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unsentpromises-blog · 9 years ago

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veux ton amour, veulent vous venger

It has not escaped his notice that Tony has been a little distant since he came in through the door. No kiss and smile, instead Tony had kept space between them the whole while. Steve is trying to think of any dates he might have forgotten but nothing comes to mind. There’s no anniversary he knows of that has slipped his mind. But Steve knows he’s done something to earn the cool treatment.

It’s even in Tony’s posture, his he leans away and offers him such a blatantly false smile when Steve tells him about the recent goings on with Natasha and Sam. Normally Tony would be leaning forward and asking about all the details. Tony’s got a soft spot for Steve’s friends, who helped to set the two of them up for one thing. But Tony also happens to rather like them on top of that. They’re good people and Tony appreciates good people. He’d said those exact words after a dose of painkillers and a cast for his arm after a little workshop accident. Nat had put up with Tony’s patting her arm and telling her repeatedly she was too pretty to tell such bad jokes and it was Tony’s job from them to find her true love for her to spend the rest of her days with. But here is Tony not listening to a word he says.

It’s about half way through his own plate he’s noticed Tony hasn’t touched any of his food. He’s poked and prodded it but eaten nothing.

Steve’s stomach rolls on him and a prickly heat makes itself known under his shirt collar. A dizzy spell overcomes him and he finds himself having to push off the table not to drop forward onto it.

“..what?” The words sound too distant to Steve’s ears. His tongue is clumsy and feels too large for his mouth.

There’s the sound of a chair against floor and a swish of fabric when Tony drops his napkin onto his full plate. He’s coming around the table that had been between them throughout dinner to Steve.

Steve’s instincts scream at him for being careless because it feels rather like he’s been drugged.

“We’ll talk when you wake up, husband.” Tony stresses the endearment with nothing approaching the normal fondess the words comes with. Evades the hand that Steve tries to reach for him with something like contempt curling the corner of his mouth.

Unconsciousness doesn’t bother Steve half as much as Tony turning his back on him in those last moments.

When he comes back around Steve’s in a place he’s never seen before but it’s rather on par with holding cells he’s seen before. Restraints dig into his arms, wrists and biceps, as well as his ankles and thighs. There’s more around his chest and neck for good measure. They don’t have much give to them either, biting in when he so much as flexes. There is thankfully not blinding light overhead. Instead the small room is filled with only dim light. One of the walls looks like it’s made of glass while the rest are reinforced concrete no doubt. The walls are a pale gray and add to the atmosphere of foreboding.

In a chair just at the edge of his vision sits Tony. Tony who is in full black and wearing a shoulder holster that is Steve has never seen before.

“Agent Rogers, I hope you enjoyed your break because it’s time to get back to work.” Tony may as well be a strange for the complete bland politeness of his words. It’s pleasant and if Steve didn’t know a thing about him would concluded he was a civil, well-mannered man from it. But Steve knows better knows how Tony talks too loud and laughs until he cries, snorts if you catch him off guard.

“Tony?” Steve feels less than present still which he thinks excuses the vulnerability in his voice.

Tony’s face softens just barely before the mild-mannered smile returns. “I would prefer Dr. Stark if you would be so inclined.”

This level of posh speech Steve’s never heard from Tony before except to mock someone else. So far detached from the man he knows Steve feels his uneasiness steadily rising. The bindings holding him to the chair pinch into his skin.

“Will you be talking of your own volition or will you require some chemical assistance that front?” In Tony’s hand is a syringe. Still capped but filled with a clear liquid. His hands are in black leather gloves as well.

Stripped down to his undershirt and boxers Steve feels none of his weapons. Not even the small boot knife he keeps on him other than when he sleeps and showers. Or is in bed with his husband.

“...what’s going on?”

“Just what I would like to know.” The politeness is still there but there’s an icy anger there now. Tony’s eyes burn hotly and he reaches to uncap the syringe. “I do hate to be lied to. You know how I feel about that with my...past experiences.”

And Steve does know. Knows about Obadiah. Knows about Tiberius Stone. Knows about Sunset Bain. Knows about Rumiko who Tony can still scarcely say the name of. Which means Steve knows very well how much trouble he’s in with Tony because he’s been added to the long list of people Tony lists was not worthy of trust.

Once upon a time Steve’s worst nightmare had been the possibility of his work being the death of Tony. And it still is, Steve doesn’t think he can handle a world without Tony Stark now that he knows better. This, however, never was on his list of possibilities before.

“Was any of it real?” In a harsh whisper, with politeness forgotten Tony offers a gutted look to even ask. It almost, almost takes away the threat of the drug in his hand.

This Steve might have to put on par with Tony being held at gunpoint.

“...Tony.”

Before he can get anything further on the subject Steve can hear the familiar burst and rumble of explosives somewhere close by. Tony’s looking toward the door of the cell and frowning. Syringe tossed aside and making his way to the glass wall to press his palm against it.

“Tony.” Steve repeats with a note of desperation.

Tony doesn’t glance back as he leave his palm against the glass. Shortly after the wall raises and he steps past it.

“Tony!” Steve shouts after him, watching the glass wall lowering back down. More rumbling this time closer sounds.

He finally starts to pull and jerk against his restraints. They chafe and bite into his skin. He’s likely going to make himself bleed but Steve wants to go after Tony. Needs to. If something is happening, because Steve is fairly sure he’s listening to explosives go off near his husband, he needs to keep Tony safe.

It’s only as Sam bursts into his cell that Steve realizes Tony had left him there. Had brought him there even. Drugged him over dinner and then abandoned him.

What drugs are lingering in his system is not the only reason his legs don’t want to hold under him when Sam pulls him to his feet.

Things remain hazy for Steve until they make it out into the fresh air. It’s barely beginning to get dark and the hint of summer warmth is fading away slowly. And Steve can tell they are not in New York.

He waits his his arm around Sam’s shoulders while Nat goes to bring the SUV they drove in around to collect him. He catches his friend giving him a concern look.

“How’d you know to come after me?” Steve wonders what prompted them to doubt his husband enough to come looking for Steve. Not un-rightly so but he wonders all the same.

“Been gone for three days.” Sam says. Clearly he’s been worried. “Didn’t check in with Natasha when she got back from Chile so we kept calling. No answer from you. Then no answers from Tony either. We thought maybe someone came after the both of you. The house was just...empty. Somethings a wreck and a whole lot of Tony’s things missing. Found all your stuff in the open, those files you have mostly all over your bedroom. Didn’t add up.”

Listening Steve takes in the land around them. It’s flat, covered in overgrown weeds with an old, cracked parking lot that’s no longer in use. The building they came out of is small and looks just shy of falling apart. But the basement was high end quality in every other aspect. It’s an excellent front. No one would hazard a guess there’s a facility below ground of an abandoned outpost of some kind. The details don’t concern Steve just this minute.

“Someone found my files?”

“Yeah. Mean I get why you need the paper versions what with your hubby being a tech mogul and all but still.”

“Anything obviously missing from them?” Because Steve had some sensitive information but he’d tucked it away. Not well enough apparently.

“Not that we could tell. But some of them were kind of destroyed. Crumpled and torn up pages. Someone didn’t like what they found.” It’s important which is why Sam is sharing the details. “Any ideas?”

Much as he hates to admit it. “I think...it was Tony.”

“S’what I was afraid of.” Sam grumbles and looks up at the black SUV headed their way.

Nat pulls to a stop in front of them and pops the locks. Back door opening automatically. Steve takes the help to settle into the seat but buckles himself in. Sam slips into the passenger seat after pulling the side door closed. There’s no music on, just the tactical channel they have for mission chatter.

“I already touched base with Clint that we’ve got you. He’ll let Bucky know when he lands.”

Bucky’s been in Romania for two weeks now. Steve’s thankful he wasn’t around for this in person because he’d told Steve repeatedly how much he disapproved of marrying Tony. Bucky hadn’t hated Tony so much as he hadn’t approved of bringing some civilian into the line of fire their lives tended to turn out to be. Which was why Bucky was nicely settled up with Nat and Sam, Steve pretended most of the time he didn’t wonder how their relationship worked. It wasn’t that Steve disapproved, Steve just didn’t want to let himself be jealous about being able to be honest with your significant other. Steve had always hidden the details and nature of his work. Stuck on bed rest and claiming he would be away longer than planned instead of being able to tell Tony he just got caught in a firefight.

They were moving now, headed for New York most likely. They kindly left Steve to his thoughts.

By the time they were pulling onto the interstate Steve spoke up not able to handle only the droning of his thoughts and what little traffic they had encountered.

“Should I have told him? Fury be damned about the whole thing and all.” Steve cleared his throat hoping it would help with the tightness there.

Sam turned to look at him. “Dunno. Did you want to?”

“All the damn time.” He’d considered it but Steve found himself never letting the words most past thoughts.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Thought I was keeping him safe.” It seemed like such a lame justification now. Steve couldn’t shake the image of Tony in a shoulder holster like that.

Sam hummed in a thoughtful way. “Could make the argument either way if that’s the right choice. Not like we knew Tony was anything but some wealthy tech guy.”

Which begged the question of how Tony had kept that a secret. From a government agency no less. Keeping company with spies Tony had somehow kept it a secret. At the very heart of it Steve thought their assurance Tony couldn’t have kept any was their downfall.

“Underestimated him.” Steve muttered, eyes closing. The passing scenery was nothing he wanted to see.

Tony was a certified genius - and they had known that. MIT graduate at seventeen and four doctorates under his belt. Head of R&D for the forefront technology producer. He’d seemed like a one-trick horse admittedly with is reliance on technology. But Steve knew he was biased. Sweet smiles and promises made for an excellent distraction.

But Tony had seemed honestly hurt asking Steve if everything had been a farce. Like he’d not known about Steve before that day. Which was a relief because it implied their marriage wasn’t a sham. It would have been a sight less painful if it had been a setup.

“He didn’t know until now.” Steve was thinking out loud, aware his friends were listen.

“Can you be sure?” Nat asked form the driver’s seat without a glance back. Not even with the help of the mirrors.

Thinking of the honest anger he’d glimpsed, the pained whisper. “Positive.”

Somehow that did make it a little easier. Steve had enough to worry about without questioning his marriage. His marriage might not make to out of this.

“Think he’d give me a second chance?” Because Steve was stupidly in love with Tony and even this didn’t seem enough to shake his desire to be with him. Tony who had cold feet, could blabber on about science fiction blockbusters until he was blue in the face, and who lit up when Steve came through the door after being away more than two hours.

Natasha and Sam were silent, unwilling to give him an false hope.

“Yeah...thought not either.”

The next time Steve sees Tony he’s being shot in the back and his scream lodges in his throat as the world begins to narrow down to only Tony. His feet already carrying him toward his husband despite the fire fight going on around them, ignoring the shouting of Bucky in his earpiece.

But Tony only tugs at his jacket and the bullets drop away to the floor with metallic pings. Then he’s turning and turning fire wearing a pair of glasses he’s never worn before. If Steve wasn’t caught up in being horrified at seeing his husband being shot he’d have to admit Tony looks quite dapper, not that Tony in three pieces suits is an unfamiliar sight.

Tony in a fitted suit and going into a back bend to shoot someone behind him was new. New and unacceptably sexy for the moment.

Steve raises the shield catching bullets meant for Tony without blinking.

“Thanks for the assist.” Tony intones from behind him as if Steve just offered to share an umbrella rather than deflected fatal gunfire. The familiar click of a fresh ammo in a pistol before Tony was pressing up against his back and firing over the top of the shield. A quick set of five shots before the threat was neutralized.

“Your boy can shoot, give him that Stevie.” Bucky almost sounds impressed. And for a sharpshot like Buck to offer praise he is impressed.

“Grenade!” Natasha shouts.

Steve doesn’t think about it, just turns and grabs Tony around the waist under his arm before he runs. Shield ahead of them and ducking around an honest to goodness tank and pulling Tony against his chest. He can still feel the heat of the explosion.

Tony’s face is pressed against his shoulder and a puff of breath tickles over his neck where his tactical suit doesn’t cover. A gloved palm pats his chest. “Thank you.”

“I love you.” Steve finds himself blurting because he hasn’t seen Tony in person for too long. He misses his husband. He doesn’t want to let him go.

The tight, sad look he gets in response is not what he hoped for. “Steve.” It’s the first time he’s heard his name out of Tony since the drugging and run around and exposure.

“I do.” Steve says far more forcefully hoping Tony will believe him.

It must before because Steve finds himself being kissed with almost violent force. It’s the highlight of his awful week.

Far too soon Steve has to pull back and toss the shield because someone is coming too close and they have an automatic in their hands. Despite being a tad shy of breath Steve growls at the offense. “We were shaving a moment.”

Tony gives a surprised, soft laugh. Nothing sounded more beautiful to Steve’s ears. Or he’s clinging onto any signs of hope like the desperate man that he is.

Steve stands them both up properly again. Clint is cursing on the team line in his ear, which is normal. Nat is cracking a joke about bringing knives to a gunfight because of course she is.

“I do like the way she thinks.” Tony mutters and is pulling out a combat knife from his sleeve.

Steve wonders if he should never let Natasha and Tony talk ever again. Especially when Tony tosses the knife to bury itself in someone’s back, not quite in the spine but dangerously close of a goon trying to shoot Sam.

Tony’s on his way to retrieve the knife before Steve can stop him. So Steve goes to collect his shield from where it’s embedded in the concrete floor.

“Tony are you on our team comm?” Steve asks when it sinks in there was no way he could have heard Natasha’s comment otherwise.

There’s a snort. “I’d rather not shoot one of you by accident, so yes.”

“Appreciate that Tony.” Sam replies. “Mean you’re on our side?”

“Don’t be overconfident Wilson, I’m on my own side.” Tony is weaving and shooting his way through the members of what Steve had thought was the SHIELD strike force team. “But we have a common enemy.”

“And the enemy of my enemy is my friend, deal. Got it.” Sam doesn’t sound as put off as he ought to.

But Steve thinks he can let that ass since Rumlow had tried to shoot Sam not five minute ago before the chaos erupted in the SHIELD headquarters. True pandemonium when Tony had dropped from the ceiling and started working his way through the less skilled henchmen.

“Does anyone know what’s going on?” Clint growls. “Because I’m getting real tired of this shit.”

“Pierce is as dirty as they come and amassing an empire of the most skilled available agents of all talents to reforge the world anew with your boss’s evil twin brother.” Tony offers. He’s a touch breathless but otherwise unruffled by the summary of the plot for them all.

Steve had caught onto Pierce with the untimely death of Fury. “Evil twin?”

“That’s part assumption but Fury does in fact has a twin. Which one of them is evil is up to debate.” Tony’s voice carries hints of amusement.

Clint swears more and Natasha kicks someone with more force than necessary.

“Nick never mentioned that one before.” Natasha is not pleased about the subterfuge concerning Fury’s falsified death. Family secrets do not appear to be quelling her annoyance.

“They might be estranged.” Sam offers trying to quell it instead.

“Mm.” It’s a small concession that it’s at least not the time for the conversation.

“When this is over I’m demanding paid leave.” Bucky mutters before two more men in the heaviest of the combat gear drop.

“Seconded.” Sam mutters. “If you ruin my face I’m gonna kill you.”

“If they ruin your face I’m going to ruin them slowly.” Natasha offers.

Steve almost finds himself laughing at how ridiculous all three of them are even at times like these. It’s a small detail in life to have constants though and Steve could admittedly use a few of those right now. His wacky friends is not a bad measure of familiarity.

A grunting over the comm-line makes Steve look around. It’s Tony, he’s familiar with those sounds. What he finds is Rumlow is trying to pry Tony’s hands off of the rail of the catwalk over their heads.

“Shit.” Steve snaps and is already running for the nearest way up to help.

“I don’t have a clear shot.” Clint mutters. “Moving for a better sight.”

“Got my hands full.” Bucky explains his lack of support on the front.

Steve can hear Rumlow over the team’s line as he runs. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and his blood boil. This was why he’d lied to Tony for years now, to keep this away from him. Of course his aggravating husband had found his way into this trouble all on his own. Steve hasn’t been this scared in awhile.

“Pain brings order.” Rumlow says like he’s delivering some kind of sermon. He brings down a blade that Tony narrowly manages to avoid. He’s hanging by on hand now but he’s not missing any fingers. “We will bring about order.”

“Someone shut him up.” Sam growls, clearly in agreement with Steve about Rumlow needing some swift violence.

Tony is hanging and looking up at Rumlow. “We’d rather not. We’ll look elsewhere.” It’s his usual level of cheek with that new posh polish to the phrasing Steve’s beginning to come around to.

Then Tony’s grabbing the rail with both hands and hauling himself up in a rush. Feet kicking off the rail to swing them up over the sick. Tony’s heels click together and there is a soft sound of tension of metal to metal before he kicks both feet together right for Rumlow’s chest.

“Want.” Bucky and Nat both say far too sweetly in unison.

Steve’s hauling himself up a ladder making the last mad dash through goons like they’re paper dolls to get to them.

Rumlow is laying on his back against the metal grating of the catwalk and Tony is standing. From one of his shoes, no longer as shiny as they were, is a blade. It’s bloody.

Trying to catch his breath Tony looks ruffled, hair a mess despite the product that can’t quite hold up with the abuse it’s under. His tie was cut in half at some point with Rumlow. The suit is wrinkled and his collar is reddened from the cut on Tony’s neck. Face flushed from exertion and beginning to sag from the prolonged fighting.

“Be a dear and help me with the rest of the trash will you Steve?”

Rumlow is gasping wetly and clawing at his chest.

“Toxin.” Tony explains and points down at his shoes. “Coating on the blade. Just need that one little prick to do the trick. Fast acting.”

Steve thinks it’s much too quick for the likes of Rumlow but he steps over him to kiss his husband. He’s much too relieved to see him alive.

Tony doesn’t resist and goes along, leaning against him with an appreciative hum returning the kiss. Tony sweetens away some of the harsh relief on Steve’s end.

Steve’s fingers are woven in Tony’s hair when he pulls back. “Jesus Tony.”

“I’m sorry I scared you. I’m alright...sore but alright.” Tony leans his head against Steve’s shoulder. The confident level of his shoulders dropping and some vulnerability poking through the veneer of gentleman spy that had been worn as snug as the suit itself. Tony leans further into him when Steve’s fingers squeeze his neck gently. “But we still have work to do.”

The sounds of the fight haven’t stopped but they’ve all worked their way through so many of them now it’s going to be coming to a close shortly.

“I think we owe Pierce a visit.” Tony sounds like he’d like a few minutes alone with him.

“You are right about that.” Steve sighs and drops his hand. “Together?”

“Together.”

#unsentwrites #mr. and mrs. smith with a very healthy dose of kingsman because I have issues with that fandom #bamf!Tony #Bucky/Nat/Sam because I can #and I feel like that could get mighty interesting

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