Would someone please tell me (in baby steps) how to change the link thingie on the side bar of my user page. I swear to god, I do it every three months and it takes me about two and a half months just to figure out how to do it again.
Thanks in advance.
Tony groaned and swallowed thickly.
“Come on Tony, stay with me.”
At the sound of his name, he cracked open one swollen eye and scanned the face above him. It travelled across the handsome features, seemingly unfocused ,then opened wide. The look of recognition unmistakeable.
“Captain America.” he said, voice hoarse.
“At your service,” said Steve, relief flooding his chest.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” he replied, then went limp in Steve’s arms.
Hours later, when much of the blood had begun to dry and crust over, he opened his eyes again, but this time said nothing, just watched Steve warily, lips drawn in a tight line.
“Hey,” said Steve, “don’t do that to me, okay? The others should be here soon, so don’t go and die before we can get you out of here.”
“The others?” asked Tony, running his tongue over cracked and dry lips, “Like, Superman and Wonder Woman?”
“Yeah, well,” said Steve, allowing himself a ghost of a smile, “DC still holds they copyrights on them, so you’re gonna have to settle for us, still.”
“Us,” repeated Tony. “ … okay.”
He moved to sit up, but decided very quickly that moving those muscles was a terrible idea. He grimaced, waiting for the pain to abate, and let himself slump back into Steve’s generous arms. “It’s not every day, you know, that I wake up in the arms of my childhood hero. The subconscious … unconscious? Is a marvellous thing.” He weakly waved a hand at Steve, then let it drop. “Beats the hell out of getting tortured, anyway.”
“Do you know who took you? Or what they wanted?”
Tony sighed and gave an aborted shrug. “Iraqi? Iranian? Taliban? They wanted me to build them a bomb. A Jerhico.”
Steve’s brow furrowed.
“Oh shit!” cried Tony, sitting up despite the pain, “Pepper! You have to call Pepper.”
“It’s okay,” soothed Steve, supporting Tony’s back, “Pepper knows about our mission. Just relax, we’ll let her know we found you right away.”
“Okay,” said Tony, letting Steve lay him down, “And Obidiah. Let him know too.”
It wasn’t easy seeing Tony like this. Stripped bare of his usual boldness and showboating he seemed somehow smaller. Frail. It wasn’t just the physical injuries that made Steve wince. They’d both received more than their fair share of bloodied lips and broken bones during their many battles, but this wasn’t the Tony Stark that Steve had come to know.
Using his ingenuity (and the horseshoe up his ass) to facillitate his escape from the clutches of his first captors had helped to make him the man he had become. It had put him on a new path with his life, and changed him from a super-star into a super-hero.
It had occurred to Steve on more than one occasion, that Tony was purposefully brilliant as a form of self defence. Add wit and genius with a dash of bravado, mix in a healthy dose of charisma with a gallon of smug, and Tony became so vivid, so bright, so dazzlingly intense that you couldn’t stare directly at him, truly see
him without hurting your eyes. And so, in a way, being the center of attention was a way of deflecting. Hiding in plain sight.