car, staring at the huge ‘STARK’ printed on the side of the building. He shuddered, instantly thinking about how he had seen those words just a few days before on a bomb.

“Come on,” Bucky said, leading him into the building and towards reception.

“What are we doing here?”

“Use your head,” replied Bucky, swatting Steve in the back of the skull. “Stark’s been missing almost all week and we haven’t heard a peep from his company. Don’t you think it’s odd that no one thought to ask about the man whose name is on the side of the building?”

How the hell did I not think of that? Steve thought to himself.

“Because you were too busy moping over your crush,” Bucky chided. “Once again, I’m the one who has to swoop in and do all the goddamn work for you lovesick teenagers.”

Steve blushed furiously, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the comment, or that he had been speaking his thoughts aloud.

“Can I help you?” the twig thin girl asked behind the counter, her voice almost as fake as the smile she flashed them.

“Uh, we have an appointment,” Bucky answered.

The girl looked down at her book. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Stark won’t be in for a few days.”

Steve frowned at that. “Where the hell do you think he is?”

She shrugged, her ponytail bouncing with her shoulders. “He’s just blocked out until next Tuesday.”

“That’s alright,” Bucky said, cutting Steve off from another comment. “We’re not here to see Mr. Stark anyway. We’re here for Ms. Potts.”

“And who should I say is asking for her?”

“Captain Grant,” Steve answered on impulse.

The receptionist looked at Steve warily, but made the call upstairs anyway. The silence that followed was awkward, with Bucky tapping his foot on lightly against the hard tile, Steve biting his lip as he watched the employee talk with Pepper Potts.

“She said she’ll see you,” the receptionist said, finally hanging the floor up. “Forty-seventh floor,” she said with a gesture to the elevator.

The pair piled in the elevator, listening to the hum of the machinery as they climbed to Ms. Pott’s office. “I looked at her calendar,” Bucky started. “It had Stark listed as unavailable starting the day you two went missing until next week. Did he say anything to you about taking off?”

Steve shook his head. “He didn’t say anything to me. Maybe he wanted to work on finding out who was attacking his warehouses? But Tony’s a multitasker. If he had another thing to take care of, he would just take that time away from sleep instead of skipping work.”

Bucky nodded. “Something’s not right here.”

The doors slid open smoothly, Steve debarking with Bucky as they headed for the frosted glass of Ms. Pott’s office. Steve walked up to the door and knocked, listening for a response. When he didn’t get one, he looked at Bucky, who rolled his eyes in return before barreling past him and into the office.

“Ms. Potts, I’m very sorry for my friend- ” Steve started before colliding with Bucky. He made a small noise, trying to right himself as he peered around what caused his friend to stop.

There on the other side of the office, was Pepper Potts, staring down at them over the barrel of her gun.

“Uh,” Steve stated.

“Shut the door behind you,” she hissed.

Steve complied and then raised his hands in the arm, Bucky mirroring him. “Ms. Potts, I- ”

“Don’t you ‘Ms. Potts’ me,” she snapped. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here, Joseph Grant. Or should I say The Captain?”

Shit, Steve cursed. Tony and Joseph Grant were still enemies in the eyes of the public. Of course Pepper would know. And of course, without thinking, Steve had just blurted his normal alias.

“Ms. Potts, I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding,” Bucky tried to insert.

The redhead cocked her gun. “Oh, I don’t think so. I should’ve known you were in on this as well. Who are you supposed to be again? Sergeant Proctor?”

“Please, ma’am,” Steve pleaded. “We need to ask you a favor.”

“I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Do you know where Tony is?” Bucky asked.

“Of course I know where he is,” she scoffed. “I sure as hell am not telling you.”

“Has he been answering your calls?” Steve tried.

Steve could see the surprise grace her face before the stony gaze returned. “Why does that matter?”

“Because I know he hasn’t,” continued Steve. “And I also know that Tony never misses your phone calls, because the one time he did you scheduled him with contract negotiations for a week in Canada just to get back at him.”

Pepper let the gun fall back to her side, eyes wide. “How could you know that?” she whispered.

“Because he told me,” Steve answered gently, a small smile slipping on to his face. “Just like he told me of all the times he tried to get you to quit, although he prays that you’ll never leave because he loves you. He told me that the one time that he saw you out of heels he actually called a physician because he thought you were sick. He even told me that how no matter how far technology has come, you will always hand write your reminders and appointments because it helps you remember better.”

There it was. The steel was gone from Pepper’s face, leaving a flurry of emotions and confusion. “I-I don’t understand,” she stammered.

“There are a lot of things you’ve been kept in the dark about,” Bucky replied. “And we’ll get to that. But first, we need your help.”

“My help?”

Steve nodded. “You see, Ms. Potts. Tony isn’t ignoring your call. He hasn’t answered because he’s been kidnapped.”

Pepper’s legs buckled, the assistant falling down into her chair. How she still managed to do so gracefully after the load that had just been laid on her was incredible. Steve could see her face crumbling, no doubt the same look on his face at some point this week.

But then, she got up. She straightened out her suit, marched over to the mini bar and poured herself a generous drink. Pepper stomped back over to the desk, took a swig, and sat back down in her chair. She gestured to the seats facing her.

“Tell me what you know.”

Chapter Text

Steve watched Pepper refill her drink for the umpteenth time, before continuing to rub at her temples. “So, you’re telling me that not only was the whole feud between you and Tony a fraud, but that he was in on it the whole time?”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve answered, twiddling his thumbs. He and Bucky had been in her office for the better part of two hours, slowly explaining everything that had happened between his crew and her boss. It was excruciating, but it needed to be done. Tony had told Steve that he trusted Pepper with his life; if there was anyone that could help them find Tony, it was her.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” muttered Pepper. “It’s just a little hard for me to wrap my head around this. I mean, shootings and bombs? The Tony Stark I work for may deal with mobs, but he steers clear of anything that could be considered that messy.”

“But it’s true,” Bucky almost whined.

"You're right," Steve continued. "It's not his usual MO, but HYDRA isn't only making plays against us. They're responible for the bomb that put Hogan in the hospital, as well as the murder of your employees."

Pepper nodded slowly, disguising the information. "Well," she said, smiling sadly, "that would be more than enough for Tony to get his hands dirty. He's destructibly possessive with those he cares about. But working with others?" she questioned, looking between the two of them. 

Steve huffed out a laugh. She knew Tony too well. “He did start off withdrawn, Ms. Potts, but even he didn't want to take any chances with HYDRA. Not after what they were capable of when he wasn't invested. He’s been a real asset in hunting them down; Tony’s provided endless data, weapons, not to mention the speakeasy- ”

“I’m sorry, the speakeasy?” Pepper interrupted. “He showed you the speakeasy?”

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yes. It’s where we’ve been basing our operations recently.”

Pepper leaned forward. “Tony never shows anyone the speakeasy. I haven’t even seen it; I’m lucky to even know it exists. Why the hell would he show it to you?”

Steve startled, staring at the redhead in confusion. He knew Tony's speakeasy was a secret, but by the way he'd write odes to Pepper, Steve just assumed that she would have been made privy. He didn't show Pepper, but he showed me, he thought to himself, feeling his cheeks start to heat. 

“I can think of a few reasons,” Bucky whispered under his breath.

Steve smacked him on the shoulder, but it was too late. Pepper had caught the comment, and by the way her eyes narrowed slightly, Steve knew that her brain was already putting two and two together. “I see,” was all she said.

“Ms. Potts,” Steve sighed. “We can sit here and talk all day about this, but we really need your help. Tony’s in trouble, and just sitting around here isn’t doing him any favors.”

Pepper’s expression darkened as she nodded slightly. “Are you sure it was kidnapping?”

“Yes. I saw it. I was there when they…” Steve clenched his jaw. “I was there.”

“You didn’t notice this entire time he was gone?” Bucky asked, steering the conversation away from that dreadful day. “You had no contact?”

Pepper pulled out her schedule. “Tony said he wasn’t going to be in the office until next Tuesday. I just assumed it was him trying to lay low and hide from you guys, because you know, you’re supposed to be enemies and such. Tony’s erratic like this anyway, so I didn’t even think twice about it; I can’t even tell you how many surprise trips to Paris we’ve had.”

“Tony asked for that time off?” Steve questioned. Had he been planning something? He sure as hell didn't mention anything to Steve. 

“Yes, he sent me an email saying he wouldn’t be in until next week.”

Bucky leaned forward in his chair. “An email? When did he send it?”

Pepper took out her phone, scrolling through her emails. “This past Monday morning.”

Steve shook his head, his heart beating erratically. “That’s not possible,” he whispered. “Tony was in the warehouse with me; we'd already been taken at that point. There was no way that he could have sent that email.”

Pepper paled. “Well then who did?”

“The kidnappers,” answered Bucky. “They must have wanted time before Stark’s disappearance went public. Maybe they had to move him somewhere more secure.”

"No, that's not possible." Pepper shook her head, biting her lip. “You don’t understand. Tony built all of our firewalls. Not even the Pentagon can crack through them; believe me, they’ve tried. There’s no way some second-rate mobsters managed to hack into a Stark Industries account, let alone Tony’s.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “What are you saying?”

Pepper sighed softly. “I’m saying, that an email like that only could have been made if the hacker was already through the firewalls. It could only have been made if they worked here.”

“Shit,” he heard Bucky whisper.

“Oh my God,” Steve moaned. “It makes so much sense. They snagged me and Tony off the street after I picked him up from the office the night before. They must have followed us from the office. It’s probably how they were able to locate and kill those SI employees earlier this month as well. You have a mole.”

“We have a mole,” Pepper agreed.

It was silent for a while, as the three thought. Steve’s insides were churching as his head screamed for blood. How one of Tony’s own was able to turn on him made Steve itch for his gun. It was if he was young again, discovering the rat that was walking within the walls of the SSR. He'd told them about it as well; but he could never find it and they'd all died anyway. 

But not this time. Adrenaline started pumping through his veins. He was finally getting the answers he needed. That meant they were catching up.

I’m coming, Tony. Just hang on a little longer.

“Well, that’s not something you find out every day,” Bucky laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “So, what now?”

Pepper downed the rest of her drink. “Now, you stay sitting and start thinking of a plan to get Tony back. I’ll get JARVIS to start decrypting that email; maybe we can back trace it. But first, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a quick phone call.”

“The police already know about Tony; I took care of it,” Steve said.

“Oh no,” Pepper replied. “I’m not calling the police. I’m calling Rhodey.”

“Rhodey?”

Pepper snorted. “Oh, you haven’t met him yet? You gentlemen better brace yourselves.”

“You’re late.”

Alexander Pierce drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk as he watched Obadiah Stane waltz into his office.

“Like you had anything else to do today.”

Pierce rolled his eyes. “Can I help you with anything, Stane? You’ve been behaving, haven’t you? No other bombs I should know about?”

Stane snorted. “If you only knew.”

Pierce narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?”

Stane leaned his hands forward to rest on his desk. “Nothing, really. I’m just here to inform you that I will be terminating our little agreement.”

Pierce jolted forward in his seat. That was unexpected. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

“Why the hell would you do something as stupid as that?” Pierce laughed.

“Because you lied to me,” Stane hissed.

“It’s my job to lie to people,” Pierce answered.

“Not to me,” the other man snapped in response. “Not about our little business deal.”

Pierce sighed. “Alright, then. Let’s hear it.”

“Two words. Steve Rogers.”

Pierce’s brain stuttered to a halt. How? He'd been so careful not to let anything slip - the name Steve Rogers was a relic. No one was supposed to care bout him. He was Pierce's for the taking. While his brain was screaming at him, he tried to remain unfazed. By the way Stane was smiling at him, however, Pierce knew that he had failed. “Who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Stane said, rolling his eyes. “You knew Grant wasn’t The Captain’s real name, didn’t you? That’s why you wanted him all to yourself, wasn’t it? I knew there was something you were hiding.”

Pierce tightened his fists. “Steve Rogers is not your concern. Only Stark is.”

“Oh, he’s my concern now. I know who he is, now. I know what secrets he has.”

“And you think you can get it?” Pierce laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

Stane shrugged. “It took me half a day to pry his name out of him. Because I have the one thing you never have: leverage.”

Pierce furrowed his brow. “What could you possibly have on Steve Rogers?”

Stane flashed a grin. “The one you left to me. Tony Stark.”

“You kidnapped your own CEO?” Pierce asked, gaping at the man.

“Tony needed to go eventually, you said it yourself; it’s nice that he can help out a dear old friend one last time before I off him. Besides, no one cares that he’s gone. I’ve had him for days and the public is still in the dark about the whole thing. Face it, Pierce. You aren’t running the show anymore.”

“You’re really going to turn on me? On HYDRA?”

“HYDRA is a broken shell of what it used to be. You lot were nothing but a stepping stone for me.”

“You’re going to regret this,” Pierce stated. “You don’t want us as an enemy.”

“The only thing you are is obsolete,” replied Stane, heading back to the door. “Good day, Chief.” And with that, he slammed the door behind him.

Pierce listened as the hours ticked by as he sat staring at the door. Stane knew about Steve Rogers. Any advantage he thought he had was gone now. What the hell am I going to do now? Finally, as the sun started to slip below the buildings, he buzzed the intercom on his desk. The door was reopened and a young officer stepped through the threshold. “Yes, Sir?”

“Ward, I need you to put out a few men to tail Obadiah Stane.”

“Of course, Sir. Anything else?”

Pierce rubbed a hand across his forehead. “There wasn’t any news about Tony Stark today, was there?”

“What kind of news?”

“Like ‘he’s missing’ sort of news.”

“I’ll look.” Ward slipped back out through the door, only to return not minutes later.

“A report was made; it’s just waiting to be approved. Won't be long now before the media hears about it.” Ward opened the file, showing Pierce an almost bare slip of paper, scantly describing Stark’s disappearance. He was almost about to send Ward away when something caught his eye.

“Wait.” Pierce shot a hand up to stop him from taking the file away. “What’s that?”

“It’s the timestamp, Sir. It shows what time the officer made the report.”

Pierce hummed. “And tell me, Officer Ward, what time does that say?”

“9:30 AM,” he answered slowly.

“How peculiar.”

“How so, Sir?”

Pierce adjusted his glasses on his pale nose. “Well, I watched Stane strut through my office today broadcasting the fact that he had snatched Tony Stark off the streets to dangle in front of The Captain, and that no one even knew he was gone.”

“So?”

Pierce sighed. “Stane came in after lunch.”

Ward scratched at the back of his head. “I’m not following.”

“So this report was filled out before I had my meeting with Stane, yes?”

“I guess so, yes.”

“Now, Ward. How in the world would an officer know a person, Tony Stark no less, was missing hours before the rest of the city got a single clue?”

Ward shifted on his feet uneasily. “I’m not sure, Sir. Maybe there was just a typo when it printed.”

“Or maybe someone tipped them off,” Pierce interjected.

“But no one knew about it,” continued Ward. “How would they know to file a report about information that no one knew about?”

“Exactly,” Pierce grinned. “But someone did know. Someone, besides the kidnappers, knew that Tony Stark had been taken.”

Ward furrowed his brow. “Who?”

“The Captain.”

“But if The Captain tipped them off, then that means that- ”

“Yes, yes it does,” Pierce finished, leaning back in his chair. “Who filed the report?”

Ward stared back down at the report. “Officer Coulson.”

Chapter Text

“Let me see.”

It was whispered so softly, Tony could barely hear it over the dancing flames that their small fire emitted. He leaned forward, starting the struggle to open his robe when a gentle hand lay on his shoulder.

“Just the hands,” continued Yinsen.

Tony sighed, but said nothing, returning to his original position and stuck his hands out slowly, careful not to jostle the heavy rectangle that sat in his lap.

He heard Yinsen hum. “The braces are fine; they’ll hold for a few more weeks and we’ll go from there. As for the other one,” he said, carefully switching between hands. “You haven’t ripped your stitches, which, for you, is a momentous achievement. Any loss of mobility?”

Tony shook his head, wiggling his fingers on his right hand as evidence. Yinsen nodded, patting his hand before leaning back against his chair.

Tony’s eyes swiveled over the room that had housed him for the past week. Well, he’d been told it had been just over a week. Tony was out for most of it, but figured Yinsen had no reason to lie about it. It wasn’t much; Tony could only surmise that they were underground from the dirt that was packed in to make the floor. The ceiling was constantly leaking; rusty water dripping into buckets, the sound no doubt going to eventually drive Tony insane. He and Yinsen were currently sitting in the far corner, in front of an empty barrel that someone jerry-rigged into a fire pit. Tony had seen a vent on the ceiling, so he could only pray that they wouldn’t die of oxygen deprivation. Besides, if they’ve been down there for as long as Yinsen said they had, then if lack of oxygen were a problem, they’d be long dead by now. Other than the ancient lawn chairs that were probably scavenged from the dump, and the two lumps that were barely passing as cots, the room was empty.

Tony’s voice broke over the cracking flames. “Did they- ”

“No,” replied Yinsen. “They haven’t been in yet. Maybe today is your lucky day; you’ll finally meet our gracious hosts.”

Tony shivered.

The Ten Rings.

From what Yinsen had filled him in on, the pair was currently being held by one of New York’s most gruesome gangs. He had gathered more than enough intel over the years, and none of it was good. They were the type of people that would give HYDRA a run for their money. Tony found himself wondering if it would have been better to have been kidnapped from HYDRA. Because wasn’t that the kicker.

Yinsen said The Rings never once mentioned HYDRA, which Tony couldn't decide if it was concerning or not. Months ago. when The Commandos had snatched one of Hammer's men off the street, he had first mentioned the illusive Monger. Which, with a little digging from Romanoff, led to the Ten Rings. Maybe the Ten Rings were acting as the fist of HYDRA - Loki had let it slip that The Monger had been working with HYDRA, so it would make sense that the manpower of The Ten Rings be utilized. It would definitely explain the recent attacks on his business. 

But it didn't explain why he was still alive. HYDRA didn't seem to have a problem with setting off a bomb with him in it - twice, apparently. Loki had already confirmed that he was a dead man, so why keep him alive? In fact, it seemed that The Ten Rings were doing everything in their power to keep him alive, if the medical supplies given to Yinsen and the lack of continued violence were to mean anything. 

Which most likely meant that he was just here as a cash cow. Bait. 

Tony shuddered. “But did they- ”

“No,” Yinsen repeated, knowing exactly what he was going to ask. “If they haven’t been in today, how would they have been able to tell me about The Captain?”

Tony sighed, staring back into the flames. This is a good thing, Tony tried to reassure himself. It had been over a week; if The Rings still had Steve, they would have heard about it, right? Steve already upheld his part of the bargain, so they didn’t need him anymore, right?

No.

He refused to think about it. Tony knew what mobs did to people who weren’t useful anymore. Besides, none of that matters if he didn’t survive the bomb, his mind betrayed.

Tony moaned softly, his head flopping against his chest. Steve had to be alive. He had to be. He had survived a run in with the East River in the middle of winter, so of course he could survive a little bomb. Besides, if Tony’s math was right, which it always was, he took most of the blast by jumping in front of Steve. And while Tony would normally use that instance to get bragging rights for all eternity, he wasn’t feeling much like celebrating.

Tony glared down at the car battery that sat in his lap, wires almost innocently connecting to the center of his chest. Tony bit his lip hard, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill over his cheeks again. It was a good thing Yinsen had bandaged his chest back up. After a less than stellar first sighting of the mangled mess that was his torso, Tony didn’t think he could bring himself back to look at the monster he’d become. The only thing that had been keeping him sane the last few days is that he had potentially saved Steve’s life. Tony shook his head. No. He did save Steve’s life. If there was anything to keep him going in this hellhole, is that Steve is somewhere out there still, looking for a way to bring Tony home.

I hope.

Tony cursed at what he must look like; no better than a teenage girl clutching to the whims of hopes and dreams. If only his father could see him now.

Tony was about to reply before a sharp banging echoed against the locked door of their room.

Yinsen scrambled over to him fearfully, tugging at his robe. “Get up, get up,” he hissed.

“Is it them?” Tony asked, quickly obeying the smaller man.

“Don’t speak unless spoken too, do you understand? Hands above your head, like mine, alright? And don’t do anything stupid.”

Tony nodded mirroring Yinsen’s with one hand, the other clutching his life support, when the door bust open, five armed men filling the empty floor. Behind them, a bald man with dead eyes and browned skin stepped in. When he saw Tony he smiled, his fingers playing idly with a ring on his hand.

“Ah, Mr. Stark. You look like you’re feeling better.”

“No thanks to you,” Tony said on impulse. Yinsen shoved an elbow in his general direction.

The man offered a hollow laugh. “Of course. I’d apologize, but it needed to be done.”

Tony glared at the man, fingers tightening on the car battery.

“My name is Raza.”

“I don’t care,” answered Tony.

The goon to Raza’s right growled, shifting his hand on his gun.

“I would be careful, Mr. Stark,” replied Raza. “My men don’t have the same restraint I do.”

Tony balled his hands into fists but refused to respond. The last thing he needed was a bullet to the head. Just sit tight, he thought to himself. Steve's coming for you. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here, but it would be so much better to show you.”

Before Tony could grunt out a complaint, a bag was thrown over his head and hands were grabbing his arms, dragging him out of the room. From the sounds of a scuffle behind him, Tony could assume that they were dragging Yinsen along for the ride as well.

The pair was pulled along a hallway, just as damp as their current boarding, revolting smells clogging his nose and mouth every time he drew a breath. 

Sewers, Tony’s mind supplied as his nose crinkled against the odors. They were somewhere within New York’s sewer system.

Tony was jolted right and then pushed forward, someone snatching the bag away from his head. Tony squinted at the bright lights illuminating the room. Once he forced himself to reopen his eyes, Tony could only wish that he hadn’t. There, encompassing the entirety of the room, were his weapons. Every weapon imaginable, it seemed, from SI’s top sellers, to the ones always meant for the clearance rack.

“What do you think?” The man grinned, obviously proud; a smile that suited nothing but a dragon, showing off his horde. 

“I think you’ve got a lot of my guns,” Tony responded.

“Yes,” Raza agreed. “But this is business, and as you can see, it’s booming. I need more.”

“Then try your usual supplier,” Tony snapped. “You seem to be doing just fine without my help.”

“You misunderstand me,” continued Raza. “I don’t need that kind of more.”

Tony shot him an unimpressed look. “I’m not following.”

“I don’t need of the same guns, I need variety. I need a golden egg, and you’re going to help me get it.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a worn photo to hand to Tony.

Tony’s eyes widened as he saw what was staring back up at him. It's not possible. That photo shouldn't exist; it hadn't existed. Not for a long time - or so he had thought. “Where the hell did you find this photo?”

Raza ignored him. “I need this. I need the Jericho missiles.”

“How did you get your hand on this photo?” Tony hissed again. “The Jericho program was scrapped a few years ago. These things were too dangerous to give over to the military. There aren’t any left; I had all the models destroyed.”

“Yes, but I don’t need a model when I have you,” Raza replied easily. “You’ll build me one.”

Tony gaped at the man. “What?”

“You will build me a Jericho.”

“And why the hell would I do that?”

“Because,” Raza said, “if you do, I’ll release you. I’ll let you go home, no harm, no foul.”

Home.

Tony wanted nothing more than to find his way back to his rickety speakeasy. He wanted to trip over muddy boots and discarded guns as he walked down the stairs. He wanted to wake up to the smell of Bruce’s tea or even Thor’s booming voice on his quest for Poptarts. He wanted to hear Clint’s bad jokes, Sam’s disgruntled bickering, Natasha’s quiet judgement. Hell, he’d even take Bucky tapping a forgotten melody with his metal fingers against the table. But mostly he just wanted Steve. Steve’s eyes, glowing even without any light. His smile, especially the ones he fights to keep down as he tries not to laugh at something inappropriate. His furrowed brow, making him look like a kicked puppy as he tries to maneuver Tony’s miscellaneous tech. His hands running through Tony’s hair. His feet falling into step besides Tony. His larger frame brushing against his as they passed each other in the hallway. His voice, a masterpiece of soft lullabies and crashing crescendos. He wanted Steve.

But if Tony only knew one thing in this world, was that he’d never see Steve again if he said yes to this man.

“No,” he whispered.

Raza paused, turning slowly. “What did you say?”

Tony lifted his chin in defiance. “I said no.”

In retrospect, Tony thought as he found himself waking up again on his cot, he should have come up with a more diplomatic answer. Shifting slightly, he felt the dampness of his skin and instantly turned to his side, throwing up whatever bile remained in his stomach. Tony shuddered, not really knowing if he should count himself lucky he didn’t remember the waterboarding this time. It was bad enough the first time, in the warehouse. How no matter how much he struggled, how much he screamed in protest, there was nothing but the silence and the water.

“Ah, back with the land of the living, I see.”

“How bad is it?” asked Tony, counting on Yinsen to give it to him straight.

“Well,” the man answered, “you’ve definitely seen better days. Don’t worry; the bruises will fade. You managed to avoid breaking any more bones, so you’ve got that going for you.”

Tony mustered up a smile. “I’ll drink to that.”

The cold lip of a metal cup was pushed up against his mouth. “Of course you will,” Yinsen continued. “You were out like a light after two punches. You’re still dehydrated, still healing from the warehouse.”

Tony hummed as he gratefully sucked the water down. “That bad, huh?” he managed to grit out after the cup was finally empty.

“I’ve seen some pretty sad things in my life, Mr. Stark. But you went down faster than a flower bows to the wind,” Yinsen smirked.

Tony shot Yinsen a glare, ignoring how the man’s smile grew, instead shifting around on the cot until he managed to snag the blanket between his good fingers, hoisting it over his body for some semblance of warmth. “Well, you can just forget your Christmas bonus.”

Yinsen let out a breathy chuckle. “I’m sure I’ll survive.” When Tony didn’t respond, he continued,. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Tony replied.

“Will you survive?”

Tony clenched his jaw, looking down at his broken body.

“They will be back,” Yinsen pushed. “And something tells me that they won’t be as generous as they were last time. We need a plan.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not usually the man with the plan.”

“You don’t have a choice,” answered Yinsen.

Tony pushed himself up to a sitting position. “I guess not.”

“What are we going to do?”

Tony sighed. “I’ll think of something.”

Chapter Text

“Come on, Phil,” Clint whined into the phone. “Can’t you call in sick?”

“I’m sorry, Clint. You know I’d be there if I could.”

Clint kicked a small rock, listening to it echo as it skipped down the alley. “But it’s Friday. You promised me steak and potatoes.”

He heard a warm chuckle over the phone. “You know, I’m starting to get concerned that you’re only with me for the food.”

Clint gasped dramatically. “Why, Phil, I never! The food is just a nice bonus.”

Another chuckle. “Well, we’ll just have to postpone dinner until Saturday.”

Clint frowned, pressing the phone closer to his ear. Above him, the sky was a bleak gray, an ominous warning of the storms to come. “It’s getting really busy over there, isn’t it?”

“The statement’s finally been released to the public,” Phil sighed. “The media is going nuts over Stark’s disappearance. I can barely make it into the precinct every morning without being hounded. What’s worse is that we don’t have any answers for them.”

“You guys got nothing?”

“You have to understand, Clint, I can’t just show up to work with all of these mysterious tips. If I mention the warehouse him and Steve were in, people are going to want to know how I know. That would put everyone at risk.”

Clint frowned, but he knew his boyfriend was right. An unfortunate side effect of working on the side of the law meant that you actually had to follow the law. A bit overrated, if you as him. “This is why I should be your CI! People would be less suspicious if they thought your tips came from one.”

“No,'' Phil's voice replied harshly. "Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Phil- ”

“Clint, I said no.”

Clint sighed, leaning against the outer wall of the shawarma shop. “I’m just trying to help, Phil.”

“I know you are, sweetheart. I just can’t do that to you. Criminal informants don’t last long because they’re either thrown back in prison or end up dead. I refuse to risk you like that.”

Clint found himself smiling. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I know. Just humor me, please?”

“Yeah,” Clint conceded.

Silence fell between the two of them, Clint just zoning in on Phil’s soft breathing that reached over the phone. Another date cancelled. Of course, Clint can’t blame it on Phil; he had cut out on him more than once. Except, instead of protecting the citizens, it was usually for reasons more along the lines of muggings someone or breaking and entering. With everything that’s been happening, the time the pair actually got to spend together was drifting further and further apart. It wasn’t like this was the first time they’d both been busy dealing with their respective empires, but the reappearance of HYDRA was doing them no favors.

Phil was working in the belly of the beast, just feet away from the man who was now in charge of HYDRA. Clint had pleaded with Phil, trying anything to get the man to leave, to quit, to do something. But the man had refused. "You need someone on the inside," Phil had answered. Clint had been furious, desperate to take action, but he knew that he couldn't. It was the type of man that Phil was. Clint knew it - it was part of the reason he fell in love with him. And while Clint had kept his mouth shut for every other job that Phil worked, he knew that they weren't just playing cops and robbers anymore. What HYDRA had managed to accomplish in a few months was devastatingly immeasurable. If Phil was to become another check mark on HYDRA's to do list, Clint wasn't sure what he would do with himself. 

There was only one time that Clint was grateful that HYDRA existed. He wouldn’t have met Phil without them. Sometimes, Clint wishes that they never met, and that Phil was off living some apple pie life with some cellist or something like that; Clint knew he was a danger to Phil. But if anything, Phil was more stubborn than Clint. He wasn’t leaving Clint; wasn’t taking no for an answer. He knew that from the beginning.

“Excuse me.”

Clint tuned the voice out out, casing the crowd. It was almost time. With any luck, the man he was looking for was already within the building.

“Excuse me.” A sharp tap on his shoulder finally had Clint turning. A harsh retort formed on his lips, but he fumbled when he saw who was addressing him. While usually, Clint would see the police uniform and run, the man wearing the suit had him stopping. His jaw was clenched tightly, but the strong line they formed along his face was worth it. His dark hair was parted and combed perfectly; everything about the man screamed neat. But what had Clint’s tongue in his throat were his eyes. Clint couldn’t even discern what colors they actually were. It was like staring into the Milky Way; a dark sky splattered with bright constellations and planets.

“I-I’m sorry?” Clint managed to stammer out. Smooth, Barton. Real smooth. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The question caught Clint off guard. Well, both the question and the smooth voice it was asked in. Like caramel.“Well, Sir," he answered slowly. "This is a bank. I’m here to withdraw money from my account.”

The officer squinted his eyes. “Yeah, that’s not working. Try again.”

Clint startled.“What’s not working?”

The policemen pointed over to the far wall, where a small line was formed. “If you were waiting for a teller, you’d be over there. Besides, it doesn’t take a man over twenty minutes to decide whether or not he wants cash or not.”

Clint cursed internally. Sure, he’d gotten there a little early to meet his mark, but he didn’t want to miss him. Today was too important to screw up. Everything has to go as planned if he wants this to be finally over. Cap was counting on him. 

“Well, I’m not your average man,” Clint chided.

“Not average is right,” the officer noted. “Clinton Barton, am I right?”

Clint froze. “How the hell do you know me?”

The officer nodded over to one of the security cameras on the walls. “One of the tellers phoned the cops saying that a suspicious man has been stalking the lobby for a while. I thought I’d stop by and say hello. Of course, I always like to know who I’m talking to, so I thought I’d plug your face into the database first and see what I got. You made for quite an interesting read, Mr. Barton.”

Clint leaned forward, blinking coyly through his lashes, unable to help himself. “Did you like what you read? Let me tell you that I’m much more impressive in person, Officer…”

“Coulson,” the man answered, flatly. “And impressive isn’t the word I would use.”

“Why, Officer Coulson, that’s not how you address a fine citizen such as myself.”

“Please. You are anything but fine.”

"You're right. I'm stunning," Clint winked. 

Coulson leveled him with a glare. "With quite a stunning record to match. You're here to cause trouble." 

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know guys like you. In and out of jail all the time, one would think that you’ve got nothing better to do. But you don’t, do you? You’re just a child; a nobody craving attention.”

Ouch. Clint balled his hands into fists, praying that he had the strength not to punch this man. He'd hate to ruin the face; he should have known. The pretty ones always turn out to be douches. He opened his mouth to reply with a cutting reply, when he stopped. Across the bank, a man in a trench coat walked through the revolving doors, briefcase in hand. “Well," he said, eyes not leaving the case. "This has been enlightening, Officer, but I need to go.”

Coulson shot out and grabbed his arm. “I didn’t say you could leave.”

Clint watched as his mark bent over, setting his briefcase down. “You can interrogate me after,” Clint hissed. “Let me do my job.”

“What job?” Coulson demanded.

But Clint wasn’t listening. He watched as the man pretended to get a phone call, starting to walk away from the briefcase. Shit, shit, shit. “Get the hell off me,” Clint snapped, pushing away from Coulson.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on!”

His mark got closer to the door. Clint swung back around. “I'm sorry,” he uttered quickly before decking Coulson in the face, finally escaping his grasp. He heard patrons gasp at the scene, but Clint ignored them as he pounced forward, grabbing the briefcase. He barely had the thing snug in his hand before he was whipping it around, clipping his mark in the back of the head. The guy crumpled instantly, body falling to the floor in a heap.

“Hey!” he heard Coulson yell, but Clint just had eyes for the briefcase.

30 seconds. Shit, he'd armed it. Cap was gonna kill him - that is, if the active bomb didn't first. 

Clint’s eyes darted wildly around the bank, looking for somewhere safe to toss it, but to no avail. There were people everywhere. Hands grabbed at him again, Clint struggling against Coulson’s grip.

“Get off me!”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Coulson yelled in response.

“Saving your goddamn life,” Clint roared back before taking off behind the tellers. He heard Coulson in pursuit of him, but Clint didn’t dare look back. Suddenly, he was sent crashing to the ground as Coulson managed to jump forward, knocking his legs out from under him. Clint couldn’t contain the shout that left him as pain coursed down his legs. 

15 seconds.

Ignoring his leg, Clint kicked away from Coulson, pushing forward. Come on, he thought. Where is it?

At the end of the hall, Clint stumbled into the back room with all of the safety deposit boxes. He snatched the keys hanging off the hook, opened the closest one, and tossed the briefcase inside.

“Stop in the name of the law!”

Coulson must have thought he was going to put up more of a fight, as the man was shocked to see Clint running back towards him. The policeman barely had time to open his mouth again until Clint tackled them, sending the pair barreling to the floor. Clint tried to cover as much as Coulson’s body as he could when-

BOOM!

The bomb exploded, the blast shaking the entire building. Clint could feel shards of deposit boxes fall over his body, but nothing too painful. He exhaled deeply, unable to stop himself from flopping his head down onto Coulson’s chest.

“Was that a bomb?” the other man whispered.

Clint groaned, finally peeling himself off the other man. When he turned back, he was met with a gaping hole in the wall, the once gleaming metal nothing but black soot now. “Curtesy of HYDRA,” Clint replied.

“HYDRA?” Coulson gaped, standing up with shaking legs.

“Don’t worry. The rest of the crew will handle the other bombs. HYDRA won’t be a problem much longer.”

Clint could hear sirens down the hall, the rest of Coulson’s gang finally showing up to the party. “You probably want to arrest the bomber before he gets away,” Clint shot at Coulson before starting to limp down the hall. It was a miracle he was able to slip out the back door without anyone noticing, or being arrested. Seems like Coulson had decided to let him walk. 

He managed half a block down the back alley before he had to stop, legs buckling under him. Pulling his pant leg up, Clint could see the dark bruising that was already forming around his ankle. He flopped against the alley wall, which of course, was a mistake because it looks like the bomb had left a few marks as well, if the throbbing pain in his skull was any indication. 

“You work for him, don’t you.”

Clint froze, turning his head minutely to see the officer leaning against a streetlamp. How long had he been sitting here? The sirens weren’t on in the background anymore; the blue and red lights were gone. And yet, Coulson was not only still there, but had managed to sneak up on him. It was near impossible with his new hearing aids. That guy might just be quieter than Clint.  

“I’m sorry," Clint sighed. "You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“Don’t play coy with me.” Coulson pushed away from the lamp and idled over to Clint. “There’s only one man in an active battle royale with HYDRA. You know who I’m talking about.”

Clint bit his lip, weighing his options. Sure, his term of employment with Rogers was still fresh. But after eradicating the problem that was HYDRA, Clint had never felt a stronger connection than with The Commandos. Clint knew he was in for the long haul; that is, if Steve let him. “Maybe,” he finally answered. “You gonna arrest me?”

Coulson gave him a thoughtful look. “Someone just called in an anonymous tip. The boys followed to some building in Harlem; sort of lab they say. You were right; HYDRA was behind the bomb. There was a list of a bunch of locations, the bank being one of them. I’m assuming that since there were no other reports of bombs at the other spots, your team got to the bombers before they detonated.”

Clint shrugged. “Probably.”  

“That’s not all they found at the lab.” Clint didn’t answer, and Coulson continued. “They found a bunch of bodies there as well. Everyone’s assuming they’re HYDRA henchmen.”

“Good assumption.”

“That’s the rest of them, isn’t it? You got rid of HYDRA once and for all.”

“I wasn’t at the lab; I was here. The Captain got rid of HYDRA. I was just a nobody craving attention.”

Coulson dropped eye contact briefly. “You saved all of those people in there; you save my life. That wasn’t The Captain. That was you.”

“Better not go around and start spreading that around, Officer. Don’t wanna ruin my reputation. I've heard it makes for an interesting read," he grinned. 

Coulson gave a small laugh. Clint blatantly ignored how it reminded him of when he heard bells ringing for the first time. “No, of course not,” the man replied. He looked down at Clint’s leg and frowned slightly. “How bad is it?”

“Just a sprain. It’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Not if you don’t ice it properly.”

“What are you, a doctor now?”

“I can take you downtown,” Coulson answered. Once he realized what he said, he continued. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that – shit, that’s not,” the man broke off in a sigh. “This is not going as planned.”

Clint gaped at the man. “You had something planned?”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry. Those things I said… they we’re wrong. I saw what you did today. You were ready to let me throw you in jail. You did that, just to save those people. Maybe you and I aren’t so different. You want to help people; you just do it in your own way.”  

Clint didn’t know what to say. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. “Um, thanks?”

Coulson snorted. “Let me guess. You’re not used to the whole appreciation thing are you?”

Clint shook his head. "Doesn't usually happen in my line of work." 

“Well, let me tell you. It’s a novel concept. You did something for me, now let me do something for you. Let me help you.”

Clint gave him a skeptical look before turning back to look down the street.

“I’m not going to arrest you,” he answered. “Not after what you did today. I was wrong about you; I’d just like to apologize. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’d kick my ass if I tried anything.”

Clint couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t know, Coulson. Something tells me you know how to kill a guy with a pocket protector.”

The man gave a small smile. “Let’s not try and find out. And, it’s Phil.”

Clint couldn’t help but smile in return. “Clint,” he answered, shooting out a hand.

Coul-Phil met his hand, shaking in a firm, but gentle grip, easily hauling Clint off the ground.

“There’s a little diner up the road that just so happens to give discounts to police officers. You play your cards right and there might just be a discount for you as well.”

Clint laughed, dropping Phil’s hand. The man quickly slipped against Clint’s side, wrapping a strong arm around his waist to take most of his weight, helping him stumble down the road. “You asking me on a date, Sir?”

Clint could see the other man’s smile from the corner of his eye. “We’ll see.”

“Clint?”

Clint pressed his fingers hard against his temple. “Yeah, sorry, Phil. Got a little lost in thought there.”

“Get some rest. You sound exhausted.”

“Don’t worry about me, Phil,” Clint retorted. “Just get that work done. You, Sir, owe me a steak dinner.”

“You got a deal. You know I love you, right?”

Giddiness bubbled in his cheat, Clint biting down hard on his lip to keep it from escaping. “Of course, you do. What’s not to love?”

“Clint,” Phil scolded.

Clint snorted, unable to contain his goofy smile. “Yeah, I know. I love you, too.”

“I’ll see you on Saturday. Stay sharp.”

“Stay safe,” Clint whispered in return, staying on the phone until he heard Phil hang up. He thumped his head against the wall, letting the New York chill breeze over him.

Chapter Text

“Loki, try to see sense here.”

Clint watched as Loki rolled his eyes dramatically, scoffing at Thor's plead. “I don’t know what you want from me, brother. I’ve been locked up in here the whole time. How could I possibly know anything that’s happened to Stark?” his tone was as slimy as always, and it made Clint roil with anger. Whether or not Loki had direct involvement with Stark's kidnapping, he was absolutely aware of it. Information, that's the market Loki dealt in. Trading whispers for secrets, that sort of thing. A very similar deal to what Tony worked with in the criminal world - except for the fact that Stark used it for protection, and Loki only saw information as fire starters, dropping bombs where he could to get something burning, leaving before it got too hot. It was why he'd never been caught before, never been blindsided. Until now. 

“You were working with HYDRA. Who’s to say you weren’t working for other gangs as well,” Clint responded. “Getting their hands on Tony had to be the end game for some of them. We want names.”

Loki barked out a hollow laugh. “Well, I hope you have nothing else to do today, because you’ll be here a long while. Over half the mobs in this city would kill to kidnap Stark. That worm is worth millions; his mind, billions.”

“Watch your tone,” hissed Thor.

“Look at this,” Loki continued, sneering at Thor. “Defending the enemy. If only father could see you now.”

“And is he saw you? What would he think then?”

“Like I care what that old fool thinks.”

Thor sighed, leaning back against the wall. The man had been trying for days, pleading with Loki about any possible leads for finding Tony. Clint was surprised to say the least. Sure, Thor would do as Steve asked and help the team out, but he never expected Thor to go completely out of his way to try and save his main competitor. Thor and Tony were always at each other’s throats, more so than Tony and Bucky. But then again, how the two of them managed to come away from it as the best of pals, Clint would never understand. He could only guess almost dying in a burning warehouse would change any man’s attitude.

“This isn’t working,” Clint said, walking over to the larger blonde. “He’s just throwing you through loops, now. Come on; we’ll find another way.”

Clint started to lead Thor out of the cell that Loki was currently housing, when Loki’s voice stopped them. “I can still help you.”

Clint shot the man a glare over his shoulder. “You’ve wasted enough of our time to show that you really can’t.”

“So testy,” Loki smiled. It looked even more terrifying with the new look that he’d been sporting. His face was ragged, hair in a tangled mess. His clothes were dirty, almost stale looking, no doubt from being locked in the same room for weeks. It just made him look more menacing. “I said I couldn’t help you in here. I can help you if you let me go.”

“Absolutely not,” snapped Clint.

“My informants and I would have Stark’s location within the hour,” Loki assured.

“Maybe we should- ” Thor started.

“No,” Clint interrupted. “You actually think he’s going to help us? After everything? He’ll sell us out to the first person he sees.”

“It’s not like I even know where we are, Barton,” Loki said, with a roll of his eyes.

“As if a snake like you couldn’t figure it out,” Clint returned.

“Is that a compliment, Barton?” Loki smiled.

Clint clenched his jaw. “I don’t have time to waste on you. Come on, Thor. This asshole will get what’s coming to him eventually.”

“And you’ll get what’s coming to you,” Loki hissed in return. “I’ll make sure of it.”   

Clint snorted as he waltzed out of the cell. “Can’t fucking wait.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat as James Rhodes glared down at him. Steve had pictured many faces that could have been Rhodes, but never the stern face that stared back at him. Whenever Tony talked about him, Steve could think of him as nothing other than Tony’s version of Bucky. He raved on and on about their college shenanigans, Rhodes basically being a mother hen, trying desperately to keep his wild chick from raining terror down on MIT’s campus, all the while snickering through the foolishness at Tony’s side. From what Steve had gathered, although Rhodes seemed unusual for being a confidant of Tony Stark, the man had been able to keep up with the genius for years, never once faltering from his side. This man standing in front of Steve, however, was nothing like that.

Rhodes seemed to tower over them, dark eyes piercing as they scanned over him. If his jaw was clenched any harder, Steve would think that his teeth would crack. He just screamed threat to Steve. Any other day, Steve would have been very pleased to know that Tony had someone so protective in his corner. Right now, Steve wished he would have sent Bucky to do this.

“I don’t like this, Pepper,” the man finally said, his voice as stony as the rest of him.

“Jim, he can help.”

“Just like he helped before?” Rhodes continued. “Hell, Tony probably wouldn’t even be in this situation if it weren’t for him!”

Steve flinched, but made no comment. There wasn’t anything to say, considering the man was right. Tony would be safe, hidden away in his penthouse if he’d never gotten involved with Steve. Now, because of him, Tony was probably rotting away with some second rate gang.

If he’s even still alive, his mind whispered. Steve shook his head, rubbing his fingers against his eyes. He wouldn’t let himself think like that. Tony was way more valuable alive. From a business standpoint, Tony Stark could open doors for any mob. It was what Steve himself had told himself when he snatched Tony off the street for their first ever meeting. God, that seems like a lifetime ago. How the hell did we end up here? 

So, no. Tony wasn't dead; he was an asset - which type of asset remains to be seen. They weren't even able to narrow down to a type of gang that would benefit from using Tony because everyone would. Steve almost wished that Tony wasn't as smart as he was; turns out Tony being the best and the brightest on multiple subjects was causing them nothing but problems. Please, like Tony would ever do anything half-ass," Steve thought morosely, chest throbbing for the missing limb that was Tony. Because he couldn't take in any comfort that Tony was still alive. Because defiant, stupid, beautiful Tony would always say no. Just like he had told Steve. 

And that's what scared him the most. Being alive left a wide spectrum: there was a lot of wiggle room between being healthy and death. And regardless of who had taken Tony, Steve knew that they would be more than happy to explore any and every torturous scenario they could, until Tony said yes. But he never would. 

“Jim, please,” Pepper continued, rubbing her temple. “I’m not exactly happy about it either, but he wants to find Tony as much as we do.”

If not more, Steve thought. “Please, Rhodes, you can hash things out with me later. I just want to find Tony.”

“No, you don’t get to do that,” Rhodes snapped, pressing a finger into Steve’s chest. “You can’t talk about him like a long lost friend. From what I gathered here, your relationship with him is nothing but destructive. I shouldn’t let you anywhere near Tony!”

“I’m not disagreeing,” Steve said mournfully. “I know that this is my fault. But I’ll do anything to fix it, anything to get him back.”

“My God, you’re just head over heels for that boy, aren’t you?” Pepper murmured.

“That’s just great!” Rhodes shouted, throwing his hands up to the ceiling. “You’re hooking up with him too!”

“Well,” Steve blushed. “Technically, we haven’t- ”

Rhodes held up a hand to stop Steve. “I don’t want to hear another word.”

Steve sighed. “Listen, I have a contact at the police, I’ve got men scouring the streets for him, but it’s still not enough. It’s been weeks, and there’s still no sign of him. No proof, no demands, no….. no body,” Steve cringed on the last word. “I don’t know what to do. You two are my last options; Tony never shut up about you two; I know you love him, just as he loves you. And I know that you’ll do anything to get him back in one piece.”

“Well, at least we’ve got one thing in common,” Rhodes conceded, flopping into the chair next to Steve.

“How’s JARVIS coming with the encryption,” Steve directed towards Pepper.

“Slow,” she frowned. “The coding is complex. If Tony were here, he could probably break through it in a few hours, but… we’ll know eventually.”

“Okay,” said Rhodes, slapping his hands against his thighs. “This is what we’re gonna do. Pepper, you stay here, keep the radar low. I want this door locked and that gun loaded at all times, do you hear me? If there’s a mole running around in here, I don’t want to leave you unprepared. You,” he continued, pointing to Steve,” are going to call on any criminal and street rat you can think of. I want every possible pair of eyes looking out for Tones. If you get anything, and I mean anything, you are going to call me. You understand?”

Steve nodded. “What about you?”

Rhodes stood, walking towards the door. “The military doesn’t want to lose its golden egg. I’m gonna go pull some strings and get the techs looking into it. If we’ve got every possible side of the law looking for him, there’s no way we won’t be able to find Tony.”

“Brother, please,” he tried again.

“No,” Thor answered, dropping Loki’s dinner off on the small table.

“I can help.”

“You’ll help no one but yourself and you know it,” Thor snapped before rushing out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

His anger will be the death of him.

Loki waited until he heard the thuds of Thor’s steps as he stomped up the stairs. Once silence encased him again, he reached out, ignoring the food, and grabbed the knife. Not wasting any time, he followed the chain that connected to his ankle, the very chain that ensured his capture for weeks, all the way back to the wall. During the day, he throws his pillow up against it so they can’t see the progress he’s made. The chain had been bolted to the wall, and with such limited options, Loki has been forced to chink away at the old stone behind the blots in order to even dream of escaping. It was all too easy to get his hands on the knife. While usually one of The Captain’s goons sat and watched him eat, whenever Thor would be sent down, Loki just bit out a few cutting remarks to have the man and his damaged ego running for the hills.

Not long now, he thought as he surveyed his work. The bolt was half hanging off the wall already; a few more stabs with the knife and he’d be good to go. Loki rolled up his sleeves before getting to work.

He was getting out of there.  

Chapter Text

Clint raced through the streets, pushing past civilians instead of trying to dodge their foot traffic. He could hear the angry retorts, but there was no time to stop and throw a punch. He flew across the last corner, flinging himself into the dark shawarma shop. Rushing to the back he almost collided with Bucky, who was walking up the speakeasy stairs.

“Jesus!” he shouted, grabbing onto Clint before he could stumble over. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“I’ve got a location,” Clint gasped in between breaths.

“Stark?” Bucky asked.

Clint nodded, and then the other man was gone, tearing down the steps. It wasn’t long before Steve was racing up to Clint, panting, obviously caught mid workout. “You know where he is?” Clint could hear the slight wobble in his voice.

“The twins got word that he’s being held in the old firehouse.”

For the first time in weeks, Steve broke out into a smile, laughing brightly as he grabbed at Clint. “Get the vans ready!” he called behind him, the rest of the crew already on the move.

Once loaded, the fleet on vans peeled onto the street, Steve on the phone with Tony’s friend Rhodes to have him meet them there. The twins hadn’t said much, but he tried not to dwell on it. Apparently some of their homeless friends had seen Stark through one of the windows when they were trying to find somewhere to bunk for the night. He knew the twins wold pull through, despite their misgivings about Stark. This was the break that they were waiting for, the one that they needed. 

It was a short drive, one that Clint could tell everyone was happy about. Guns were loaded and ready as The Commandos poured out of the vans. Steve gestured over to the right, a dark man quickly joining the group, Clint assuming him to be Rhodes.

“Give them all we’ve got,” Steve breathed. “Tony’s been in there long enough. It’s time to get him back.”

There was a resounding yes and they were off, moving as they once did. Windows were smashed, doors broken down, guns fired. It was just like the old days, Clint couldn’t help but notice. Soon, Tony would be back with them and they would be complete once again. He’d have his whole family again.

“What the hell?” he heard Sam say.

Clint had been so lost in his head that he didn’t even notice what was going on around him.

It was empty.

The main floor was completely empty.

“Search the place,” Steve snapped, looking warily around the room. “Tony?” he continued, calling out into the space. "Tony, you in here? Answer me, Tony, please!"

“Nothing upstairs,” Nat called.

“Closets are clear!” boomed Thor.

“Garage is empty,” Rhodes finalized.

“He’s not here,” Sam replied. "Dammit, he's not here!" 

“No,” Steve snapped. “He’s here. He has to be. Tony? Tony!”

“Steve,” Bucky tried to intervene.

“He has to be here, Bucky!”

“The place is empty, Steve.”

“Goddammit!” Steve roared, kicking the nearest chair over.

Silence encased the group, unknowing what to say, before Steve spun on his heels, eyes ablaze as he glared at Clint. “You said this was good information,” he hissed, stabbing a finger onto Clint’s chest.

“Easy, Steve,” Clint said, pushing away from him. “They have nothing to gain by lying to me!”

Except he knew the Maximoffs had beef with Tony, especially Wanda. Would they really give him wrong information? No, they'd seen how desperate Clint was. Misgivings or not, they wouldn't risk the wrath of The Captain by leading them on a wild goose chase. 

“Then why isn’t Tony here?” Steve shouted.

Clint’s shoulders slumped, breaking eye contact with his manic boss; he didn’t have any answer for him. Clint couldn’t imagine what Steve was going through; thinking he was so close to getting Tony back, only to realize that he was still at square one. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “They probably just got a bad tip.”

Steve sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, Clint trying to ignore how red his eyes were. “No, Clint. I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I just want him back,” he finished, deflating slightly.

“You will,” Clint answered firmly.

“So what now?” Bucky asked. “Find the guy who gave the twins this address?”

“I guess,” Natasha shrugged. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Why even bother with false information? It’s not like we had any inkling of what direction to head in before.”

Suddenly, Rhodes groaned, his head falling against his chest. “Because it was a distraction.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s simple military tactics. Tricking the enemy into thinking they’ll get what you want when you really get what you want.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “What could anyone gain from this? Watching us run around like a chicken with its head cut off?”

“Captain,” Rhodes continued. “You’re here. You’re all here. Where are you not?”

Realization hit Clint like a ton of bricks. “The speakeasy,” he whispered. The group was moving in an instant, scrambling to load the vans. Tires screeched and horns honked as the crew sped back to their home.

Bucky pulled up first, Clint flinging his door open, out of the car before it was even in park. He sped through the store for the second time that day, busting down the secret entrance to the speakeasy, gun drawn. He felt Bucky move in behind him, the pair walking silently down the steps.

All the lights were still on, left on in the crew’s haste to follow the potential lead on Tony.

“Anything?” he heard Bucky whisper.

“Clear,” he replied, his eyes seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Bucky filed in next to him, the rest of the team hot on his heels.

“Split up,” he heard Steve say. “Yell if you find anything.” The pack spread out, fanning every corner of the speakeasy. Clint took the main floor, slipping his head into the kitchen and the closets, coming up with nothing. A shout from the basement, however, had him sprinting once again.

By the time he rounded the corner, a group had formed in Loki’s cell.

“He’s gone,” Thor sounded out. “Chipped the stone right out from behind his chain.”

Steve looked furious, but more so scared. As he should be. Loki was dangerous as is; who knew what would happen if he knew where the team’s new headquarters were.

“This was his doing,” Natasha said, walking over to Loki’s cot. “You left your phone down here, Thor,” she continued, pointing to the sleek tech left on the table. “He got one his lackeys to spread the tip. The twins overheard it, and he just sat back and waited until he left.”

“Fuck,” Clint heard Bucky groan.

Steve balled his fists, no doubt trying to rein in his anger. “Check the rest of the base. He could have made off with some of our stuff.”

Clint marched back up the stairs, eyes scanning for anything missing. Who knows how long Loki had run around in here before taking off? And now he knows where they’re stationed. A sharp pang hit Clint in the chest. If Loki knew where the speakeasy was located, that meant that they’d probably have to move again. Clint sighed. He thought they'd finally found a place worthy of calling home again.

Clint walked aimlessly upstairs, quickly peeking into bedrooms, but nothing seemed missing. It wasn't if they really had anything worthwhile here - or, at least anything Loki didn't already have access too. It wasn’t until he reached the staircase again that he saw it.

Steve’s office.

The door stood slightly ajar, the light pouring out onto the floor. Steve hadn’t been in his office when he left. He was in the gym.

“Steve!” Clint shouted down the stairs, all while charging into the office. He raised his gun up, just in case, but it proved useless as the office was empty of Loki as well. He had definitely been in there, however. Steve was always a bit of a neat freak, but now, papers were strewn about his desk, some of the drawers opened.

“What is it?” came Steve’s breathless reply as he rushed into the room.

“Loki was here,” he answered. “Anything look like its missing?”

Steve walked around the room, poking at the papers, shutting the drawers. “Not that I can see. I’m sure he was looking for more addresses for location drops. Don’t worry, he didn’t find any. Other than that, there wasn’t anything important enough to take in here.”

Clint nodded, surveying the room one last time. In Loki’s rush, he must have torn some of the pictures away from Steve’s wall. He walked over, picking them up to tac on the wall, smiling down at one that featured a dancing Natasha. Once the photos were back in their original position, he started to walk away, but something caught his eye.

There, on the edge of the collage was a photo, barely hanging on to the wall, ripped in half. Clint grabbed for it immediately, unable to stop the gasp that left his throat as he looked down at it.

“Clint?”

“Oh my god,” he whispered, the ripped photo shaking in his hand.

“And you’ll get what’s coming to you. I’ll make sure of it.”   

Loki had taken something from the office. The other half of the photo. A certain photo of a smiling Clint, leaning into Phil’s side. Loki had ripped Phil right out of the picture. No, no, no, no, no. 

Clint heard Steve call for him again, but he was already out the door. He ran into Bucky, but just grabbed the man, pushing car keys into his hands. “Get me to Phil. Now.”

Luckily, the man didn’t argue, sprinting up the stairs behind Clint and back into their car. Bucky had barely pulled out into the street before Clint opened his phone to call Phil.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” he demanded. 

“Clint, what’s- ”

“Where. Are. You.”

“I’m walking back up to the precinct. May and I tried this new restaurant for lunch. We’ll have to go there for dinner one night, it’s was- ”

“Stay there,” Clint snapped, heart thumping as Bucky tore through traffic. “Don’t go anywhere until I come get you, you understand?”

“Clint, what happened? What's wrong?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just stay on the phone with me until I get there, alright?”

“Sure, sweetheart. Whatever’s wrong is going to be okay. You’ll fix it; I know you will.”

Phil's voice was steady, calming as it always was, but it didn't help Clint this time. He knew that Loki already had a head start on them; if he was able to get the entirety of The Commandos chasing a whisper to a condemned firehouse chained to a wall, who knows what he could do when he was walking free. “Go faster,” Clint hissed to Bucky.

“Clint, I really need to- ”

“No, you keep talking to me, alright?" Clint begged. "I need you to keep talking to me.” Keep telling me that you're alright. 

A sigh. “I expect an explanation when you get here.”

“Of course, Sir. You can yell at me about all the work I’m keep you from when I get there.”

Bucky sped through a red light, nearly getting the pair in two different accidents, but they pulled away just in time, Bucky pressing harder on the gas. Clint saw the police station ahead, tumbling out of the car once Bucky had slowed down enough. “Phil?”

“Yes, Clint. I’m still here.”

Lo and behold, there he was, standing right on the steps of the precinct, waving over at Clint. Thank God, Clint couldn't help but think.“There you are. Are you satisfied that everything’s alright now?”

“Not yet,” Clint answered, jumping out of the car heading over to Phil.

He heard Phil snort over the phone. “So needy. God only knows why I love you so much.”

Clint opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a car horn blasting from down the street.

An SUV screeched around the corner, speeding towards the precinct.

Time slowed.

Clint charged down the street, heading for Phil, Bucky hot on his tail.

A window lowered.

Phil tore his eyes away from Clint long enough to see the black car approaching.

A gun emerged.

And then suddenly everything came crashing together. Time sped forward, people screamed, bullets went flying, glass shattered, tires screeched. And then there was nothing.

Bucky threw Clint to the ground, choking off the other man’s screams, trying to protect him from gunfire. Clint tried to stand back up, but Bucky was one step ahead, pushing him back down to the ground.

Pressing the phone against his ear, Clint called out. “Phil?”

Silence.

“Phil.”

Nothing.

Clint’s heart rate skyrocketed, the man dropping the phone from his ear. He pushed away from Bucky, trying to get to Phil.

“Clint, stop! Don’t look!” Bucky's yelled behind him. 

“Get off me,” Clint hissed. “Phil!”

“Clint, I can’t let you go over there,” Bucky pleaded, his eyes wild as he tried to grab at Clint again. “Clint, please, listen to me!”

Clint shoved Bucky against the wall, finally managing to cast a glance over to the precinct. “Phil?” he whimpered. Why was Phil on the ground? Why was Phil not moving? Why was he not over here with Clint?

“No,” he moaned. “Oh God, please no.”

He tried to walk forward but stumbled, Bucky’s arms managing to catch him. This was wrong. This wasn’t happening.

Get up, get up, get up. 

Arms were tugging at him, but he refused to move. He screamed, but the man he wanted to answer wasn’t listening.

“PHIL!”

“You can’t keep saying no to them.”

Tony shivered, snuggling further under the blanket he was given, his face the only thing peering out over the thin material. “I can try,” he grit out, wincing at the sound of his voice, which sounded no better than an ancient engine trying to start.

“Then you will fail,” Yinsen continued. “It is time you try something else.”

“What do you want me to do, give in?” Tony snapped, gasping as the sudden anger jarred his bruised ribs, the latest addition to the artwork his captors were trying to make out of him.

Yinsen shot him an unimpressed look. “You know that is not what I meant.”

“Well, if you’ve got any ideas, don’t keep them to yourself.”

The door flung open, Raza stomping into the room. Yinsen stepped in front of Tony who was struggling to get up. “Leave him alone!” Yinsen cried. “You’ve asked too much of him already; his body needs time to recover.”

Raza flung the smaller man out of the way, eyes only for Tony. “You refuse to help me and I torture you. Back and forth the game goes, but there’s never a winner. I’m changing the game now, Stark.”

Raza flung something into Tony's lap. A hat?

Tony glared down at the innocent looking hat until he saw what was blazoned on the front. There staring back up at him was badge for the NYPD. Tony's lips started to form a question but stopped when he saw a tag sticking out of the hat. Tony's blood turned to ice as he read the name on the tag. 

P. Coulson

“You keep refusing to help me and I’ll come back with another. Your choice.” With that, the man stomped out of the room.

Tony’s hands trembled as they traced over the police logo of the hat. Oh, God. This was happening because of him. Coulson was probably dead because of him. Tony couldn’t help but think of Clint, the two of them leaning together at Tony’s first team meeting.

“This is all my fault.”

Yinsen stumbled back over to him. “You could not know that this would have happened.”

“I should have,” Tony snapped, eyes burning and angry.

“Well, Mr. Stark. If you’re going to think of a plan, I suggest you do it fast, because it won’t be long before they bring in another hat. With the head still attached.”

Chapter Text

“Oh my God.”

Bucky could barely hear himself over the chaos that lay before him. People were screaming, running through the streets, although there was no point. The van was long gone by now. Officers ran down the steps of the precinct, grabbing for-

Coulson.

Clint was struggling in his arms, shouting, pleading for Phil to get up. Bucky would be wrong if he wasn’t mere seconds away from yelling the same thing. Coulson couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t.

They had to get over to him. Bruce would be able to fix him up, no problem. Right? Bucky scanned the sidewalk, when- oh, shit. Bucky should have known that being in front of the police station meant that there were going to be cops littering the street. While most were standing over Coulson, some had caught on to the scene that Clint was currently creating.

“Clint,” Bucky hissed as they started to move towards the pair lying in the middle of the street. “We need to go.”

“No! Get the hell off me! Phil!” the man underneath him sobbed. 

“Clint, we gotta get out of here!” Bucky cried, tugging harder at his friend. The cops were getting closer, hands reaching down to draw their weapons.

“I don’t care! Let me go!” Clint snarled.

Bucky’s heart was pounding as he watched his options ran out. There was no way that he could let Clint go. He got anywhere near Phil, he’d be taken in for questioning, and then no doubt, once they figured out who he was, arrested soon afterward. It wouldn't matter about evidence - one of New York's officers were shot down in the middle of the street, right in front of the damn precincet. There was no way the boys in blue would rest until they put someone behind bars; and, it's Police Theories: 101 to always start with the significant other. Especially is the significant other is a convicted criminal. But could he leave Coulson here?

Bucky looked over to see paramedics swarming the downed man. Logically, Bucky knew that if Coulson had survived that gun spray that he was in the best hands possible, but that didn’t make his choice any easier. Coulson was basically part of the crew; he couldn’t just leave a man behind.

But if you don’t leave, you’ll all be done for.

Mind made up, Bucky blinked back tears as he quickly pulled a hand away from Clint to pull out his gun. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, before bringing the butt of it down onto Clint’s head. The man crumpled instantly, his screams ceasing.

The cops shouted, obviously catching Bucky in the act. Without stopping, he scooped Clint up, lugging him over to their parked van. The police were closing in fast; Bucky could hear the bullets pelt the side of their armored car as he tossed Clint in the back before making a man dash to the front.

Tires squealed as Bucky peeled away, the man thanking every God he knew that all the cops chasing then were on foot. It wasn't long before they blinked out of the rear view mirror. However, he didn’t take any chances, insisting on speeding all the way home to get Clint to a safe spot. With an officer down, police scanners would already be blasting a description of the van. 

Dumping the van in the back alley, Bucky hoisted Clint over his shoulder, stumbling into the speakeasy. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins as he charged down the stairs, his ears still hearing nothing but echoes of gunfire and Clint’s screams.

“Bucky?”

Hearing Steve’s voice made the brunette crumple, both him and Clint falling to the floor. Another voice shouted to get Bruce, no doubt seeing the blood leak out from Clint’s head.

“Buck? Hey, look at me; you’re safe now. It’s alright now,” Steve’s soothing tone whispered against his ears, his friend’s arms squeezing his shoulders.

Bucky shook his head, tremors taking over his body once he felt tears finally slip down his face. “No,” he moaned. “They shot him, they shot him.”

“Where,” Bruce snapped, his hands searching all over Clint’s body.

“Not him,” Bucky sniffled in return.

“Who?”

“Coulson,” Bucky managed to croak out. "They shot him." And I left him there, goes unsaid. 

He saw Steve’s face pale, eyes shooting down to Clint immediately. “…what?” Steve breathed out.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky replied, voice heavy. “The van came out of nowhere and just… I couldn’t stop it. And then Clint, he wouldn’t leave, but there were cops everywhere. I had to get him out of there before he did something stupid!”

“Hey, easy,” Natasha said, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

“I just left him there,” Bucky retorted quietly. “I don’t know if he’s even alive or not.”

“You couldn’t have gotten to him, James,” Natasha answered. “The police would have arrested you before you got anywhere near him. You did the right thing.”

“Thor,” Steve interjected, voice hoarse. “Take Clint to his room. We need to deal with this.”

“How the hell are we going to deal with this?”

Steve looked away. “I don’t know, Buck. I really don’t know.”

Steve’s hands trembled as he poured another glass of whiskey. It was quiet, the only sounds coming from the bottle hitting the glass tumbler.

Everyone was waiting for the inevitable really. The team had turned on every news channel, every radio station, to see if they could find anything out about Phil, if he was alive or not. But they found nothing; there was just nothing. Of course, Pierce was still running the show over there.  Steve knew that man would just try and brush everything under the table. As for now, the team was just waiting. Waiting for Clint to wake up. Waiting the screams to start again.

Steve closed his eyes, feeling moisture starting to gather behind his lids. God, he didn’t even know what to say, what he could say to Clint. Phil was family to all of them, but to Clint? To Clint he was everything. And now it’s all gone, in a blink of an eye. Steve could understand what that was like, but it crushed him to know that there was someone else that shared the same fate.

He still remembered, of course. There would be no way he could forget; Steve doubted he ever would forget. Everyone else was already gone: Howard, Erskine, even Phillips. He had managed to get Bucky hidden away, but he had been too late for her.

Peggy.

Her skin was still warm as he tugged her across his chest, arms winding around the still body as he sobbed into her perfect hair. If he had been ten minutes earlier, he might have been able to save her.

What would haunt him forever is her eyes. Her once bright and curious eyes, just staring at him, now only cold and empty. He didn’t know how long he sat there, screaming for her to come back, unable to let her slip from his grasp. He prayed, begged, cursed away, trying everything to hear her voice one more time.

It had been Bucky who had found him as well, eventually able to pull him away from the body. He had been inconsolable for months, taking unnecessary risks, just praying that the rest of HYDRA would just kill him already so he could finally be at peace. But then Bucky started talking crazy, started talking about putting a new team together.

So he did. And now it was happening again.

Over half of his crew was gone, Coulson was probably dead, and Steve was letting Tony slip through his grasp.

What now?

It didn’t matter if it was HYDRA or not anymore; everyone was out to get rid of Steve and his team.

They’ve already started with Coulson. How long before another one dies?

Steve collapsed into his chair, crying into his hands.

Chapter Text

“Get. Out.”

Bucky faltered at the tone, but continued to step into the room anyway, shutting the door quietly behind him. “I brought you some dinner,” he said softly.

“I don’t remember asking for any.”

Bucky placed the tray down before wringing his hands nervously. “Well, you haven’t eaten anything all day, so it seemed like the best course of action.”

“And you always make the right call, don’t you?”

Bucky shut his eyes at the harsh tone. He'd never heard Clint sound this way, not even when they'd first met. “Clint- ”

“Don’t,” Clint hissed. He was currently curled up in his bed, the only thing visible was a greasy head of hair that hadn’t been washed in a few days. Bucky could only count his blessings that Clint was facing the other way; Bucky knew that he wouldn’t be able to survive another look from that broken face.

“It was the right call and you know it,” Bucky tried to placate. He wasn't sure if he was saying it to convince Clint or himself. He'd spent the last few days not much better than Clint, running through Phil's shooting in his head over and over again. 

“How? How was it the right call?” Clint roared, spinning around to glare at Bucky. His face was drawn and pale, no doubt from not seeing the sun in the past few days. His eyes were open and irritated, rubbed raw to the point where tears couldn’t be created to soothe him.

Bucky looked away, not able to answer.

“Oh, nothing to say now?” Clint sneered. “I’ve sat through three days of you blabbering into my ears, and now you’ve got nothing to say?”

“Clint, I was trying to protect you.” Another platitude. That's all it was. 

“Bullshit. You were only trying to protect yourself.”

Ouch. Bucky closed his eyes, trying not to get mad at his friend; he couldn’t imagine what he was going through. It wasn't as if he hadn't dealt with this before. Steve had been positively murderous when Bucky had pulled him away from Peggy's corpse. There was no one else around, so Bucky ended up as Steve's figurative punching bag. He was more than happy to take the blows, gratified enough to know that Steve was taking it out on him instead of the streets where he'd most likely get killed. He knew that Clint was itching to head out there as well, ready to burn down the entirety of New York to find the people that had taken Coulson out. Luckily for Bucky, the rest of the team was on the same page as him, helping sequester Clint to the speakeasy until they figured something else out. And until they had a more definitive plan, Bucky had taken up the old mantle of whipping boy. Baby steps, he told himself. On the bright side, at least Clint was talking to him today. Yelling, technically, but Bucky would still count it as a win.

Anything was better than that first day, when Clint finally came too. The man had been an absolute wreck. No one could even figure out what was spewing out of Clint’s mouth half the time. Hell, it took Thor to try and pin the man down. Of course Clint, being the slippery bastard he was, managed to dart away into the night, no doubt to try and find any sign of Phil. He and Steve had barely managed to catch up to him before Clint was able to charge into the precinct demanding Pierce’s blood.

They had tried to stay positive. Hey, no news is good news right? But Clint wasn’t buying any of it. He sent everyone away once he was basically put under house arrest. He wouldn’t even let Nat in.  What was worse was that with each passing day, the more Bucky realized that it wasn't like last time. Peggy's death hadn't been Bucky's fault, it was HYDRA. Logically, Steve knew that, but losing a loved one like that, he more than deserved to take it out on the only person within hearing distance. But Coulson? Well, Bucky wasn't exactly convinced that it wasn't his fault. For as much as he could try and convince himself that he made the right choice, that what he did was the best scenario, he couldn't get past the the issue that regardless of that, he'd still left Coulson there. He'd just tucked and run; it was his fault. And Clint knew it. And that whatever happens, regardless of whether Coulson survived or not, that bridge between him had Clint had burned. No, it wasn’t burned, it was eviscerated.

“It’s not like I wanted to leave him there!” Bucky tried to argue.

Clint shot him a venomous look. “Don’t try and play hero here. If you really cared about Phil, then you would have- ”

“Don’t you dare,” Bucky reared back, jabbing a finger into Clint’s chest. “Don’t you dare say that I don’t care about him. He was my family too.”

“Then why did you leave him to die?” Clint’s voice cracked, new tears finally spilling over his cheeks. Clint seemed to sense another breakdown doming so he pointed at the door. “Get out. We’re done here.”

“Clint- ”

“Please. Just get away from me before I leave you to die in the streets.”

Bucky swallowed his own tears because nodding sullenly, finally walking out the door. He barely had it shut before Clit’s sobs started to echo through the hallway.

"How is he?"

Steve's voice sounded off right next to him, causing him to jump. There was no way he could have been that close unless he was stalking the outside of the room like a worried mother.

"How do you think?" Bucky couldn't help but snap.

Steve just sighed, not bothering to call him out on his tone. "Just give him time. He'll come around."

"You make it seem like he only lost his favorite pair of shoes."

"Buck, don't be like this," Steve replied, putting a hand in front of Bucky's chest to stop him from retreating. "I know what you're doing. I can't imagine how hard it was for you, but you did the right thing. You protected Clint. You protected the family."

"Phil was part of the family," Bucky answered flatly. "I did a pretty crap job protecting him."

Steve clenched his eyes shut tightly. "There wasn't anything you could have done," he whispered, voice wavering in pain. "You couldn't have known that was going to happen." 

Bucky couldn't help the hollow laugh that left his throat. "It's quite a cycle, isn't it?"

Steve shot him a questioning look.

"It's almost funny. How you can go and preach on how it wasn't my fault when you were getting the same speech not even a month ago."

“Buck- ”

Bucky held up a hand. “Not now, Steve. Just let me be for a little bit.”

He walked down the hallway, glad that he didn’t hear Steve behind him. It didn’t matter how Steve tried to support him. The team might think they agree with him, but there is no way that Clint wasn’t affecting them. There was no way that they hadn’t thought how it might have gone different if they were there instead of him.