"Iron Man!"

As Tony slowly regained consciousness, he really wished that he hadn't. His head was pounding, and his entire body felt like someone—possibly the Hulk—had used it for a punching bag. Repeatedly. If it had just been his head, he would have assumed that it was just a hangover. As it was, though, he couldn't help but think . . .

"Stark!"

Tony frowned, still not opening his eyes. Whoever it was that was yelling at him sounded familiar, but he was still blurry enough that he couldn't quite place it. Of course, he also didn't remember what he'd been doing before he woke up in pain on what felt like a cold, very hard concrete floor.

"Come on, Stark, I know you can hear me. Stop playing Sleeping Beauty."

With a grimace, Tony forced his eyes open. Steve Rogers was looming over him, an expression on his face that Tony would almost call worried. Almost. It was hard to tell, considering it faded to impersonal indifference the moment he noticed that Tony was awake.

"Sleeping Beauty?" Tony asked, his voice a lot hoarser than he'd expected. "I'm flattered, Captain, but isn't that usually your role?"

Rogers rolled his eyes, but Tony couldn't help but notice that he was being closely watched as he struggled up into a sitting position. "Believe me, Stark, you shouldn't be flattered."

Tony just grinned. He let it fade after a few seconds; his memory was still a blank. "What happened?"

That almost worried look reappeared on Rogers's face almost instantly. "You don't remember?"

"I'm pretty sure that can be blamed on the head injury," Tony said, reaching up to touch the back of his head. There was definitely some dried blood there, but he didn't feel anything that was still wet. That was a good sign, at least. "Which leads me to my next question: why do I have a head injury?"

"That party your company threw to celebrate the new contract with S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Rogers prompted. He sounded almost—gentle. Tony hoped that he never heard that tone of voice coming out of Rogers's mouth ever again, especially aimed at him. "The one that Director Fury made us all attend?"

Tony frowned again, trying to make some of the random images in his head come together to make at least a little sense. He remembered the party, of course. Pepper had threatened him with severe bodily harm if he didn't show up, and Fury had made it an order, and Coulson had insisted that all of the Avengers attend to try to put on a good face after that whole mess in New Jersey, and… and…

"Were we really kidnapped by some of my own scientists?" Tony asked, his mouth dropping open. "Because, honestly, that's embarrassing. No, embarrassing doesn't even begin to cover it. The last time any of us were captured Victor von Doom was involved, Doctor Doom himself, and this time we were taken out by a handful of disgruntled geeks gone rogue?"

Tony knew that his voice was getting louder, his hands more expressive, but he really didn't care. His own scientists. He was never going to hear the end of this one.

Rogers's mouth twitched, as if he was trying not to smile. "Officially, Doom didn't have anything to do with you and Hawkeye being kidnapped," he pointed out. "And I'm pretty sure your scientists had some outside help. There were at least a couple of people in A.I.M. uniforms, and some of them were definitely trained soldiers."

Tony waved his hands. "Yes, but… my own scientists! Those people work for me!" He paused for a second. "And I don't care what the official story is, when someone breaks my damn arm I tend to remember their face."

"I thought they worked for Ms. Potts," Rogers said. Tony couldn't help but notice that he completely ignored the last part of his protest. Not that he could blame him; Tony didn't like to think about those five days much either.

"Details, details," Tony said. "The last time I checked, it's still called Stark Industries, you know, not Potts Industries." He paused. "Unless you know something I don't. Does Pepper have secret evil plans that I don't know about?"

Rogers ignored him, looking away to hide his obvious smirk. Tony wasn't surprised.

Tony used that as an excuse to finally take a look around the room. It was about what he had expected. Concrete walls, concrete floor, approximately the size of a large closet. There was room for both of them to lay down, and the ceiling was high enough that they wouldn't hit it if they stood up, but that was about all that could be said about it. There was a single bulb hanging in the middle of the ceiling, giving off just enough light for them to see each other. There was a small bucket sitting in the corner, and Tony didn't even want to think about what it was for.

Speaking of which… now that Rogers had turned his face to the side, Tony noticed something that he hadn't seen earlier.

"Hey, wait a second," Tony frowned, reaching out to touch the side of Roger's face. The other man shied away like he was trying to punch him. Tony rolled his eyes, but he held his hands up in a placating gesture. "You're bleeding."

Rogers snorted. "Thank you. I hadn't noticed."

Tony raised an eyebrow. He hadn't even realized that Fury's golden boy could sound that sarcastic. "My point would be why are you bleeding? The blood in my hair is dry already, so shouldn't you have healed up completely by now? Isn't that what you do? Punch people, throw things, and never stay hurt?"

Rogers shifted uncomfortably, but he didn't say anything.

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Rogers."

There was another uncomfortable bout of shifting, followed by Rogers looking anywhere except Tony's face. He looked— well, guilty.

Tony frowned, a tiny hint of worry running through him. "Cap?" No reply. "Seriously, Steve, stop with your stoic martyr routine for once and talk to me here."

Rogers jerked his head up, startled. "Did you just call me Steve?"

Tony coughed. "It's your name isn't it? So sue me," he said, shrugging halfheartedly. "Actually, scratch the 'sue me' part before any of my approximately five billion lawyers start screaming, but still. What the hell's going on?"

For a moment, Tony thought that Rogers was going to keep ignoring him. The other man still wasn't quite meeting his gaze, and he looked… well, smaller. Not physically or anything like that. It was more than he seemed uncertain and anxious, though Tony was pretty sure he saw some anger mixed in there as well. Not to mention frustration. There was definitely some frustration.

"Someone injected me with something from a vial, right before they set off the gas," Rogers said quietly.

"One of my scientists?" Tony asked, startled.

Steve looked up quickly. "No, no, not one of your guys. It was someone from A.I.M."

Tony stared at him. "What exactly was in that vial?"

Rogers looked away again. "I don't know."

"Okay, then is it temporary of permanent?"

Rogers clenched his fists. "I don't know."

Tony let out a breath. "Fine. So you've lost your healing ability?"

There was a pause. "And a lot of my strength, I think," Rogers said, almost hesitantly. "Not all of it, but I definitely feel weaker."

"You've lost your strength and healing," Tony repeated.

There was a short pause before Rogers nodded.

"Well, is that it?" Tony knew that his voice was getting louder, his hands more expressive, but he really didn't feel like reining it in. "I mean, I've seen the pictures of you before you took the serum, you know. A five-year-old girl probably could have beat you up, if she'd put even a little bit of effort into it. Are you going to go back to that, or—"

"Damn it, Stark, I don't know!"

For just a second, Tony thought that Rogers was going to punch him. If it had been almost anyone else, Thor or Barton or Banner or Natasha or Rhodey, Tony expected that he'd have a broken nose just about then. Well, not Banner. Banner would either ignore him completely or have already Hulked out and put him in traction. But anyone else would have punched him, no hesitation.

Captain America had a hell of a lot of self-control, though, enough that he stopped his fist about two inches away from Tony's face.

Tony stared cross-eyed at Rogers's fist. "You don't know anything. Got it."

Rogers closed his eyes, obviously struggling to calm his breathing. "I'm sorry. I just… I don't know."

Sighing, Tony leaned back against the wall. He pulled his legs up in front of them, wrapping his arms around them like he had when he was a kid. His back twinged a little from the movement, but he ignored it. "Okay, so what's the plan?"

"Plan?" Rogers opened his eyes, raising an eyebrow as he did. "What plan?"

Tony gave him a look. "Don't give me that," he said. "We both know you were thinking about ways to escape the entire time I was, and I quote, playing Sleeping Beauty. Super strength or not, you're still a soldier. So, time to start talking. What have you come up with?"

Rogers stared at him for a second. "Maybe I should check that head wound again," he said thoughtfully. There was a slight twinkle in his eyes that Tony had never noticed before.

Tony snorted.

"I do have at least a bit of an idea," Rogers admitted after a few more seconds. The amusement faded from his face. "We'll have to work together if we're going to pull it off."

"Do you have to make it sound like that's completely impossible?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. "We have worked together before, you know."

Rogers nodded. "Yeah, I remember," he said dryly. "Have they finished repairing the Statue of Liberty yet?"

Tony opened his mouth. Then he closed it. It's not like he could claim that one wasn't his fault; the last time he'd checked, at least three of the videos on YouTube of that incident were still getting mentioned on the news at least a half dozen times a day. "You were saying something about a plan?"

Rogers smirked, but he didn't actually point out that Tony hadn't answered the question. "It looks like the guards check in on us every hour," he said. "What we need to do is this—"

"I can't believe that worked," Tony said, throwing himself down on the ground. In the distance, the sky was lit up by the various explosions coming from A.I.M.'s secret not-really-a-base-anymore. Once you added in the sun rising slowly in the background, it was a fairly impressive view.

Rogers dropped down beside him. "I'm just glad you're good at improvising," he said. "That fourth guard could have caused a lot of trouble if you hadn't tossed that brick when you did. Good aim, too. You caught him right in the forehead."

Tony shifted, just a bit. He didn't mean to; it just happened.

Rogers narrowed his eyes. "You weren't aiming for his head, were you?"

"Of course I was, Rogers," Tony said brightly, lying through his teeth. "Where else would I be aiming?"

Rogers stared at him for a second, obviously not believing a word of it. He shook his head. "Whatever you say, Tony."

Tony blinked. "Did you just call me Tony?"

"It's your name, isn't he?" Rogers asked, sounding much too innocent for him to actually be innocent.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Tony agreed. He paused for a moment before adding: "Steve."

The only reply was an amused chuckle.

Grinning, Tony stretched. "How long do you think before Fury shows up, guns blazing?"

Rogers—no, Steve, Tony mentally corrected himself—glanced at the flames again. "Not too long, I'd say," he said slowly. "He's had all night to look for us, so they're probably nearby."

Tony turned toward him, freezing before he actually said anything. He tilted his head a little, studying the side of Steve's face. "Huh," he said.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked, looking over at Tony.

Tony reached over and touched the side of Steve's face. Steve started to shy away again, but he stopped at the last second and held still. After a second, Tony pulled his hand away.

"What?" Steve repeated. "Is that cut bleeding again?"

"Cut?" Tony asked, trying to sound innocent and well aware that he was failing completely at it. "What cut?"

Steve stared at him for a second. Then he tentatively reached up and touched the side of his face.

Tony reached up to finger the cut on the back of his head. His headache was still there, but it had definitely faded a little over the past few hours. "Feeling a little more super, Cap?"

"Maybe a little," Steve said slowly.

Neither of them said anything else for a few minutes, instead just sitting there in a fairly companionable silence.

Then Tony laughed.

"What's so funny?" Steve asked, glancing over at him.

"At least I know you were telling the truth about it not being any of my scientists who made whatever it was they injected you with," Tony said, grinning.

Steve stared at him.

"What?" Tony asked. "Do you really think I'd hire anyone who'd do such shoddy work?"

Steve kept staring at him. "No," he said slowly, "you just hired people who secretly teamed up with A.I.M. and kidnapped you."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Details, details, details."

Steve stared some more. Then, shaking his head in amusement, he reached over and lightly punched Tony in the arm.

It was definitely going to leave a bruise.