Chapter Text
If Pepper asked Tony how he managed to end up stranded on an uninhabited island, he'd blame it on his lack of morning coffee. Or more accurately, it might have been afternoon when he'd finally made it out of one of his ludicrously dubbed 'manic episodes' (i.e. Pepper). Honestly, if she knows anything about him--which she does–she should know that nothing good ever comes out of S.H.I.E.L.D Intel meetings (except pissing off Fury with his sorely underappreciated commentary). Seriously, he may have signed up to play the part of everyone's favorite superhero, but come on! Fury can't expect Tony to just fork out millions as the benefactor and be subjected to his mind numbing drawl, seriously! God, he can see her now, giving him his least favorite version of the you-fucked-up glare and knowing he's going to have to--very inconspicuously, mind you–leave a new pair of Valentino struts on her desk for the upcoming SI gala. Tony wouldn't be surprised if Pepper had that look now–her thin lips pulling taunt as she eyed him down callously, but no less fondly. Her eyes always gave her away.
God, he misses her.
Stifling a slightly–extremely–hysterical laugh, he let it tremble through his body. This has to be it, he must finally have lost his mind, god he can see the tabloids eating this up. His brain must have finally cracked, because all Tony can picture right now is Captain Do-No-Wrong nodding in approval at his emotional revelation. He'd give a poster-perfect thumbs up and pat him on the back for this monumental discovery of human emotions lying under the suit of iron (it's actually gold titanium alloy, but it really doesn't carry that sort of ring). If he could see Tony now, he'd surely be proud of this huge step in his character growth.
The silence that follows shouldn't carry as much weight as it does.
They have to be looking for him by now, the team wouldn't just leave him here. Sure they have gotten off on the wrong foot, and maybe he likes to poke and prod at the team to keep it interesting, but it's all in good fun. Tony may have taken it too far on a few occasions, forcing himself to make a quick retreat–not running away–lest he wanted the building to be destroyed by a very pissed off Hulk. But, they still need him, right? Yes, if they had to leave, no doubt S.H.I.E.L.D would take over funding and the eventual housing, but they wouldn't just leave a teammate stranded with no way out. Even if said teammate displayed–courtesy of Natasha–’irrationally self destructive behavior paired with his apparent textbook narcissism’. It really is just so dramatic, even if it's probably true. The bottom line still stands, they might not like him, but the Avengers need Iron Man. Even if it’s just the armor they value, it’s not like just anyone could pilot it like he can. Well, except Rhodey. He has stood in for him before when he's been unable to get away from board meetings. Only on less world ending and more saving a kitten from a tree type missions, but still, case in point. But, it’s not like they work better with him–except they have. Rhodey doesn’t ignore orders or quip back during a fight. He doesn’t–what was it that Widow wrote again?
Iron Man: Yes, Tony Stark: Not recommended
But they couldn’t–No, they wouldn’t just–They have to know–
‘I'm going to die here.’
And wasn’t that a pleasant and completely unhelpful thought. Self depreciation aside, he is narcissistic enough to know that his company needs him alive. No matter what the others think of him, if Fury called the order–which he will–they would follow, even if he was just a mission to them. He’s not foolish enough to think that any of them could withstand Pepper's wrath. Just the thought of her chastising a group of superhumans makes a small smile grace his face. No doubt J.A.R.V.I.S has alerted Pepper by now of his abduction via his vitals. Pepper will let the team know–and Fury by proxy–that no, he didn't just use the excuse to pop into his favorite bakery for a lunch break--much to Fury's chagrin–to get out of the unbearably boring meeting. He's not a monster, for Christ sake, no matter what narrative the media spins on him. Even though he wanted to ditch the book club meetings altogether, something about Steve's disappointed gaze lingered in him every time he missed out on a movie night or team dinner--though to be fair, Thor almost blew up the kitchen one time making pop tarts, so they should forgive him on the latter. But point in hand, he has been trying to be more involved lately, dread inducing recon meetings included.
It figures the only time he tries to get his shit together, the world decides to knock him on his ass, and not in a fun way.
He's really tempted to just keep laying on the sand and have the sun lull him back into an unconscious haze. Deciding a few more minutes of rest couldn't hurt, Tony let's his eyelids sag, fluttering gently against the brilliant glow of the afternoon (Morning? What time is it?) sun. Breeze grazing the exposed skin above his suit lapels, he lets the scent of salt and copper relax him.
Wait.
With a surprisingly shaky hand, Tony reaches up to touch his–just as surprisingly–sticky temple. With an unfocused gaze, he stares at the deep red stain adorning his dress shirt and soaking into his skin.
Huh.
With far less grace then he would ever admit to, Tony pushes himself up onto his elbows, groaning at how it jostles his head. He should probably be freaking out right now, considering he's most certainly sporting a more then mild concussion–with god only knows who out there watching him–but he just feels so fucking tired.
'How did I get here?' Tony's mind stumbles, drawing a blank. He made it to the bakery, gave a suave and overly exuberant greeting to his favorite barista, ordered an obnoxious amount of food (super soldiers and Gods aside, Clint could definitely eat when he's bored), and then….what?
He must have left, or did they get to him before he made it out? Someone would have noticed if he was knocked out in the street, it was midday and he is Tony Stark, not very inconspicuous when everyone is watching his every movement. How much time had passed? Judging by his dry throat and semi rested body--head wound excluded--he'd hedge a guess between 3 to 5 hours. Though, seeing his sluggish movements, he'd bet they had drugged him as well, so it's hard to say for certain. Who got him, HYDRA? No, they wouldn't just leave him stranded, not when he had access to Arc technology blueprints and, well, Tony's positive they would have just outright killed him given the chance. Hammer might do this if it shifted the weight of stocks in his favor. What can he say, getting kidnapped is a bad look for sponsors. Where even–
Sinking heavily back into the burning sand, the last thing he recalls before unconsciousness takes him again is that he should have had that coffee. He's out before he hears someone scream his name.