It takes them a beat or two to figure out the rhythm, but then Tony and the Solider move like a well oiled machine. Too bad it's only because Tony's being held hostage.
The bite of metal digging into the skin of his neck is still harsh (especially when getting manhandled one handed-- Jesus, Mary and Joseph, would that be hot in any other context), but at least he can breathe now. Somewhat. Which means he can talk.
"Fri," he croaks, hurried. Tony's not sure how long he has to do this; FRIDAY could've assembled the team already. "Don't... let anyone hurt him. Please." And Tony really does mean anyone. "Not a--not even a scratch."
(It would be simple to blame this, too, on Steve, but Tony would be lying to himself. This got personal the second that those desperate, terrified eyes met his. Tony himself wouldn't be here today if it weren't for someone helping him, even when said man had every reason not to. If Tony can be half the man Yinsen was, he's got to try.
Maybe he sort of understands why Steve would burn the world down for this man.)
"Roger that, boss." FRIDAY sounds hesitant, unsure, but Tony knows she'll listen.
Obviously, the Soldier brandishing a scalpel and the blade shoved up against his skin are things Tony knows are happening, and maybe it's adrenaline, but he can't even register the sensation. What does register is how fucking warm the Solider is. (The serum, maybe? Tony vaguely remembers Steve running hot like a furnace.)
His head is spinning to a nauseating degree, and although they feel too fucking loud in the otherwise dead silent hallways, his wet, gasping breaths are helping to fight down bile. (Christ. Why does it feel like his bones are trying to escape his skin? Tony should get a medal for not projectile vomiting everywhere and ending up the world's most embarrassing hostage.)
"Th...The elevators." They've started passing windows by this point, which is good-- the Soldier might not've believed Tony about being so high up, otherwise. Plus, trying to maneuver down the entire building's flight of stairs with a hostage (and a fumbling, vertigo ridden one, at that)? Yeah, not happening. Any risk with an elevator is much, much smarter. And faster.
For the both of them, Tony says, "garage. Quieter than the front. Cars," because FRIDAY is opening everything up for them, and the Solider seems marginally less twitchy when Tony tells him where they're going or what's coming up next.
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The bite of metal digging into the skin of his neck is still harsh (especially when getting manhandled one handed-- Jesus, Mary and Joseph, would that be hot in any other context), but at least he can breathe now. Somewhat. Which means he can talk.
"Fri," he croaks, hurried. Tony's not sure how long he has to do this; FRIDAY could've assembled the team already. "Don't... let anyone hurt him. Please." And Tony really does mean anyone. "Not a--not even a scratch."
(It would be simple to blame this, too, on Steve, but Tony would be lying to himself. This got personal the second that those desperate, terrified eyes met his. Tony himself wouldn't be here today if it weren't for someone helping him, even when said man had every reason not to. If Tony can be half the man Yinsen was, he's got to try.
Maybe he sort of understands why Steve would burn the world down for this man.)
"Roger that, boss." FRIDAY sounds hesitant, unsure, but Tony knows she'll listen.
Obviously, the Soldier brandishing a scalpel and the blade shoved up against his skin are things Tony knows are happening, and maybe it's adrenaline, but he can't even register the sensation. What does register is how fucking warm the Solider is. (The serum, maybe? Tony vaguely remembers Steve running hot like a furnace.)
His head is spinning to a nauseating degree, and although they feel too fucking loud in the otherwise dead silent hallways, his wet, gasping breaths are helping to fight down bile. (Christ. Why does it feel like his bones are trying to escape his skin? Tony should get a medal for not projectile vomiting everywhere and ending up the world's most embarrassing hostage.)
"Th...The elevators." They've started passing windows by this point, which is good-- the Soldier might not've believed Tony about being so high up, otherwise. Plus, trying to maneuver down the entire building's flight of stairs with a hostage (and a fumbling, vertigo ridden one, at that)? Yeah, not happening. Any risk with an elevator is much, much smarter. And faster.
For the both of them, Tony says, "garage. Quieter than the front. Cars," because FRIDAY is opening everything up for them, and the Solider seems marginally less twitchy when Tony tells him where they're going or what's coming up next.