triedunture: (cap/iron man)
[personal profile] triedunture
Title: What Happened When They Took Him From The Ice (Chapter 1 of the What Happened When Series)
Pairing: Cap/Iron Man friendship
Rating: Gen
Words: 1240
Summary: Part 1 of what could be a mad-long Avengers reboot. Kind of like the Marvel Adventures universe got mixed up with a slashy side of stuff? Meaning no Civil War, no Skrulls, and lots of bromance?


<><><><>

The art of drowning is something humans have never done very well. Humans are slightly better at hibernating.

No. No!

When most people think of hibernation, they think of bears. But what bears do is not really hibernation.

Bucky!?

True hibernation is really very strange. The metabolic activities, the characteristics of life, slow down to the point of near stoppage. Bats, rodents, and some species of snake use this method of survival.

Can't breathe!

There is another process, even more extreme, called cryptobiosis. Literally, "hidden life."

Oh, god. I'm going to die. Oh, god.

During this, the body's systems completely shut down. It allows the organism to survive adverse environmental conditions such as desiccation, oxygen deficiency, even freezing.

So. Cold.

For all intents and purposes, a temporary death. Like the poison drunk by Juliet, who was waiting for her Romeo to come for her.

But. Well. She can tell you better than anyone: these things rarely go as planned.

So...

It was like snapping on a light switch. One minute, he's not there. The next minute, he is: blue eyes wild and darting around the silver interior of the submarine, his throat panting out nothing but raw sounds, his muscles on fire with needles and pins, his hands in fists, his back against the wall, the shield a reassuring weight on his arm.

The lights hurt his eyes. He blinks rapidly and in pain. His retinas, unused to doing their job, can only make out fuzzy shapes. Confused shouts assault his untested ears. His limbs shaking like a newborn.

A robotic voice cuts through the chaos. Tells him to stand down.

Calls him Rogers.

Calls him by his name.

Steve works his tongue around in his dry mouth, forcing his gravelly voice to choke out his first words: "Who are you?"

A metallic touch on his elbow; he flinches away from it, it hurts like a thousand pinpricks on his over-sensitized skin. The inhuman hand falls away, and Steve watches its owner warily through blurred vision.

"We are the Avengers," it says.

It takes awhile for Steve's body to return to normal. His eyes and ears soon adapt to their new environment, his muscles solidify from their jelly-like state, and his balance returns. His mind feels miles behind, however.

He's told, on the long submarine ride back to the States, that he's been missing for a long time. He asks how long is a long time. There are worried glances shared between these people, these Avengers.

Introductions are simple to remember. The one that looks like a thunder god is a thunder god, the thunder god, in fact: Thor. The woman in the purple leotard who looms over even Thor's impressive height, she is Giant Girl. There is a tiny man, just a red speck in her palm: Ant Man. A woman called Warbird floats a few inches from the floor, watching Steve through her black domino mask. And of course, the man made of metal, their apparent leader.

Steve repeats his question: how long is a long time?

Iron Man finally answers him. It's been over sixty years.

Sixty years. It hasn't felt like sixty minutes. As far as Steve is concerned, his body is telling him that no time has passed at all. His mind is racing, unable to consider the ramifications, the tactical quandaries this new information brings.

The war?

Over, Iron Man tells him.

Hitler?

Defeated.

The camps? The concentration camps? They kept people there; he knew of one in the western hills and at least one other in the--

Yes, they were all found. All liberated.

Steve hesitates, unsure of the order of importance. He has his whole life to ask about, after all.

Bucky?

He's told he should get some rest. That there will be plenty of time for questions later, when he's fully recovered. Steve sits on a thin cot and wishes there was a way to politely tell these strangers that he's slept enough for a lifetime.

He's taken to a mansion on the Upper East Side. It's their headquarters, he's told. He'll be safe there. He's given a room, clean clothing, some warm socks.

Steve really appreciates the socks. He thanks the elderly English butler who places them on the foot of his opulent bed, and the man, Jarvis, bows in return before exiting.

Iron Man steps inside soon after, ridiculously out of place among the antique furniture, ornate tapestries, and soft rugs. His robotic joints whir as he moves, and Steve is very aware of the shining ports in the palms of his hands. The hum of weaponry; it's something he's learned to watch out for.

"Comfortable?" Iron Man asks.

Steve shrugs from his seat on the soft mattress. "This is quite a place you've got here," he says. "Is the government paying heroes better these days?"

The inhuman head tilts to the side as if in thought. "The mansion is owned by a benefactor. The Avengers are allowed to use it as living quarters, storage for the Quinjets, that sort of thing."

"A benefactor." Steve shifts uncomfortably. "When do I get to thank him?"

There's a buzz of static from Iron Man's helmet; Steve wonders if that's his equivalent of a chuckle. "Mr. Stark doesn't often drop by. The life of a billionaire industrialist is a busy one. But he might make an exception in your case. A living legend like you..."

Steve picks some lint from his new socks. Wiggles his toes. "So everyone knows my identity now?"

Iron Man gestures in a somewhat elegant way, for something so inorganic. "Every schoolchild in the U.S. is taught about Steve Rogers, the boy who became Captain America. You're a national treasure, right up there with Martin Luther King and JFK."

Steve stares at him blankly.

"Ah. Sorry." Iron Man shakes his head.

"I need to play catch-up," Steve murmurs, his eyes fastened on the floor.

"I can help," his metallic companion says simply.

Steve gives him a tentative smile, the first one that's graced his lips since they took him out of the ice. He thanks him for this, for giving him a home, for saving him from the frozen ocean, for everything.

Iron Man waves an airy gauntlet. "It's the least we can do. Without Captain America, none of us would be here." He turns to leave, but Steve says, "Wait."

Steve rubs the back of his neck, his mouth quirked in thought. "This is going to sound strange, but," he looks up, "there is a person in there, right? I'm not just talking to a robot, am I?"

Iron Man has paused in the doorway, half-turned toward Steve, completely silent. Steve curses himself.

"Though it would be fine if you were a robot," he says hurriedly. "I'm not sure if that's normal these days or--"

"It's all right," Iron Man finally says. "There's a person in here, Captain."

Steve gives a relieved sigh. "You can call me Cap. Or Steve. Since everyone knows both now."

"Fine. Cap." Iron Man nods. "Wait here. I'm going to get you a laptop from the lab. And then," he makes an accommodating motion with his hands, spread out in welcome, "I will introduce you to Google."

"Google." Steve can't help but pronounce this new word with skepticism. Never mind the word "laptop."

"Trust me, it'll make catching up much easier."

And Iron Man leaves Steve in the bedroom, feeling a little less shell-shocked than he had six hours previously.




fin.


Eeep. This is my first time writing Cap/Iron Man fic, and I hope you enjoyed it. I have other ideas for continuing this as a series: Cap settling into modern times, relearning how to be a superhero, finding out Tony's identity, yadda yadda yadda. I'm kind of scared to start writing in this fandom with such a massive project, but if you liked this short little thing, let me know and if there's anything I can improve, of course I'd want to know, and I'm not just saying that to be polite; I really would!

OK, gonna shut up now. Much love! Thanks for reading.

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December 2018

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