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Tony’s contemplated the many ways Steve could’ve killed him (should’ve), and why Steve choose the one where Tony could see his face – look into his eyes – and know that there was no remorse for hiding his parents’ murder. That there was no regret for how they’ve gotten to this point, that there was no hesitation in the way Steve intends to keep doing this all day.
Not with the way Howard’s shield continued to chip away at the reactor, vicious, incessant, demanding. It’s fitting. It’s awful.
It’s exactly how Tony remembers his father.
It’s ironic that Steve, the shield and the arc reactor, all products of Howard in some way or form, have all taken their shot at killing him.
Just like all those that proceeded them, they'll all fail too. Shield and Steve, both.
At the time though, all Tony could think about was how he couldn't breathe because Steve’s eyes were blue. They were so goddamn blue.
Like the sky the morning Tony got the call about the accident. Like the afternoon he buried them. Like the first Christmas, he spent without them.
Steve’s eyes were clear and blue so fucking blue. Not green. Not even a hint of it. Blue.
Blue like the glow coming from the arc reactor. Blue like the ice in the Winter Soldier’s eyes. Blue. Blue. Blue.
“Tony?”
But he had looked, and he’d hoped so he’d looked.
Only to be disappointed.
(He should’ve been used to it.)
Steve’s face had been set in grim determination – lip curled, brows furrowed. An expression so familiar when undertaking a mission that it hits Tony, in the fourth rib and the second, that he should’ve known.
What was he a genius for if he didn't know? It wasn't like it was some kind of secret. The score had been set from the day of Fury's attempted recruitment of him during his Palladium poisoning. Natasha had called it, written a report on it: Iron Man. Yes. Tony Stark. Not recommended.
He was treated like an irritant, an inconvenience, an obstacle, and like any of those things, he had to be dealt with.
Tony doesn’t blame him. Can’t.
He wasn’t the type to take being side-lined or benched very well. He's got an ego. That's a fact. He's got pride by the spades. He'll even be the first to admit that he's not the easiest to work with. While his track record hadn't screamed Team Player, that wasn't the true concern Fury, nor anyone else at SHIELD, had. No, it was the fact that Tony Stark was not going to be satisfied being led around by the nose and taken for an idiot.
But he proved them wrong there, didn't he? He thinks with no small amount of bitterness. Imagine. Fooled by the heart everyone was convinced he didn't have. Poetic justice, thy name is Anthony Stark.
So, of course, when, in Steve's case, Tony's role reached it's inevitable end i.e spending Tony's resources to find Bucky Barnes, Tony's time as friend, teammate, person had simply run it's course. Tony was no longer useful to him, and then it was only a matter of time until Tony reached his expiry date.
Obie was convinced it was at Tony's thirtieth, "one last golden egg" notwithstanding, but joke's on him, Tony still had ten years of usefulness left to eke out.
For a man who’s survived everything from kidnapping, torture, captivity, life-threatening surgery, attempted murder, throwing down with a Hulk and a pair of Norse Gods, and an actual alien army, going for the star embedded in his chest seemed a good place to start in terms of incapacitation.
But really, trying to pummel it into his chest cavity was a waste.
Obie was right to want to get it out of Tony. The arc reactor could power cities – entire countries if the technology were there, if placed in the right hands. But Steve-Steve wasn’t exactly the Big Picture type, he wasn’t exactly big on consequences and backlash either as evidenced by his haggard appearance and the divorce-beard he was sporting. Tony inwardly snorts.
Frankly, Steve wasn’t very big on thinking at all. Though charitably, he laid that at the feet of Steve’s gross dismissal of Tony’s abilities regardless of how often he’d been a witness to it.
No matter.
"This doesn't make any sense, how did you even - how did you find us?" Steve demands, voice strained.
The nanotech manacles are a thing of beauty in every form, and not even the Witch can wrangle herself free once she's been muzzled. Clint's attempts to intervene are for naught when he and Natasha are equally subdued, both splayed against the wall, the nanotech further aided by the weapons Tony conceded to make for them which they'd been happy to use against him.
Tech synergy is a beautiful thing.
When an attempt by Lang to shrink out of the situation is shot down with a full-body electrical current that sends him sprawling on the floor, Tony hums. The feedback he's getting from Pym's suit confirms it's been safely deactivated and that Lang is also (safely) out conscious to boot. Tony mentally pats himself on the back. Now Hope can't threaten to stab him. He's really outdone himself.
Only Wilson immediately backs down, though Tony can't take credit for that, the Dora have surrounded all exits and have the Rogues cornered off.
"His Royal Highness thanks you for your prompt arrival," General Okoye says.
The Bleeding Edge slides seamlessly across his skin and with every step, the armor retreats until he’s a few feet away, dressed to the nines in his favorite three-piece Tom Ford. Slipping his sunglasses off, Tony winks. "Always a pleasure to be of service to his Kittiness."
"You betrayed us," Steve accuses to the absent king, though Tony doesn't doubt he's watching from elsewhere. Tony wouldn't turn down a show like this either.
"Can't really blame the man, none of you make for the best houseguests," Tony soothes. And really, making demands they have no right to, and making the staff uncomfortable to boot? Rude. "Well, except for Barnes, apparently he's a model citizen."
General Okoye's lips twitch in fond amusement. "He's quite the goat herder."
"Ah, see, there you go!" Tony grins. "Though really, I wouldn't be worried about him, I'd be worried about you." Flashing Extremis blue eyes at them before pointing at Steve with his sunglasses, Tony drawls, “You should’ve aimed for the head.”