Eighteen-year-old Tony Stark is the boy genius who woke Captain America, and now he's stuck with him. That's not a bad thing, but between Steve's wide-eyed wonder at the new world and Tony's little fanboy crush, the awkwardness just keeps happening.

"I was actually thinking maybe sleep before physics," Bruce says, because it's after midnight and he still finds New York exhausting, the knife-edged balancing act that keeps him in control somehow harder here.

"Sensible man," Pepper says.

"I suppose," Tony says. "I suppose we do let guests sleep."

"We do," Pepper says. "If they want to." She and Tony exchange looks that Bruce can't read, except that whatever is being communicated, it ends with both of them smiling at each other in a way that's a little embarrassing to watch. "You're going to owe me, though," Pepper says.

As a child, Tony Stark spent a lot of time thinking about how cool it would be to meet Captain America. When it finally (improbably) happens, it doesn’t go at all like he’d imagined.

He’d pictured fewer insults, for one thing.

His power's running low, the arc reactor flickering. Cold, rancid sewer water is rushing into the fissure at his torn up shoulder, filling up the gaps, rising along his neck in frigid fingers. He's been like this before.

"Hello Captain, I see you are mostly clothed today! Felicitations!" Thor said, while Steve smiled weakly back.

He sketches out schematics for two new models of repulsor boots and a pocket water filtration system on the back of a napkin—he’s nothing outside of the suit, is he, well fine, he’ll show that frosted-over Americana has-been douchebag--and gets out of the car in a whirlwind of irritation and almost-but-not-quite falling on his face.

“Those curbs’ll sneak up on you, boss,” Happy says, a hand on Tony’s elbow to steady him, his face perfectly straight.

Tony doesn’t pitch a fit in the middle of the street, but only because Happy keeps a chart for that kind of shit and Tony’s over his quota for the month.

Steve wakes up in the 21st Century. He doesn't think much of it, and it's dubious about him. He meets a Norse God, joins a superhero team, and feels terribly awkward about the whole momument at Arlington he's rendered obsolete by not being dead. Meanwhile, Tony is trying to make his mark on history by being the man who finally drove Nick Fury over the edge.

There's a bruise across his ribcage, a mottled purple mess, yellow-green around the edges.

Right now, Tony is working on a 1970 Barracuda 426 convertible he's rebuilding from scrap, hands busy, eyes on his work, but he doesn't need to show his tells for her to read him.

"Mr. Stark, stalking is subject to a penalty of imprisonment up to one year in the state of California," she reminds him politely.

So, somewhere in between becoming personal secretary to one of the most powerful men in the world, and said man becoming a self-proclaimed superhero, Pepper had accepted that fact that one day she was going to be kidnapped.

She’d prepared for it. She carried around pepper spray, a tazer, a pen, a book of crosswords, a mini-GPS, and pictures of her fictional children. Just in case her kidnappers turned out to be sympathetic. She’d read volumes and volumes about the psychology behind kidnapping. She’d taken self-defense courses. She was as prepared for a kidnapping as anyone could possibly be.

When she thinks about it, Pepper knows that she probably should have quit years ago.

No one would have blamed her really (especially later, after he came back from the cave and built a suit of armor to hide away in, because what sane person would have actually stayed?) but she didn’t, and she won’t, so it’s neither here or there.

Just another part of the vicious cycle of give (mostly her) and take (always him) that they’re stuck in.

"Do you have a special ringtone for me?" Tony asked, without looking up.

"What?"

With a pair of long tweezers he extracted something that glittered from the tangle of copper, examined it critically from several angles and set it aside. "On your phone. Something that reminds you of me, for when I call you."

"Did you have something in particular in mind?"

"As a matter of fact," Tony said, "I did. I was thinking, you know what would be good? 'Wind Beneath My Wings.'"

"Maybe I just called to hear your voice."

"Oh, then let me forward you to my voicemail and you can listen to me tell you I'll get back to you at my earliest possible convenience as much as you'd like."